For First Nations people the bushfires bring a particular grief, burning what makes us who we are
Extract from an aricle in the Guardian on 5/1/2020 by Lorena Allam:
There’s a midden at Murramarang on the south coast that dates back to the ice age. It holds the stories of 12,000 years of Yuin occupation in layers of stone tools and spearpoints, fish bones and oyster shells.
To get there you walk through a cow paddock along a path worn by the surfers who go down to Murramarang beach. The midden lies in a hollow on the headland, sheltered from the wind, a place to sit and watch the sea and sky.
For thousands of years, Yuin ancestors would gather and feast, sending fire signals to other mobs up and down the coast. My dad used to say he’d like to sit there one night by the fire and see who might come from the shadows to join him. That’s how strong their presence is in that quiet place.
Murramarang was right in the middle of the fire zone, about 18km south of Ulladulla near Bawley point, where the fires burned all the way to the sand in early December. I want to hope the midden is intact, but unlike the prime minister I don’t believe in miracles. The fires were too ferocious....
