Didjeridu/Didgeridoo Etymology Debate

Didgeridoo Etymology

This post takes us out of yiḏaki country and therefore outside the main goals of this website, but I can’t help it. I admit I haven’t researched this thoroughly and don’t know if this has already been debated in academic circles, but the idea keeps showing up in my social media feeds, so I’ll provide my thoughts here.

It has long been accepted that the word didgeridoo or didjeridu is onomatopoeic – a term coined by Europeans to describe the sound the instrument makes. Back in 2002, articles started going around about a theory from Flinders University PhD student Dymphna Lonergan that the word didgeridoo could have its origins in the Gaelic language. The words dudaire (piper) and dubh (black) can be combined into something resembling the modern didgeridoo.

On one hand, I like it. It’s a fun idea. But here’s the thing. I don’t buy it. At all. Here’s why.

First: Coincidences Happen

Milkay Way Millngiyawuy Bark by Baluka Maymuru

To briefly ground ourselves in this blog’s home country of northeast Arnhem Land, here’s one of the few bark paintings I bought for myself while I was a coordinator of the Buku-Larrŋgay Mulka Art Centre in Yirrkala. It’s by Baluka Maymuru, whom you can hear singing with yiḏaki on the Mulka Project CD Yiŋapuŋapu. The Maṉgalili clan sing, dance and paint the river Milŋiyawuy, which is paralleled in the night sky by the stars of what we call in English the Milky Way Galaxy. I find the similarity of the terms Milŋiyawuy and Milky Way quite striking, but I have no doubt it’s coincidence. Yolŋu would say the term Milŋiyawuy was given by ancestral beings at the time of creation. The name Milky Way, though obviously an English translation, has its origins in Greek myth. I don’t see any way that these terms could have influenced each other.

Second: Historical Context

The researcher stated that in an experiment, “asking subjects to make the sound of the instrument yielded words full of vowels starting with the letter “b” or “m”. No subjects made the sound didgeridoo.”

Now there’s a little detail that I trust is obvious to anyone reading this blog that was not taken into account by the researcher. If you ask average people around southern Australia or anywhere in the world to think of the sound of the didgeridoo, they’re going to think of the crisp drones or “womble” rhythms of mainstream contemporary didge playing.

A droney excerpt from my 2001 CD Your Meditative Didjeridu Companion.
Nope. It doesn’t sound like “didgeridoo.”

But if we’re talking about the origin of the word didgeridoo, we’ve got to go back to the first European settlers having their first contact with the instrument. Traditional didge snobs reading this blog know what that means.

Here’s Dr. Alice Moyle’s map of the traditional origins of the didgeridoo, based on her field work in the Top End in 1962-3. It’s widely accepted as fact that the didgeridoo’s use was limited to roughly this area at the time of European contact. Dr. Moyle identified two main styles of playing in that region, the western A-type and the eastern B-type. Basically, A is non-Yolŋu playing that many didge fans around the world know as mago style, and B is Yolŋu yiḏaki style.

Dr. Alice Moyle’s map of the didgeridoo’s origins and main playing styles (with a few additional notes I use in lectures).

European settlement of the Top End came overland from Alice Springs to the south and via the sea mostly to the central part of the Northern Territory. There we find the failed early attempts at settlement near what, in an eventual success, became the city of Darwin. This is all firmly in the territory of Dr. Moyle’s A-type didgeridoo style. This is the first didgeridoo playing that was regularly heard by Europeans.

What does that sound like? Here’s the late great David Blanasi playing in 1962.

Excerpt from Arnhem Land Popular Classics recorded 1961-2.

And here he is singing the rhythm.

Didjamo debo….

Unlike the subjects interviewed by the Flinders University researcher, anyone familiar with this style of didgeridoo playing would indeed start an imitation of the sound with a ‘d’ instead of a ‘b’ or ‘m’ and would most likely in fact start with the syllable ‘didj’.

Third: Historical Record

The Gaelic origin of didgeridoo theory is just that – a theory, based only on a coincidence. There is no historical record I am aware of to support it. On the other hand, records exist to support the onomatopoeia theory. Didgeridoo didn’t start appearing in dictionaries until 1919, but the term’s origin could be as much as 90 years older than that.

Fort Wellington, in operation 1827-1829, was on Raffles Bay on the Coburg Peninsula, in present day Garig Gunak Barlu National Park.

