‘Music is the colour of my skin’ - The Story of the Murru Band

For a chapter to be featured in the ‘Captivating Audiences’ book.

Dudley Billing and Dave Palmer

Abstract

This chapter tells the story of Murru, a unique music collaboration that has evolved from a four-year prison and community programme run by arts and social change organisation Big hART in Roebourne, in the West Pilbara region of Western Australia from 2010 until now.

In 2010, Big hART’s work in Roebourne became possible with support from Woodside Energy through its Conservation Agreement with the Australian Government to support projects that work to protect, identify, manage and transmit knowledge about the heritage of the hugely significant Burrup Peninsula and Dampier Archipelago with its concentration of rock engravings, ceremonial standing stones, stone pits and circular stone arrangements. Big hART was funded specifically to create content that transmits this heritage in all its forms, including the ‘living heritage’ of story, ceremony, intergenerational exchange, song and dance. Both the residents of Roebourne and Big hART knew that in order to tell the story of the incredible cultural heritage of ‘the Burrup’, they also had to change the negative story of alcohol and substance abuse, domestic violence, poor educational performance, high levels of incarceration and a high profile death in custody in the 1980s that media loves to tell.

When they started what later became known as the Yijala Yala Project, Big hART was led by the community in what stories were to be told, what art forms they wanted to use to tell those stories and how inclusive the project needed to be, saying “Don’t you forget about our family down the road in that prison.” After listening carefully, Big hART began to run twice-weekly arts workshops in the prison, with the prisoners themselves asking that it be focused on music. From these humble beginnings the Roebourne Regional Prison programme grew until there were enough songs to produce and release an album dedicated to that young man known as Murru that died in police custody and to then turn this album into a music and multi media performance piece that saw ex-prisoners on stage alongside Wendy Matthews, Emma Donavon, Lucky Oceans and Archie Roach to open the 2014 Melbourne International Arts Festival in Federation Square in front of 6,000 people.

This chapter will outline the community-led, organic origins of this programme, what has been achieved, the processes utilised by Big hART’s mentors, some of the challenges faced, and the social consequences of the work. It is a story of how music has drawn men back into processes that have always been a part of the cultural and spiritual life of the Ngarluma, Yindjibarndi and Banyjima people right back to the ancestors who sang the pictures onto the rocks of the Burrup, through until the cultural revolution of now where a community is using music, theatre, film and comics to re-write a story and heal themselves and their families.

Prefacing story

This story begins four months into Dudley’s residency in Roebourne, at the office after a long day of drum lessons and set building. He had built a screen so a few of the local ladies could call around and watch a live webcast of BighART's Namatjira theatre show. Lead actor Trevor Jamieson had been involved in much of the ground-work for the newer project in Roebourne and had been earmarked to play in the theatre production (later called ‘Hip Bone Sticking Out’) the company was developing. Central in the storyline was the life and death of local man John Pat who had died in custody at the Roebourne Police Station 28 years prior. His death had both sparked enormous national attention, the Royal Commission into Aboriginal deaths in custody and massive trauma within the community. One of the ladies present was a relative of John's. All of them knew him well.

After the session a fit young man in a baseball cap and baggy basketball singlet walked shyly into the office. He nudged his auntie and asked, "is anyone going past Wickham?" Dudley responded positively and while they waited auntie leant over and said quietly, "just keep an eye on your stuff".

In the car heading to Wickham the young man (we’ll call him "Stan") opened up with small talk about his aspirations to become a millionaire. A few seconds later his eyes lit up as the car passed a big glowing fortress on the left hand side. "Regional. All my boys are in there … You gotta do time in Regional man", he said with a kind of Indigi-gangster attitude. The message was clear, ‘you're not a real man until you've been to Regional’. Eager to build a conversation of more substance Dudley tried to change the subject by asking about his other aspirations. From his response it becomes apparent that to Stan, the idea of even having a job seems as fanciful as being a multi-millionaire. Within seconds Stan steered the conversation back to his relations in prison and his keeness to ‘get into Regional.’ It seemed as though being a prisoner was one of Stan's biggest and most achievable goals. He was 17.

Introduction

This chapter tells the story of Murru, a unique music collaboration that evolved from a four-year prison and community programme run by arts and social change organisation Big hART. The Murru Band and it's self titled album is the flagship product of an on going prison/community music programme. Murru operates as one spoke to the large and unique community project called the Yijala Yala Project. This work started in 2010 and has been based in Roebourne, in the West Pilbara region of Western Australia.

