Conversations with the Mob

'This is a book of maparn (healing) for whitefellas and Martu alike. It is my wish that my photographs and the mob's stories will allow hearts to open - that this book will serve as a bridge across a great cultural divide.' Megan Lewis (p. 17)

Conversations with the Mob is a photographic essay including approx. 110 colour photographs with intersecting one to two-page interview passages and texts by the author, the photojournalist Megan Lewis. The book opens with a short introduction that gives a brief overview on the background of this project as well as the Australian Aborigines Martu community history and living circumstances. In this Lewis reflects on the ethical implications of photojournalism, such as the priority to consider people's lives over the ambition to get a good shot. She emphasises that intuition, patience, integrity and respect were key to her engagement with the community and how she had to be clear when she was to act like a journalist and when to be a friend. Interwoven into the Martu's stories and visions about their lives are Lewis's reflections on the way she dealt with issues of shyness, respect for privacy and the complexities of cultural thinking and cosmology embedded in Martu life. While she surely could have written a fascinating book about her life among the Martu, this book is explicitly dedicated to, for and in collaboration with the Martu, what in anthropology would be called a community-based project.

Photojournalist Megan Lewis set out in 2002 to live with a Martu community in Parnngurr, close to the Great Sandy Desert in the northwest of Australia. Her first encounter with the Martu was in 2000 at Telfer gold mine when she was still working with the Australian newspaper. Irritated and disappointed by the prevailing media misrepresentations of Australian Aborigines, Lewis decided to commit herself to a project for which she received permission from the Martu community leaders. She left her job and related securities and set out into the desert together with her dog Jedda to live with the Martu -- a privilege that turned out to become a five-years' adventure, largely self-funded.

The book starts with a warning: 'This book may contain the names and images of Aboriginal people now deceased.' It is custom that the names of departed are not spoken of, or referred to, for a while after their death and Lewis was given permission to print a story of already deceased community members for historical purposes, however, with the request that the readers will not repeat or speak of these names to members of the Martu. 'Martu don't say name of somebody passed away. You gotta call that name nyaparu.' (D.O., p. 114)

Lewis tells us in this context how she has revealed her own abilities as a healer (maparn skills) to the Martu community, when she joined the search for two missing men in the desert and she suddenly intuitively felt the presence of the second missing man for whom the Martu elders and the police had already been searching for several days without any success. The body of the deceased was found in the place it was indicated in Lewis' vision, and from that day onward Lewis was no longer just a photojournalist and an outsider, she became a friend of the Martu and, most importantly, recognised as a maparn healer. The Martu -- meaning 'one of us', or 'person' -- developed a trust from then onwards and came to Lewis with regard to physical ailments and later also for deeper, emotional problems (p. 53). This bond allowed Lewis to more fully integrate with the Martu community and photograph them while she shared their lives.

Lewis intersects the photo-essays with stories by the 'mob' (as the Martu call themselves), in direct transcripts from the original recordings with sparingly added inserts by the author in brackets to fill in some gaps or translations for the readers. One of the difficulties that Lewis does not problematise, however, and every cultural anthropologist who uses direct transcripts from the field struggles with, is the question if the sometimes somewhat broken English is the best way to represent an insider's perspective on peoples whose language the researcher, and in this case, Lewis, at least to some extent shares. This difficulty is partially solved through Lewis' decision to take a conversational approach of an encounter that is continuously negotiated and self-reflective and of a culturally integrated nature.

Notwithstanding this transparency, it can be noted as very productive and considerate that sometimes certain meanings of terms and expressions evade full explanation, and as such the book offers an insider's perspective in Lewis's personal dialogue with the Martu people. This textual strategy exposes the limitations of a purely realist trope, which consequently also invites to critically engage with a commonly realist, indexical approach to photographic documentary essays. The intrinsic meaning and hidden views -- those dimensions that evade representation both in the texts and photographs -- are nevertheless present to unfold in heterogeneous ways and intensities during the perception of the beholder. In recognition of the untold and unseen as potential for communication and shared consciousness, the stories and the photographs do make transparent that they were taken for and with the Martu peoples themselves, views now offered to a general public to guide the readers' perception through the way Lewis makes her shared experience accessible through text and image. The spaces in between, the hidden meanings, the gaps in time between the instant and its recollection through memory, active processes of memorising through story telling and photo elicitation offer a space for reflection, for mediation and interpretation, as well as the silence of stories that Lewis had been asked not to publish which remain in the space of privacy between their friendship's trust. The intimacy that is intrinsic to the way Lewis gained access to the Martu's private lives enables the reader to approach these accounts with sympathy and affection, with wonderment and curiosity.

When Martu people see the spirits of the unborn baby to the mother's bedside, 'Whitefellas won't believe this when you tell'em'. (p. 35)

'The dreamtime spirits come to you just like you watching a video' (p. 37), comment by Bruce Thomas, elder and linguist who makes video and sound recordings of his people's stories.

In many photographs the perspective and camera angle Lewis applies reveals how integrated she was in the events happening, she is among the people and able to take shots of closest proximity where the camera ceased to cause much notice, while her presence was clearly acknowledged, accepted, and integrated. It is not a hidden camera, but an open testimonial of a direct experience in accordance with the photographed. This included, as she reveals, the production process of the book, where Lewis involved her friends in the scanning and selection of the images and some of the editorial choices of the book.