Collet Barker was an English military officer and ‘explorer’ of Australia. He developed better relationships with Aboriginal People he encountered than most Europeans did at the time, including during his brief tenure as commandant of the short-lived Fort Wellington on the Coburg Peninsula, the top center of the Northern Territory’s Top End. Firmly in Moyle A-type didgeridoo country. He wrote, circa 1829:

Mago had brought a kind of musical instrument, a large hollow cane about 3 feet long bent at one end. From [this] he produced two or three low & tolerably clear & loud notes, answering to the tune of didoggerry whoan, & he accompanied Alobo with this while he sang his treble. source

‘Didoggerry whoan’ is clearly similar to didgeridoo. It is specifically how an early European visitor to Australia’s Top End described the sound of the instrument. Perhaps it is the earliest extant written description of the sound. This obviously supports the standard onomatopoeic origin story for the word didgeridoo.

In Conclusion

I don’t mean to be a spoil sport and have nothing against the person who came up with the Gaelic origin theory, or anybody who finds it fun to think about. But all this context seems important and instructive, so I thought it should be stated all together at least somewhere on this crazy internet. If anyone has more information to share on the subject please do so!

Barayuwa & Gunybi in the USA

Just a quick heads up for anybody near Reno, Nevada or Dartmouth College. Barayuwa Munuŋgurr and Gunybi Ganambarr are traveling to the USA right now with Buku-Ḻarrŋgay Mulka coordinator Will Stubbs and will have two public events discussing Yolŋu art and culture… and also playing a little music. Both are great yiḏaki players.

First up, Wednesday, February 13th at 12:30pm at the Hood Museum of Art at Dartmouth College. 6 East Wheelock Street, Hanover NH 03755. FACEBOOK EVENT LINK.

Then Friday, February 15th at 12 noon at the Nevada Museum of Art. 160 West Liberty Street, Reno NV 89501. FACEBOOK EVENT LINK.

Classic Tracks: Comics Come to Northeast Arnhem Land

Donald Duck in Arnhem Land

Let’s listen to some Djaṯpaŋarri. It’s a kind of Yolŋu music and dance which, according to ethnomusicologist Dr. Alice M. Moyle, Gumatj clansman Dhambudjawa invented in the early to mid 20th century. The style was mostly popular with young men during Moyle’s visit in 1962-3, but as those men grew up, djaṯpaŋarri became popular with all ages. In short, it’s characterized by casual, often modern subjects, fun dances, and a more mellow and repetitive yidaki style than most Yolŋu ceremonial music. Because of that last factor, some inexperienced listeners mistake northeast Arnhem Land djaṯpaŋarri for western Arnhem Land music. Newer djaṯpaŋarri usually mentions, or seemingly addresses, young men by their SKIN NAME.

Song from the Northern Territory vol.3We’re going to listen to three variations on the same song subject from different decades. In the liner notes for Songs from the Northern Territory vol. 3, Moyle writes:

This ‘Comic’ Djatpangarri sung by Minydjun (b. 1944) originated as the result of a Disney film cartoon seen by Yolngu people at one of the air bases during the Second World War. Donald Duck is the subject of the associated dance.

The second and third versions below will be familiar to long time yidaki aficionados, but this first one is a rarity. Dr. Richard A. Waterman recorded Roy Ḏaḏayŋa (Rirratjiŋu clan) and Rrikin (Gumatj) singing ‘Comic’ with Djinini (Djambarrpuyŋu) on yidaki in 1952. Notice that Roy & Rrikin don’t sing anything other than the word “comic.” This stresses the importance of djaṯpaŋarri as a dance music. This isn’t the most intricate poetry you’ll ever hear.

Here’s Minydjun (with an uncredited yidaki player), recorded at Milingimbi in 1962. This version adds the word djaṯpaŋarri itself and other word fragments common to the style. Milingimbi is near the western edge of Yolŋu country. You’ll notice that the yidaki has more influence of western Arnhem Land playing than the other two “Comics.”

Yothu Yindi - Tribal VoiceHere’s Galarrwuy with his late nephew Milkay Munuŋgurr on yidaki from the 1992 Yothu Yindi album Tribal Voice. Note that he’s got more of the style of Roy & Rrikin, with the sung yidaki part and short wordless notes. He however adds the skin name references often heard in djaṯpaŋarri songs. And of course, Milkay brings his “hard tongue” to the table.

On Yothu Yindi’s hit Treaty also from Tribal Voice, they mix djaṯpaŋarri with pop & rock music. While you may have just known that bit as “the traditional part,” it’s not serious manikay you would hear in ceremony, but this simple, fun, public song. Listen carefully and you’ll hear that the second word you hear in the first Yolŋu language part around 0:50 is in fact djaṯpaŋarri. You’ll also hear the fragment djaṯpa a few times in the song. Mandawuy also sings a reference to a boy’s skin name and a call out to all the young men.

Note that you can find the second track above on the must-have landmark set of recordings Songs from the Northern Territory from the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies HERE. The 5-disc set contains an invaluable survey of music of the Top End from 1962-3, including lots of incredible didjeridu. Yothu Yindi’s music doesn’t seem to be on iTunes and Amazon and CD’s are getting hard to come by. Search for used copies your favorite way. The first track above, from 1952, has never been commercially released.

