Speaking
as an outsider traveling through, Australia certainly seems to have the most
transient, amorphous population I’ve ever witnessed. From our first day in
Adelaide all the way up to now, it seems like Australia is full of backpackers
and tourists but a little low on actual residents. When driving up the Stuart
Highway, we pass three types of vehicles: road trains, tour buses, and
backpacker’s vans – not residents.
I’m
sure that the rest of Australia is not like this. But here, in the Northern
Territory, it certainly seems true. And I think that’s because the Northern
Territory is not an easy place to live. It’s like living in an oven filled with
swarming flies. In one week here, I’m already more tan than I’ve ever been in
my life (and, yeah, it’s a super-stylish farmer’s tan). When I go outside in
the day, flies flock to my face. I’ve accidentally swallowed a grand total of
four flies so far (which is good, since I need the protein). When I go outside
at night, it takes less than a minute for my entire leg to itch with mosquito
bites and less than two for Willie to start asking if he’s showing signs of
malaria (he’s not).
But
some people do live here. Willingly! Not a lot of people, sure, but people
nonetheless. And I have never, ever wondered why. Because the one common thread
that I have seen over and over again in every NT resident I’ve met is an
overwhelming lust for life.
Everybody
here loves what they do. And I don’t
just mean that they’re happy or content in it. I mean that there isn’t a single
other thing they’d rather be doing in the entire world. Most of them seem to
have displaced their entire lives to make a home for themselves in the Northern
Territory.
In
Coober Pedy we met Jimmy and Trevor, two men at the top of their game and
absolutely in love with the mines. The locals talk about an opal addiction.
They mention their first visit to Coober Pedy, almost always an unplanned one,
an impromptu visit as they pass through on their way to someplace more
traditionally alluring. But then they speak of the awe that overwhelmed them as
they first laid eyes on the underground homes, or as they held a glittering and
shimmering piece of opal in their palm. Trevor may have been the most
enthusiastic person I’ve ever met. His love for the opal game oozed through his
pores and inhabited his every word, as if just thinking of the precious gem
would get his adrenaline running. And Jimmy, our Coober Pedy tour guide, spoke
with the enviable knowledge of someone who’s lived and breathed a single
community for the past four decades. He knew everything about the town.
Everybody in town knew him. And for those few hours we were with him, we were
wrapped up in that knowledge. It was strange, it was serene, and it was
powerful.
Then
we moved on to Uluru Kata-Tjuta park, where we met with a media officer named
Troy. His job was simply to monitor what we filmed and photographed to make
sure that we treated sacred Aboriginal sites with care and respect. But his
love for the park and his surroundings was evident. We would prod him for
information, and he would speak at length about the land with the respect and
pride that a father might have for his son. He told us he’d moved up to Uluru
Kata-Tjuta to work there for six months. But he’d stayed for two and a half
years. And he was still going.
The
Northern Territory really can overwhelm you with its beauty. I’ve seen things
here that I don’t think I’ll ever be able to see anywhere else. But it is an
undeniably tough place to live, the type of place you’d only move to if you
absolutely love it. And that affection for the land is contagious. It makes
this one of the most charming communities in the world.
by Andrew Adams
March 31, 2010