Big hART was initially funded specifically to work with local Aboriginal groups in the area to create content that transmits local heritage associated with the Dampier Archipelago (often referred to as the Burrup) with its concentration of rock engravings, ceremonial standing stones, stone pits and circular stone arrangements. The ‘living’ heritage of this place has long been transmitted via story, ceremony, intergenerational exchange, song and dance. From the earliest stages of the work it became clear to the community of Roebourne and Big hART that in order to tell the story of the incredible cultural heritage of ‘the Burrup’, they also had to change the negative story of alcohol and substance abuse, domestic violence, poor educational performance, high levels of incarceration and a high profile death in custody that media loves to tell.[1]

When they started what later became known as the Yijala Yala Project[2], Big hART was led by the community in what stories were to be told, what art forms they wanted to use to tell those stories and how inclusive the project needed to be. From these humble beginnings the Roebourne Regional Prison programme grew until there were enough songs to produce and release an album dedicated to a young man known as Murru. This album was then turned into a music and multi media performance piece that saw ex-prisoners on stage alongside Wendy Matthews, Emma Donovan, Lucky Oceans and Archie Roach to open the 2014 Melbourne International Arts Festival in Federation Square in front of 6,000 people.

This chapter will outline the community-led, organic origins of this programme, what has been achieved, the processes utilised by Big hART’s mentors, some of the challenges faced, and the social consequences of the work. It is a story of how music has drawn men back into processes that have always been a part of the cultural and spiritual life of the Ngarluma, Yindjibarndi and Banyjima people right back to the ancestors who sang the pictures onto the rocks of the Burrup, through to the present where a community is using music, theatre, film and comics to re-write a story and heal themselves and their families.

The background

Dudley pulled out from his personal journal the following set of reflections, written when he first arrived.

The Pilbara's checkered history of ‘race’ is so deafeningly recent that many of the towns seem almost aparthied at times. Very few local Aboriginal people reside in Point Samson, very few ‘whitefellas’ reside in Roebourne.

For many outsiders Ngarluma, who's country hosts the project, seem a very reserved bunch. A regular claim made is that local people look ‘broken’, ‘have lost everything’ and ‘live a life of dysfunction’. This reflects the kind of story that one reads in the state’s daily newspaper, the West Australian or frequently sees on various news and current affairs reports. It is also often assumed that the only things that remain of local heritage are material artifacts such as spearheads, other tools, rock art and recorded accounts in reports and in archives. It is assumed that local Aboriginal people who live in Roebourne are now without living culture. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

Law is held around November/ December every year just 10 minutes out of the Roebourne township in a little oasis known as Woodbrook. It is often reported that 30 years ago only a handful of people attended annual ‘law time’. Today the numbers are in the thousands. The masses descend upon the law grounds to sing, dance, hunt, teach and spend time with friends and family. Law is so strong in the area that many families from other parts of Western Australia bring their boys to Woodbrook to be "put through".

During the ceremonies it is clear that certain people are of importance in the running and organisation of the event. These are the song men and women. These peopleholding the songs are regarded as important bearers of knowledge and are revered and respected throughout the entire community.

On the first day of Law ceremonies a mob of senior men will patrol the law grounds chanting and "grabbing" the boys who have been identified as ready to go through. The mob create a powerful sound producing quite a frightening spectacle when the boys are brought to the centre of the pack with their heads bowed as the men sing around them. The song leaders take pride of place at front and centre of the pack with all the biggest men.

The boys are then taken away for an evening of non-stop song and ceremony. With the entire community sitting in wait, at dawn the ceremonial party return from the creek still in full song. The young men are surrounded by friends and family all singing and weeping as they are brought to their humpy where they will rest up and spend time with tribal elders for the next four to six weeks, walking, talking, learning, and singing. They have emerged as young men.

This story comes from Roebourne, one of the oldest towns in the West Pilbara region of Western Australia. Roebourne sits about 1,500 km north of Perth, the state’s capital. From the late 19th century to the 1960s it was the biggest settlement between Darwin and Perth, created by an extended period of mining of resources such as gold, copper, tin, and iron ore. Due to the creation of larger towns since the 1960s, Roebourne has lost the majority of its non-Aboriginal population, maintaining itself as home to families with Ngarluma, Yindjibarndi and Banyjima heritage. Currently, the relatively young population is 813 (City of Karratha2014). Until the 1960s, there were strict controls and curfews placed on Aboriginal people’s movement to and within the town. Indeed most of the senior people grew up confined to camps and reserves on the other side of the river.