Yidaki of the Month #9 by Djalu Gurruwiwi

Yidaki by Djalu Gurruwiwi

Djalu’ crafted this excellent yidaki in mid-2004. I bought it for myself, but it became Djalu’s standby for a few years, seeing regular use in ceremony and performance, as seen in this clip from the Yidakiwuy Dhäwu. Here, Djalu uses this powerful instrument to demonstrate the song Bärra‘ or West Wind at the Garma Festival in 2004.

If you haven’t seen that clip already, then you haven’t done your homework as a student of yidaki. Finish checking out this page, then go read www.yidakistory.com/dhawu/yolngu-rom/stories-about-yidaki-djunggirriny/ and the rest of Yiḏakiwuy Dhäwu Miwatjŋurunydja.

Stats:
drone – E • first trumpeted note – F
154cm long • 3.2cm mouthpiece (interior average) • 16x11cm bell (largest part of exterior)

Djalu Yidaki Mouthpiece
Mouthpiece, with black wax.

Djalu Yidaki Bell
The bottom end, or possibly a portal to another dimension.

This is truly an incredible yidaki. Great warmth, great clarity, great playability, great power. If your lips are in shape, you can trail off the warm-sounding trumpet note like a bell. To me, this one sounds like the definitive Djalu’ tone. It’s quintessential Djuŋgirriny‘, hence his use of it while telling that story at Garma.  Here he is playing Bärra‘ again.

The late Milkayŋu Munuŋgurr loved it, too. He said he’d love to record with it, although he’d prefer a smaller and lighter yidaki to carry around in ceremony!

The late Mirrwatŋa Munyarryun shows us some brief, simple yet beautiful playing on it. He, his brothers and cousin Ŋoŋu at Dhalinybuy all said it was a great “bass” instrument they would happily use at ceremony.

Lastly, here’s me from my Didjeridu of the Day series on Instagram last year.

PREVIOUS YIDAKI OF THE MONTH:
#1, July 2017, by Djakanŋu Yunupiŋu
#2, August 2017, by Milkayŋu Munuŋgurr
#3, September 2017, by Djalu’ Gurruwiwi
#4, October 2017, by Burrŋupurrŋu Wunuŋmurra
#5, November 2017, by Baḏikupa Gurruwiwi
#6, December 2017, by Buwathay Munyarryun
#7, January 2018, a Bad Yiḏaki
#8, February 2018, by Milkayŋu Munuŋgurr

Djalu’ Gurruwiwi – Fixing a Hole

Djalu Gurruwiwi Fixing a Hole

Back in 1999, Djalu’ blew my mind with his ridiculously simple fix for a knothole in a new, in-progress yidaki. Maybe he did this all the time. I’m not sure. I never happened to see it again. I present the photos here online for the first time, in their full, highly-compressed, 640×480 1999 digital camera quality.

Djalu’ found a particularly good yidaki, so sat down to work on it right there in the bush. Here he is carving away the bark and outer layers with a draw knife.

Djalu making a yidaki

Whoops! It’s hard to see, but in the yellowish area, Djalu’ exposed a knothole as he carved down the wood. To the right of the instrument in this photo, he is carving a small wedge of wood out of the trimmings.

Djalu carving a didgeridoo

Next, he hammered that little wedge into the hole (with the not often recommended technique of holding a knife blade and hammering with the handle).

Djalu fixing a yidaki

He switched to an axe. That’s better.

Djalu fixes a didjeridu

The result: a non-leaky yidaki with a protrusion.

Djalu Gurruwiwi, yidaki craftsman

Then, he simply sawed off the protrusion with the blade right against the yidaki.

Djalu Gurruwiwi, yidaki master

Voila. Knothole filled. Good as new. The instrument was finished, glued, painted, and sold to one of you out there who has no idea that this ever happened.

Djalu just can't be stopped

There you go. Djalu’ Gurruwiwi, yidaki master with all the cool tricks.

Djalu Gurruwiwi

You can see some more photos from that and the following day on the antiquated website about my first visit to Arnhem Land at https://gingerroot.com/oztrip/yirrkala/yidaki/index.htm.

Yilpara CD – More Info

Yilpara Mulkay Manikay Archives

In January and February, I wrote about the first two albums I recorded for what became the Mulka Manikay Archives CD series; Dhalinybuy and Gurrumuru. In both posts, I provided some of the documentation that my Yolŋu colleagues and I created, including statements from the senior singers involved. Very little of that work was done for the last recording, Yilpara, before I suddenly had to leave Yirrkala. To complete this series on the three Mulka Manikay CD’s I recorded, let’s get some insight from relevant art documented in the book Saltwater: Yirrkala Bark Paintings of Sea Country.

