East Arnhem Land.
In early 2024 I was contacted by the Yirralka Rangers to visit Arnhem Land and assist their social enterprise, which makes and sells bush balms using traditional Yolŋu plants. They wanted support in developing their medicine-making techniques. This out-of-the-blue invitation was truly an honor. I had always dreamed of visiting Arnhem land to learn from the Yolŋu people about their deep connection to plants and country, but I felt strongly that such an opportunity had to come as an invitation.
Communications were slow, in Yolŋu way. There was a spanner in the works, it now seemed that funding issues made it seem unlikely that I could visit Yirralka. I was sad, but knew I was meant to visit. Somewhat coincidentally my old friend Teeka, who was living and working Galiwin’ku Island (also called Elcho), managed to secure the necessary funding. This allowed me to travel and she was also able to invite the Yirralka Miyalk to Galiwin'ku for a week of medicine-making. The remote island is a one hour small flight from Darwin and was the home of famous Yolŋu musician Gurrumul.
Arrival on Galiwin’ku
After a late-night stopover in Darwin, I finally arrived in Galiwin’ku. The experience was emotional— There’s something surreal about boarding a small plane to an isolated island where the air is thick with 77% humidity, and the heat is relentless. I felt exhausted and a bit stunned.
As someone who grew up in Southern Australia, the culture shock was immediate. Unlike the Europeanized landscape of the south, Galiwin’ku is still visibly Yolŋu country. As a balanda (white woman), I was acutely aware of being the odd one out, but I was welcomed with warmth and generosity, and Teeka took me under her wing. The streets were dotted with broken-down cars in various states of disrepair, camp dogs roamed freely, and families gathered in the shade to escape the heat. The stunning blue waters surrounding the island were a stark contrast—beautiful but off-limits due to crocodiles.
Despite my excitement, I felt shy and out of my depth, particularly as I adjusted to the new environment while battling exhaustion.
Adopted by a Yolŋu Family
In Yolŋu culture, it’s customary to be adopted into a family. On my second day, an elder named Djandi welcomed me as her daughter. At around 70 years old, she had an incredible energy that belied her age. We had a long day out hunting at Bible Camp, a beach where the missionaries used to teach the children back when the first colonisers arrived. This included a wild four-wheel drive to the beach in search of rock oysters, which, despite our efforts, we didn’t find and her grandchildren playing and fighting in the sand for hours.
Medicine-Making in the Bush
After a few days settling on the island with Teeka as my tour guide, showing me to different homelands and beaches, the Yiralka Rangers arrived on a small charter plane from Gove, west Arnhem land. Teeka and I had put together a rough plan for bush trips to forage and medicine making for the week.
Gathering plants for medicine-making was a unique and unpredictable process. With seven Yolŋu women including Djandi and three balanda, every outing was a collective effort. Each morning, Teeka drove the women’s space Troopy around, picking up women from their houses—a task that often took over an hour. There were frequent stops at the shops for cold drinks like Coke, a ritual that reflected the modern challenges facing remote communities. The impact of sugar and kava consumption here was confronting. While traditional practices like dancing and family culture remain strong, families living in town are reliant on centelink and the store to supply their food, and options are expensive, high in sugar and low in nutrients.
Our first mission was to collect leaves for balms. We harvested two types of leaves from the Nambarra paperbark tree (Melaleuca). Traditionally, Yolŋu people use this tree to treat coughs and flus. The Yirrallka crew had been distilling essential oils which were very potent from the Nambarra. The essential oils extracted from Nambarra leaves make a powerful antiseptic, I found it helpful for treating a mysterious fungal discoloration on my foot and we added it to balms to make a soothing chest rub. We experimented with drying, grinding and doing warm coconut oil extractions and we were able to get quite a deep colour for a balm.
The next day, we searched for Butjirinaning leaves (Litsea glutinosa). This was a fun but challenging task. The plant grows in rainforest areas and resembles several other species, so identifying it required rubbing the leaves to release their fragrant, fresh aroma that was very distinctive. When boiled, the leaves produce a mucilage that the women used to massage away muscle aches and pains. Ellie, one of the Yirralka Rangers, demonstrated how to extract the oil, resulting in a vibrant green balm.
Finally, we went on a hunt for Burrukbollom (Noni fruit). Its distinctively strong, cheesy smell made it easy to identify, though we couldn’t find any ripe fruit. While the fruit is traditionally eaten for coughs and colds, its roots—bright yellow and reminiscent of turmeric—are used to dye pandanus leaves for weaving. We decided to experiment with grinding the roots and infusing them in coconut oil, exploring the plant’s medicinal potential.
Reflections on the Journey
After day three we had made a large amount of balms and oils, and Ellie had a great idea for the ladies to sell the medicines down at the bottom shop, a small store selling canned goods and soft drinks. We set up a mat in the shade on the red dirt, initially the ladies were shy, but pretty soon we had balanda and Yolŋu women coming up and we were sold out within an hour. It was great seeing how interested everyone was in what we had made. Inspiring for me, I love the casual nature of selling in a marketplace. It was also great that the women were able to directly receive the profits of their labour, without it being spilt by an organization or enterprise.
My time in Galiwin’ku Island was transformative. It wasn’t just about learning new plants but also about building relationships, sharing knowledge, and reflecting on the resilience of Yolŋu culture. Learning about their intricate family structures and working alongside the women gave me a deeper appreciation for Yolŋu traditions, ingenuity, and warmth. They care deeply about the land, their family and share their knowledge of the bush with pride. It was also an opportunity for me to drop into a slower rhythm of small island life, and reflect and journal about my own life. There is a big energy in Arnhem land, and even if it feels like you aren't doing much, internally there is a lot of work which happen processing and integrating.
On a final note, my experience on the island left me with a sense of sadness that much of the knowledge of bush medicine has been forgotten, often I would ask one of the elders “what plant is this?” and they wouldn’t be able to recognise it. This is an oral culture and knowledge of the plants in an area is passed down from generation to generation. With the aftermath of colonization, the introduction of technology and many other modern distractions in place, much is being lost. How many of the young children know which plant is for what? The more people interested in herbal medicine the better, because this is keeping alive knowledge that would otherwise be lost.
As I left the island, I was reminded me of the importance of connection, invitation, and humility in building bridges across cultures. The Yirralka Miyalk are a very inspiring group of women who are really keeping knowledge of medicine alive and are curious and want to spread their knowledge. If you want to read more about them or support their work here: https://yirralkamiyalk.com/ and the Galiwinku Women’s space is a Yolŋu run non for profit organisation creating a safe space for women on Galiwinku island, you can find out more about them here: www.galiwinkuwomenspace.com
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