Travelling through the town it is immediately apparent that despite the many years of resource booms, Roebourne had not benefited a great deal. Today, there is no shortage of challenges facing these same families (Edmunds, 2012). A range of studies have identified problems associated with alcohol and substance misuse, challenges associated with child safety and wellbeing, poor educational participation and school attendance, family violence, overcrowding of houses, poor health and life expectancy, low labour-market participation, and unsatisfactory access to land and heritage management, (Shanks, 2009).

At the same time there is a “second story”of extraordinary strength and resilience in and around Roebourne. Law and culture is healthy, many local organizations are taking on leadership in housing, education, land and sea management and heritage preservation. Locally produced fine art, media and business enterprises are on the rise.

The saddest and most painful part of the ‘first story’ is that Roebourne has a long and infamous history as a town synonymous with the perils of state sanctioned incarceration. Indeed during the first hundred years of non-Aboriginal influence in the Pilbara the town of Roebourne was a site of considerable pain through systematic incarceration of local Aboriginal groups. The historical legacy of this continues today. Although across the state Aboriginal people are disproportionately incarcerated (whilst only representing 3% of the State population, account for 39% of the adult prisoner population (WA Department of Corrective Services March 31, 2015).

This history came to a head in September 1983 with the death in custody of 16‐year‐old Yindjibarndi young man John ‘Murru’ Patt at the hands of local police. This act was the symbolic event that later led to a Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody. Less than a year after John Patt’s death, the new Roebourne Regional Prison was opened. The prison is located between the Roebourne and Wickham town sites, approximately 1572 kilometres north of Perth. It operates as the regional correctional facility for the remote Pilbara region and also takes in people from outside the region. The prison was designed with a capacity is 116. However, from time to time it has managed up to 200 prisoners. It holds medium and minimum male prisoners either on remand or for sentenced periods. Prior to 2013 the prison also held female prisoners. Presently there are five beds reserved for women on short-term remand. More than 90 per cent of prisoners are Aboriginal people (Office of the Inspector of Custodial Services 2014, p. 1).

Yijala Yala’s music programme and the Murru Band

For five years Yijala Yala staff conducted music workshops in the prison every Tuesday and Thursday. The little crew of male prisoners quickly began to expand as word got around that the sessions had ‘no strings attached’ (pardon the pun). The initial group consisted of six guys, all in for a while. There was a long fingered blues piano man from the desert. Another was a teenage car thief from further south who adored writing songs. The third was a guitar slinger and songwriting virtuoso from the N.T. who was ultra sensitive to his surrounds. Another was a solid young Aboriginal man who was so strong he could ‘hold a bull out to piss’ and write ballads that make you cry. The fifth was a country gospel guy who had a habit of racing in late in his kitchen hair net only to blow the others away with his voice. The last was a sweet old Kurruma man with a ukelele tucked under his arm. Every one was an Aboriginal man, but that almost goes without saying at Roebourne Regional.

Some just wanted to learn the basics of guitar, some to learn the entire Eagles back catalogue, some wanted to write and record songs for loved ones on the outside, and some wanted to hear their recordings on the radio.

It would be impossible to imagine a scenario on the outside where people might bump into each other on the street, develop an instant rapport, and within four weeks know each other to the extent that they feel safe enough to sharetheir deepest secrets and feelings. However, ‘inside’ and with the aid of music the lines of communication instantly opened up.For at least 6 hours a week people’s inhabitations and cultural differences got set aside so they could all just jam.As Lucky Oceans was later to write during his first visit some 18 months later music became a way of dealing with the colour of people’s skin.

The project became possible with support from Woodside’s Conservation Agreement. This agreement was made in 2007 between Woodside Energy Ltd., Australia’s largest oil and gas company, and the Commonwealth to support projects that work to protect, identify, manage, and transmit knowledge about the heritage of the Dampier Archipelago. The Burrup (as it has come to be called) and surrounding islands, contain one of the densest concentrations of Aboriginal rock engravings in the world with some sites containing tens of thousands of images. The rock engravings include etchings of birds, fish and animals, schematized human figures, figures with mixed human and animal characteristics and geometric designs. The area also includes many ceremonial standing stones, stone pits and circular stone arrangements. The richness of this “art” is unparalleled in Australia and is considered exceptional by international standards (Bird & Hallam, 2006).