Saltwater: Yirrkala Bark Paintings of Sea Country

In the late 1990’s, 47 Yolŋu artists created a suite of 80 bark paintings reflecting their knowledge of and connection to the sea. The people of northeast Arnhem Land started the first Australian land rights case in the early 1970’s. It was time for sea rights. Long story short, this lead to a 2008 High Court ruling which handed ownership of the intertidal zone to Aboriginal People on a large portion of the Northern Territory coast.

The Australian National Maritime Museum in Sydney acquired the entire collection back in 2000, and is displaying half of it now until February 2019. If you happen to be in the area, CHECK IT OUT. The ANMM’s webpage about the exhibition features this video of Djambawa Marawili, accompanied by an excerpt from his singing on the Yilpara CD. If you’ve been through the Yidakiwuy Dhäwu, you’ve heard him say similar things already.

If you’ve studied this website, you may also remember the concept of the five dimensions of Rom. Wäŋa (Land), Gurruṯu (Kinship), Dhäwu (Stories), Miny’tji (Art) and Manikay (Songs). Yolŋu understand and express life through all these dimensions. Therefore, we can get insight into the songs on the Yilpara CD from stories told in paintings.

We’ll stick with Djambawa at first. His painting Gurtha at Dhakalmayi is described in Saltwater like this:

Djambawa Marawili - Gurtha at DhakalmayoYathikpa is an important site for the Maḏarrpa as it was here that first came to the shores of north-east Arnhem Land for the first time. Bäru, the Ancestral Crocodile power tote for the Maḏarrpa clan is strongly associated with the first fire.

Two Ancestral beings, Burrak and Munumiŋa, took to the sea in their dugout canoe from this Blue Mud Bay coastline of Yathikpa to hunt. Djambawa has depicted them under shelter preparing to go to sea.

Once offshore and upon seeing a dugong, they pursued it. In this area of saltwater was another sacred site of fire – a submerged rock surrounded by turbulent and dangerous water. It was here at Dhakalmayi that the dugong took shelter to escape the hunters. When the hunters flung their harpoon towards the dugong, hence the rock, they enraged the powers that be, causing these dangerous waters to boil with the sacred fires underneath. The canoe capsized, drowning and burning the Ancestral Hunters with their canoe and hunting paraphernalia. The harpoon, rope, paddles and canoe are sung at ceremony and manifestations of these objects are used as restricted secret sacred objects in ceremony today.

Djunuŋgayaŋu, dugongs, are associated with this site, attracted by sandy sea beds that grow the sea grass called Gamaṯa on which they graze. In this painting Djunuŋgayaŋu is at this site around Dhakalmayi. The cross-hatched design is the sacred clan design for the Maḏarrpa representing saltwater and fire here and is a manifestation of the sacred waters and Gamaṯa waving like flames below its surface.

Here’s Yathikpa by Marrirra Marawili, the senior man on the Yilpara CD, which provides more clues to the inclusion of the Bäru (Crocodile) and Dhupuntji (Log) tracks.

Marrirra Marawili - YathikpaThe open-ended strings of diamonds mark the classic miny’tji of the saltwater estate of Yathikpa. Here Bäru the ancestral crocodile, carrying and being burnt by the Ancestral fire, crossed the beach from Garraŋali and entered the saltwater. After his burns were soothed, Bäru decided that he would stay in these waters. His sacred powers and those of fire imbue the water there today.

Later from the same beach the Ancestral Hunters took their hunting harpoon and canoe out to the sea of Yathikpa in pursuit of the dugong. The hunters were lured too close to a dangerous rock by the dugong seeking shelter. At this sacred site fire spouted and boiled the water, capsizing the canoe. The sacred harpoon changed into Dhakandjali (YS: or Dhupundji) the hollow log coffin that floats on the seas of Yathikpa and further afield within Blue Mud Bay. It travels along the coast connecting other clans (Maŋgalili, Dhaḻwaŋu and Munyuku).


Neither of these provide you a strict narrative lining up perfectly with the track listing on the CD, but you can see the connections and understand a little of the context. To be too brief, you can look at the tracks about various fish and birds and the animals both seen by the Yolŋu, and who themselves witnessed the events of the story.

The album ends with Waŋupini, thunderclouds rising over the sea. I wish I had all the photos I took the day of the recording, but they’re all on a drive somewhere in Yirrkala. As the songs were sung, the clouds gathered on the horizon over Blue Mud Bay. I took photos on the spot that Djambawa indicated would be the album cover (reminiscent of the original Dhalinybuy cover idea). Instead, I’ll close out this post with a detail of another of his Saltwater paintings, one supervised by his late father Wakuthi. The anvil shape at center is how the Maḏarrpa clan paint their characteristic thundercloud.

