Hana looked at Beth, and Beth looked at Hana—as if they each expected the other to answer. Given Hana’s predicament, Beth knew she should step up and explain, only she couldn’t because everyone was now looking at her. Besides, she didn’t think she could even articulate what she and Hana were laughing at anyway.
Beth pressed her lips together, still amused but trying to contain it, and threw a helpless look at Hana, who was clearly thinking something similar—conversationalists, the both of them—because a moment later, they snorted, causing Beth to dissolve into a fit of giggles.
Carmen was still eager to join in the fun, but Flo talked her down—‘Let them have their joke, Car,’—and then proceeded to share her theory about how Lan always managed to get the pork crackling so crispy.
With the others once again distracted, Beth pinched the pencil from Hana and wrote a message of her own.I have to get back to work, but thank you for our chat.
Hana looked as if their heart was melting when they read it.It was my pleasure. I hope we can do it again sometime.
‘I’d love that,’ Beth said. ‘Maybe you can give me some tips on how to draw? I’ve always wanted to learn.’
Hana nodded eagerly and the two of them made plans to meet up in a few weeks.
Beth was still smiling when she got back to the B&B after her shift.
* * *
‘Are you sure it’s okay for me to come, too?’ Ellie asked Beth as they left the B&B.
‘Yeah, of course. Marge said I could bring a friend.’
Marge’s new grandchild had arrived a few weeks ago, just in time for the regional Welcome Baby to Country ceremony, where all the Aboriginal babies born recently would be welcomed by one of their nation’s Elders. Beth had felt so honoured to be invited, which was why she’d asked if she could bring Ellie—she wouldn’t feel brave enough arriving at a big event like this on her own.
Beth and Ellie trekked down Brockman Street towards the town’s green space and amphitheatre, and it seemed as if half the town was heading in the same direction.
‘Looks like it’s going to be quite the merry occasion,’ Ellie noted.
When they reached the park, they saw a large crowd had already gathered. Some people sat in camping chairs while others lounged on picnic blankets, but everyone was positioned to face the stage in the permanent amphitheatre. While they waited for the event to start, adults called out to friends, children darted between groups and over blankets, and all the while, magpies warbled and the nearby river whispered. Beth didn’t know where to look.
‘There she is.’ Ellie pointed across the crowd.
Beth took her word for it. ‘I’ll follow you.’
Marge offered a warm welcome when they reached the far side of the green. ‘There you are! So glad you both could make it! Come, sit. It’ll be starting soon.’
Once Beth and Ellie had settled onto the extra-large picnic blanket, Marge introduced her family. ‘This is my daughter, Jacinta, and her partner, Lenny.’
Beth plastered on a smile and waved hello, determined to make an effort.
‘Jedda’s asleep,’ Marge explained, pointing to the bulging baby sling Jacinta wore on her front. ‘But I’m sure she’ll wake up soon. And you know Tom, of course.’
A hush settled over the crowd then, and Marge promised to introduce them to the rest of her mob after the ceremony.
An Elder made his way onto the stage and stopped in front of the microphone. Looking out at everyone, he waited to ensure he had their attention, then began, his voice echoing from the speakers, his tone earthy and warm.
‘Kaya, noonakoort. Wandju, nidja Noongar Boodja. Hello, everyone. Welcome to Noongar Country. Nguny djurapin, nguny koort djurpin wanganiny noonakoort. We are happy and our hearts are happy to be speaking with you all.’
Little Jedda squawked in response, making everyone around her grin.
‘We are gathered here,’ continued the Elder, ‘to celebrate the newest members of our community. Little Ones, today, surrounded by your moort, your family, you will connect to culture and community. We welcome you to Country so that you may always have a sense of identity and know where you belong.’
The Elder’s words pierced Beth’s soul, because identity and belonging were two things she’d give anything to possess. She glanced over at Jedda. Could there be more perfect gifts to bestow on a child?
The ceremony continued, with local children—some of them siblings and cousins to those being formally welcomed—performing a traditional dance as someone played the didgeridoo. Following that, a fire was lit and leaves were laid over it until they were smoking. Then it was time for the Little Ones to play their part.
One by one, they were called up, along with their caregivers, and the smoke from the leaves wafted over them—cleansing them and warding off bad spirits, Marge explained—before they were presented to the Elder. He rubbed white ash over each child, bonding them to their Boodja, then gifted them with a kangaroo skin headband, decorated by a local artist, and a possum skin cloak, as tangible reminders of their heritage.
At only a week old, baby Jedda was completely unaware of the significance of the occasion, but her family would no doubt share with her many times the tale of the day she was welcomed by her mob and blessed by their Elder.
