Got rhythm ... men in grass skirts dance with their zamiyakal.Credit: Lee Atkinson
How much food can a few dozen people eat? Going by the 63 platters laid out on the trestle table in front of me, I'd say an awful lot. I'm on Masig, a tear-shaped coral cay also known as Yorke Island in the Torres Strait north of Cape York, closer to Papua New Guinea than Australia - a tiny speck of an island, less than three kilometres long and only 800 metres across at its widest point. We've arrived here, quite by accident, on a day of celebration and the community is eating and dancing up a storm.
Everyone has brought a pot or two of home-cooked food to the open-sided community hall, decorated with palm fronds and birds of paradise woven from coconut leaves, for a traditional kai kai, or feast, to mark NAIDOC (National Aboriginal and Islander Day Observance Committee) Day.
There's a whole pig that has been marinated in garlic, ginger and soy, wrapped in banana leaves and roasted in a sand oven on the beach, alongside a turtle roasted in its shell. There is also the traditional sop sop - chopped sweet potato and pumpkin covered in freshly squeezed coconut milk - and a huge pile of damper, also wrapped in banana leaves and cooked hangi-style in a sand oven. Large saucepans, straight off the stove, are steaming with simur chicken, a casserole-like dish with more ginger, garlic and soy and vermicelli, as well as wongai doughboys, a boiled dumping spiced with the sweet, sun-dried seeds of the native wongai tree. Bowls are overflowing with salads, rice and baked pumpkin, sweet potato and yams and platters of posso - little coconut leaf boxes filled with rice and lowered into simmering coconut milk until the rice is cooked.
I can count at least six different types of fish and there's a mountain of crayfish and mussels caught that afternoon. Less appetising are the big pots of blood turtle and blood pork (chewy bits of meat stewed in the blood of the animal they are from) and a bowl of turtle eggs, a highly prized local delicacy that I wish I had left untasted.
Down the centre of the trestle table is a conga line of coconut cream pies, jam tarts and big chunks of damper soaked in syrup, perfect for getting rid of the bitter fishy aftertaste of the turtle egg I was too polite to refuse.
Things happen slowly on the islands of the Torres Strait but, once they get going, it's full on.
It's almost midnight on a school night but children are running around, old women in floral dresses are gossiping in corners and I'm being licked by an overly friendly dog.
A grey-haired woman in a floral Mother Hubbard-style dress begins slowly beating on a drum and everyone in the hall joins in with rhythmic clapping, chanting in time and occasionally letting out a shrill ululation.
Every man who is not an elder has donned a grass skirt over his shorts, tied white bandannas around his ankles and come marching into the hall brandishing "dance machines". Made of painted wood and feathers the dance machines, called zamiyakal, are of various shapes and sizes depending on the dance and are unique to the Torres Strait.
Some are hand-held clappers that look like stars, flowers or sea creatures; others feature delicate feather wands. All are mesmerising, as the men twirl and snap the devices in time to the beating drums while they dance in line.
The dancing is still going strong when we finally leave the hall an hour or so later. It's clear that the men are now dancing for themselves rather than as part of a show, as everyone who is able to dance has joined in. The only audience left consists of a handful of elders and toddlers. Apparently, it's not unusual for the dancing to continue until dawn.
It can be hard to find a genuinely authentic cultural experience, but authentic is what you get in the Torres Strait. A long and expensive haul to get there (it's a two-hour flight from Cairns to Horn Island followed by a half-hour flight to Masig; fares are several hundred dollars for each leg), the outer islands are, so far, largely untouched by tourism.
You won't find museums and pearl shops here, or even any organised tours. Activities are centred around fishing (just ask around, you'll find plenty of locals happy to take you out in their dinghy), chatting with the local women as they weave baskets under the shade of a wongai tree, or a trip out to one of the impossibly beautiful nearby islands (think fine white sand, turquoise water and swaying coconut trees) for snorkelling and beachcombing. What accommodation there is can be hard to get and is often full of visiting workers, but if you're prepared to do some planning and have patience (it can sometimes take a few days, even weeks, for people to respond to your calls or emails), it's a unique cultural immersion in a part of Australia that many barely know exists.
The writer was a guest of Tourism Queensland.
TRIP NOTES
GETTING THERE
QantasLink flies from Cairns to Horn Island. Phone 131 313, see qantas.com.au. From Horn Island, smaller airlines and ferry operators provide transfers to other islands. Prices vary, best is on application. Phone 1300 768 696, see westwing.com.au or phone (07) 4069 2777, see barrieraviation.com.au.
For travel to islands beyond Thursday and Horn, you must first obtain permission from the Torres Strait Regional Authority. See www.tsra.gov.au.
WHERE TO STAY
Lowatta Lodge is the only accommodation on Masig. It has four air-conditioned cabins and two motel-style rooms and is priced from $180 a night. You need to bring your own food or buy basic supplies at the store on the island and cook in the communal kitchen. Phone (07) 4069 4128, email bookings.lowatta.lodge@yorkeisland.com.au. Masig is a dry island, so no alcohol is allowed.
EATING THERE
All-welcome community feasts take place on Mabo Day (June 3), Coming of the Light (July 1), NAIDOC (celebrated on the island any time from July to November) and during music and cultural festivals each September.
FURTHER INFORMATION
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