Djambawa Marawili - Wangupini
Detail of the Waŋupini from Baraltja by Djambawa Marawili

This has been a very simple look at some of the Maḏarrpa clan art and story which is expressed much more deeply on the Yilpara CD. If you can find a copy of Saltwater: Yirrkala Bark Paintings of Sea Country for yourself, you will be blown away by the depth of Yolŋu knowledge of and connection to the land, and the beauty of their visual expression of said knowledge and connection. Grab a copy of that book and the CD as part of your journey of understanding the culture that brought us the yiḏaki.

All images & borrowed text above are copyright by Buku-Ḻarrŋgay Mulka Inc. and the artists. All paintings are in the collection of the Australian National Maritime Museum.

Psst. You can also listen to Yilpara here:

 

Wandjuk Marika Plays Yidaki for Werner Herzog

In January, I posted a classic recording of the late Rirratjiŋu leader Wandjuk Marika playing yidaki. Thanks to equally legendary filmmaker Werner Herzog, we also have some great quality footage of Wandjuk playing. In this clip from the opening of the 1984 film ‘Where the Green Ants Dream‘ Wandjuk plays a snippet of brolga song.

The film also features a few clips of song & dance. But no, in real life Yolŋu don’t ever freeze like that at the end of a dance.

This may be a controversial statement, but those are the only good parts of the film. As a whole, it bears all the marks of an outsider with grand ideas telling Aboriginal People what to do instead of listening to them and letting them tell their own story.

Wandjuk spoke about the experience of making the film as he narrated the book Wandjuk Marika: Life Story, as told to Jennifer Isaacs (which you should read).

Wandjuk Marika: Life Story as told to Jennifer Isaacs

I was very sad and we were there for three-and-a-half weeks to make the Green Ant film… All my people was there and three of us is main ones: Roy, Wukaka and myself, Wandjuk Marika.

We change the name instead of our own names… We told them, “Do not put our name on it, because my name and Roy’s name is on the land right book. The people have been push ourselves to Land Rights case, Rirratjiŋu.” But I found it there, on the film – which is make me sad or unhappy…

Then the three of us flew over to Melbourne pretending to the Land Right case, which is Judge Blackburn’s work, which is made up – that was the very dangerous thing to do…

In the late 60’s and early 70’s, Wandjuk and Roy Marika signed the Yirrkala Bark Petition and played significant roles in Milirrpum v Nabalco Pty Ltd, Australia’s first ever land rights case, wherein the people of Yirrkala sued to claim ownership of the land they had lived on for untold generations. They of course lost. Their law was not recognized by the occupying government. This was a very tender sore spot for the Yolŋu People, and Wandjuk worried that the film’s re-enactment made a mockery of the real case that he cared so much about.

Wandjuk also called out the phoniness of the story and complained about being directed by an outsider to make a mockery of Aboriginal law.

…in that film that Dreaming is made up (that’s a made up Dreaming, yes it’s a true story about the Green Ant Dreaming but from Oenpelli Dreaming, not for Rirratjiŋu, not for Wuḻaḻa, that Dreaming is for Gunwinggu western Arnhem Land. Green ants don’t live in the desert…)

And also I always feel angry and get wild because they always ask me to say this and say that and do what I don’t want to do, and I said, “Look, don’t ever ask me to do that… I know how to speak English, I know what to deal with…”

and Werner Herzog said, “Yes, I know but I’m from a different country.”

“What does it matter what different country, why you come to Australia?”

There it is. The do-gooder outsider co-opting the indigenous people and their story in his own way. And this is why Wandjuk says:

The special film was the one I made by myself. I ask Ian Dunlop, he was working in Film Australia, my film is (In) Memory of Mawalan.

After his father Mawalan’s passing, Wandjuk instigated a large Djuŋguwan ceremony and invited Ian Dunlop and crew to film it as part of the Yirrkala Film Project. It’s a stretch for Wandjuk to say he made the film by himself, but we know what he meant, and how important the movement he began is. He was a large part of the founding of Buku-Ḻarrŋgay Mulka, Yirrkala’s own community art centre in the 1970’s. When we expanded it with the Mulka Project multimedia centre in 2007, we had the specific goal of turning modern media over to Yolŋu to tell their own stories from now on. The way Wandjuk would have wanted it.

See how I drew you in with yiḏaki then made this post all about larger cultural issues? Tricky, eh?

Yolngu Mälk, or Skin Names

Yolngu Culture - Malk

Didgeridoo players who visit northeast Arnhem Land or study Yolŋu culture at all invariably run into the complexities of Yolŋu kinship. I spent a lot of time trying to work it all out during and after my first visit to Arnhem Land in 1999. I understood bits and pieces through my studies and further visits, but it took the full immersion of living in Arnhem Land to get comfortable with it all. I’ve thought in the past about blogging about the subject, and finally am getting around to it thanks to a nudge from a little bird.