It is Lewis' special way of engaging with the Martu people with whom she shared five years of her life, which allow the reader to engage with their stories and experiences more intimately. In particular in the documentation of personal encounters and family life, this intimate dimension and closeness shines through some of the appealing formal tones of the image aesthetics. In this way, Lewis' project extends a photojournalistic approach and the essay succeeds in superseding the 'looks' and the appealing aesthetics and attractions of the medium photography clearly present in Lewis professional journalistic background and practise -- a quality that has been recognised by the Walkley award in 2005. Also a first international exhibition of the project is taking place at the gallery WestLicht in Vienna, from March to May 2009 ( http://www.westlicht.at/index.php?id=145176&lang=5)

However, to make this intimate dimension more fully accessible, special attention is required from the reader. Although some of the images seem to contain the essence of Martu life in one glance, as it is common in good journalistic practise, it is in particular in the spaces between the image and stories, in the pauses and silences, that the unsaid and the unseen can be conceived when listening very attentively. Even more strongly, the juxtaposition of images and texts sometimes creates contrasts and seeming contradiction, and most profoundly Lewis alerts us not to trust our eyes, but to develop a much more intuitive approach to encountering the unknown and unfamiliar. Lewis' own self-reflexiveness is not only sometimes revealed in her texts, but also in the way she came to understand the impact of her photographic project on the Martu people in an exchange with a woman who commented after some reflection on Lewis question what she thought about the images:

'I've been thinking about these photos you've been taking. When I first saw them they made me feel funny inside. I been thinking they no good, she wrong to be taking these photos because they showing Martu inside our houses. Outside people shouldn't see us like that. After a while I thought about what was upsetting me. What was upsetting me is that it showing my people inside, and it made me think, am I looking after my old mother properly, am I doing the right thing? Now I see what you're doing. Your photos are making Martu look at themselves and think, what are we doing? Where are we going and are we doing the right thing? Now I see why you have to do this, because Martu have to look at themselves.' (p. 17)

Emotions were traditionally not explicitly addressed: 'We don't talk about how we feel inside, it's not Martu way'. (p. 140)

Many stories reflect the Martu's difficulties with the misperceptions that whitefellas have of their ways of life, of their difficulties to integrate these two ways of life. They also reflect back Martu's conceptions in their interaction with Lewis' white wanti (girl) way of life. Lewis tells stories from different generations, such as stories that look at the old ways, on the mixing up of the 'two ways of living', which is regarded as: '... what the future is about' (p. 77) This integrated way of life is reflected especially in the younger generations' comments on contemporary Martu life, in their visions for the future, as well as for example in a comment by a Martu from the younger generation on the issue of mixed marriages: 'We don't think about mixed [whitefella/blackfella] marriage. It's about the person, not the colour.' (p. 137)

'Martu don't have a word for love', Dawn Oates told me. 'We never need to say that one. We feel him strong inside, people know, you don't have to tell him.' (p. 103)

The book is full of encounters, memories, traces of sadness and of laughter, of heart-felt dialogues and conversations, of shared time and experience, shared dreams, of trust and humour, loss and hope, views about community business, entertainment, relationships, and delicate topics such as sexual abuse, death, etc. Lewis seems to give an honest account without attempts to soften events and views, neither in her revelation of stories, nor the raw format of the interview sections, as well as in the photographs. She concentrates on the inspirations, relationships, close bonds of and with her friends, and shows how shared experience becomes the portal to a mutual understanding that supersedes external differences and misconceptions.

To engage with Conversations of the Mob in an open-minded way is an intense and insightful journey, which brings us into close proximity with the main protagonists. This can be compared to rare encounters that some very gifted anthropologists have achieved through audio-visual media, for example in the works by Jean Lydall or Judith and David MacDougall, to name only a few outstanding and well-known examples. The book invites the reader to take a virtual walk through the life and dreamtime with the Martu people, guided by Lewis' sensitivity, respect and courage. Her approach bridges disciplines and perspectives by which she took a courageous move to a long-term commitment and an adventure, which professional communities such as cultural anthropologists will have to admit sadly, commonly exceed contemporary funding possibilities with regard to institutional support even in their own well-established practise today.

One can only hope that Lewis' efforts and personal commitment to this project will be taken up in other disciplines and exposures, so as to benefit from her and the Martu's insights and engagement. In this way the aim of the Martu, their participation and generosity might be extended and contribute to a better understanding of the different ways of living and cultural divides that constitute all our futures. As Bruce Thomas so adequately put it:

'If you open up to the culture it opens to you'. (p. 39)

For more information or to contact the author: http://www.meganlewis.com.au/

Brief introduction to the Martu people :

The Martu are the original Aboriginal custodians of an area of the Great Sandy, Little Sandy and Gibson Deserts in West Australia. Martu language groups include Manyjilyjarra, Kartujarra, Kiyajarra, Putijarra, Nyiyaparli, Warnman, Ngulipartu, Pitjikala, Kurajarra, Jiwaliny, Mangala, and Nangajarra.

Lewis summarises that the number of Martu people is about 850.   They are recognised native-title holders of 136.000 sq km of desert country. In the 1960s the last Martu-families left their original land and started to return in the 1980s. The majority now lives in four communities; Lewis mainly lived with the Martu in the Parnngurr community (approx. 150 people) but also travelled with them to other communities for funerals, football carnivals, and law business meetings. Lewis remains in contact with the Martu, and has set up a healthy food programme in 2008 in the Warralong community on the outside of the desert, which is run by a school and has already contributed significantly to improving health issues among the Martu.

For background information and literature, see AusAnthrop, anthropological research, resources and documentation on the Aborigines of Australia:

http://www.ausanthrop.net/resources/ausanthrop_db/detail.php?id_search=317

Also see the anthropologist Robert Tonkinson's publication: The Mardu Aborigines: Living the Dream in Australia's Desert . Fort Worth: Holt, Rinehart and Winston, 1991.