This video from a couple years ago recently gained some new attention on social media. I for one shared it on the YidakiStory Facebook Page. Everyone calls this humbugging little corella Ngarritj, or Ŋarritj. That’s a Yolŋu mälk, or skin name, and part of the wee fella’s identity. This post introduces you to this aspect of Yolŋu kinship and identity.

First, let’s review Dhuwa and Yirritja

Everything in the Yolŋu universe is identified with one of the two moieties, or halves, of the culture – Dhuwa and Yirritja. We covered this already, mostly with an extended quote from the late Dr. Marika, ON THIS PAGE of Yidakiwuy Dhäwu Miwatjŋurunydja. In short, it’s almost as if there are two entirely different Yolŋu cultures with their own languages, ceremonies and origin stories. But they always interact, look after each other, intermarry, and give birth to each other. Every clan, person, song, animal, tree, and shape of thundercloud is either Dhuwa or Yirritja. That’s all you need to know about the moieties right now.

The Mälk System

From the outside, academic perspective, this is a ‘subsection’ system, a term going back to anthropologist Dr. A. R. Radcliffe-Brown. Similar systems are found in much of Australia. The general term ‘skin names’ refers to all these systems, but I don’t recall the origin of that term and can’t find it with a quick bit of googling. People’s physical skin has nothing to do with these names in any region I know about. If I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably a loose translation of a word from the desert that was popularized as THE English name of the concept around the country.

In the Yolŋu world, mälk are a set of shared personal names that have some bearing on marriage options. The Yirritja and Dhuwa moiety each have 4 sets of male/female names.

Yirritja Mälk Dhuwa Mälk
male
female
Gotjuk
Gotjan
Balaŋ
Bilinydjan
male
female
Ŋarritj
Ŋarritjan
Gamarraŋ
Gamanydjan
male
female
Baŋaḏi
Baŋaḏitjan
Burralaŋ
Galikali
male
female
Buḻany
Buḻanydjan
Wämut
Wamuttjan

Every Yolŋu person has one of these mälk/skin names and responds to it just like a personal name. Children are often called only by their mälk. Sometimes people whose personal name is the same or similar to the personal name of a recently deceased person will be called by their mälk. Sometimes people of certain relationships to each other will use mälk rather than personal names. It may sound impersonal, but is a friendly way to call out to someone.

A person’s mälk is determined by their mother’s. It’s not the same as their mother’s, but determined by a set cycle. I made this chart back in 2000 for some talks I gave about my first visit to Arnhem Land.

Yolngu skin name or malk system
A chart of the Yolŋu mälk system.

The red arrows show the passage of the names. For example, see gotjan, the female version of gotjuk/gotjan at the top left. The red arrow points to balaŋ/bilinydjan. A gotjan woman bears balaŋ boys and bilinydjan girls.

If Ŋarritj the corella has any sister birds out there, they are ŋarritjan and their eggs will hatch gamarraŋ and gamanydjan males and females. Make sense?

Note that Yirritja women bear Dhuwa children, and vice versa. This may help reinforce your understanding of the concept of Yothu-Yindi that we discussed in the Yidakiwuy Dhäwu HERE.

Marriage & Mälk

Now look at the yellow arrows. These indicate preferred marriage partners. First off, note that all marriages are between men and women of opposite moieties. Now, find the buḻany male at the bottom left. He should marry galikali or bilinydjan women. Note that a galikali woman bears gotjuk/gotjan children and a bilinydjan woman bears baŋaḏi/baŋaḏitjan children. The buḻany male does not determine mälk of the child (though he does narrow down the options).

In many cases, this means that people of the same mälk are brothers and sisters. But if you think about it for a while, you see how this is not necessarily the case. For one thing, due to the old practice of polygamy or any number of reasons, a man may have children with more than one woman. A buḻany man may have children with both galikali and bilinydjan women. So his own sons could be two different mälk. That said, Yolŋu mostly defer to matrilineal lines when working out relationships to each other.

Still, the possible sibling connection of people with the same mälk may be used to decide a relationship to an unknown Aboriginal Person from far away or an adopted outsider. I was first adopted at Ramingining, on the western edge of Yolŋu country. When I arrived in far northeast Arnhem Land, I tried to explain who adopted me. The Yolŋu there didn’t know who I was talking about, either because they genuinely didn’t know them or because I didn’t yet know how to communicate well with them. So they decided to re-adopt me into their family based on my mälk. Since I was buḻany, I was made brother to the nearest buḻany and buḻanydjan Yolŋu in this immediate family.

So how did Ŋarritj the bird get a skin name? I don’t know exactly. If anybody out there at Galiwin’ku reads this, please comment to let us know! I’d imagine it has to do with the people who found and took him into their home and the fact that his species, ŋalalak, is Yirritja.

Got it? Makes perfect sense, right? OK, now you can forget it.

Four years after my first visit/one year after my third visit, I thought I had this all figured. Then I discovered that a Yolŋu couple I knew well were the wrong mälk to be married to each other. That blew my mind.

My 2000 edition of the CDU Yolŋu Studies Study Notes book says:

It is important to remember that when Yolŋu identify how they are related to other Yolŋu, they very seldom use mälk. Gurruṯu (YidakiStory: actual bloodlines) is always the important rom (YS: law) for people who can trace ancestral connections.

That’s the big difference that confounded me when I first moved to Arnhem Land. Yolŋu love talking to visitors about mälk. They give you a skin name, call you by it. Perhaps for the same reason they refer to their children by mälk, although we newbie outsiders understand it less than Yolŋu 3-year olds do. But in Yolŋu relationships, the actual family lines that go back untold generations matter more than the too-tidy mälk system.

The first vocabulary you need to learn to participate in most everyday Yolŋu conversations is about gurruṯu. The words for father, mother, aunt, uncle, maternal grandmother, paternal grandmother, etc. Yolŋu talk about family all the time. Their whole lives revolve around family. My own adoption never fully made sense to me until I understood that I wasn’t just a buḻany who hung out a lot with his waku, Djalu’ Gurruwiwi. During all my brief visits, I thought that should be enough information, but it wasn’t. Even though I barely knew him during my first visits, the important detail is that I’m the late Djäŋa Yunupiŋu’s brother. The fact that he was a buḻany didn’t matter at all when working out my relationship with any Yolŋu I met while living in Arnhem Land.

Furthermore, mälk is (or was not so long ago) NEWFANGLED.

This is the part current Yolŋu may not know or agree with, themselves.

While variations of skin name systems exist over large parts of Australia, some anthropologists theorize based on linguistic clues that the whole idea originated in the Daly River region of northwestern Northern Territory, and spread from there. Dr. W. Lloyd Warner discussed the mälk system at Milingimbi, on the west side of Yolŋu country in the 1920s, but Dr. Ronald M. Berndt, who worked in Yirrkala, the far northeast corner of Yolŋu country, in 1946-7, said that mälk was a brand new concept there. He discussed this more in his book ‘Love Songs of Arnhem Land’, but I just have his book ‘Kunapipi’ handy, in which he says:

…within recent years the sub-section system has been introduced from the south and south-west, coming up the coast through Rose River and Blue Mud Bay. In the Milingimbi region it seems to have been introduced at an earlier date, through contact with the inland tribes, particularly the Rembarrnga. At Yirrkalla (sic), however, the sub-sections are not yet completely co-ordinated with the kinship terminology, and among the older people are not in constant use.

This certainly helps to explain why actual relationships are better known and more useful to everyday Yolŋu life, still today.

So what does this mean to you, dear reader?

Honestly? Probably nothing. How many of you even read this far? The average didgeridoo player around the world doesn’t need to know any of this. Anyone who does spend any amount of time with Yolŋu will however run into these issues. I know I had a great fun playing with the mälk system, trying to understand it. I’m glad I did. You’ll have fun conversations with Yolŋu as your mind boggles over these things. Then you’ll move on. If you become more a part of Yolŋu life, you’ll understand things as you need to. This post will give you a big head start, though, and you can come back and refer to it as needed.

Now go and play some yidaki.

Yidaki of the Month #8, February 2018, by Milkay Mununggurr

Milkay Mununggurr Yidaki of the Month

I love telling people this story, mostly so I can say the following sentence. This is the only yidaki I ever bought because I didn’t like it.

Early in 2004, Milkay and I scheduled our first meeting to work on the Hard Tongue Didgeridoo CD. He recently sold a batch of yidaki to us at Buku-Ḻarrŋgay Mulka. When he met me there, I showed him my favorite of the bunch and suggested that he use it to teach me. He played it very briefly then dismissed it. He chose another one. One that I could barely even play, due to its tight mouthpiece and very high back pressure for a lower-pitched yidaki. Milkay declared that it had “good balance.” I didn’t understand.

After that first lesson, it went back into the available stock at Buku-Ḻarrŋgay. I decided I better practice on it until it sold, to try and figure out why it was good to him but practically unplayable for me. My lip control improved over a few weeks of picking it up and playing for just a minute at a time here and there throughout my work day. After about a month, nobody bought it from Buku’s website, so I decided I simply had to buy it for myself. I still have it and love it, although I admit it’s still not the easiest for me to play.

Milkay yidaki
A screenshot from the old yirrkala.com archive. See, any of you could have bought this one back in 2004.

We went on to use it for the trumpet exercises and cover images of the CD. So I trust all of you have seen and heard this one already.

Milkay Mununggurr Hard Tongue Didgeridoo

Stats:
drone – right on the edge of D and D# • first trumpeted note – F
150cm long • 2.8cm mouthpiece (interior average) • 8.6cm bell (largest part of exterior)

Milkay yidaki mouthpiece
Mouthpiece

Milkay yidaki bell
Bottom end

Here’s the maker playing it.

Djalu’ taking his turn.

Interestingly, Djalu’ commented that this yidaki has the same deep and powerful sound as his own, but that he didn’t like the higher back pressure. He spotted it right away as the sound of an older man, but the playing qualities that younger Yolŋu go for.

Here’s another one of those younger Yolŋu players, the late Mirrwatŋa Munyarryun. He and a few of his family at Dhalinybuy all agreed this was a good “bass yidaki” suitable for ceremonial use.

Lastly, here’s when I played it as part of my “Didjeridu of the Day” series on Instagram.

Milkay & Buyu play yidaki
Milkay & his son Buyu play this and Yiḏaki of the Month #2 at Dhanaya in 2005.

PREVIOUS YIDAKI OF THE MONTH:
#1, July 2017, by Djakanŋu Yunupiŋu
#2, August 2017, by Milkayŋu Munuŋgurr
#3, September 2017, by Djalu’ Gurruwiwi
#4, October 2017, by Burrŋupurrŋu Wunuŋmurra
#5, November 2017, by Baḏikupa Gurruwiwi
#6, December 2017, by Buwathay Munyarryun
#7, January 2018, a Bad Yiḏaki

Gurrumuru CD – More Info

Gurrumuru CD

Last month, I gave you a mother lode of information about the Mulka Project’s Dhalinybuy CD. Documentation for the other titles I recorded wasn’t so far along when I suddenly had to leave Yirrkala, but I’ll provide you what I can to try and fulfill the original educational goal of these CDs. This month, Gurrumuru.

Gurrumuru sign
The Road to Gurrumuru.

We recorded at the Dhaḻwaŋu clan homeland of Gurrumuru on 28 September 2007. Once again, it was a road trip from Yirrkala with a stash of food, basic recording gear, the original young Mulka staff Ḏiṉḏirrk Munuŋgurr and Ṉuwaniny Burarrwaŋa and this time Buku-Ḻarrŋgay staff member Balwaltja Munuŋgurr, who wanted to see the process and visit family at Gurrumuru. Dhaḻwaŋu clan leaders Yumutjin and Warralka Wunuŋmurra sang while their gäthu, or nephew by non-Yolŋu thinking, Wambuna played yidaki (a yidaki you can hear more of HERE).

Gurrumuru Studios, Studio A
Studio A, Gurrumuru

We had one little mishap that day and the external hard drive used for the recording took a tumble. It seemed fine, but died completely shortly after the trip while I was trying to back it up. Fortunately, I already made a rough mix for the artists. That rough mix had to serve as the final mix. At least on this CD, there was no hard work to be done mixing it!

Gurrumuru band
From left, Wambuna, Yumutjin and Warralka Wunuŋmurra.

We recorded Yumutjin telling the story of the songs before I left Yirrkala, but we didn’t finish transcribing or translating it. My knowledge of the Dhaḻwaŋu Dhay’yi language and the high level ceremonial words Yumutjin used isn’t sufficient for me to do it on my own now. Instead of pestering some Yolŋu to help for free long distance, I’ll summarize as best I can.

The songs tell of Birrinydji, or Ḻiya-Yiki, the knife warrior. Some say he was a Macassan, one of the sailors from modern day Sulawesi in Indonesia who came to Arnhem Land hundreds of years before Europeans arrived. Some say he was something else. Macassans didn’t normally venture as far inland as Gurrumuru. Maybe he was one of the Bayini, a group shrouded in myth who arrived before the Macassans. Maybe he was something else. Some historians believe Chinese sailors visited the Arnhem Land coast first. In either case, the songs of Gurrumuru and Birrinydji include introduced material culture such as knives, tobacco, playing cards, and rice.

Gurrumuru on bark by Yumutjin Wunungmurra
Bark painting by Yumutjin Wunuŋmurra.

To paraphrase Yumutjin:

This is how we sing the land at Gurrumuru. We sing of the warriors of the knife at Gurrumuru. Of the preparation of the place for the spirit we call Ḻiya-Yiki.

They followed the path, came to this place and prepared the land, clearing the brush. Making the place clean. This is the place they and we belong.

He spotted a special tree and went to sit in its shade to look over the clearing. He fell asleep and dreamed of the place. When he awoke, he smoked tobacco from his long pipe. It is a special smoke given to the people of Gurrumuru. Then he got up and began playing and singing. (YidakiStory side note: he plays the djoling, often translated either as ‘mouth harp’ or ‘flute’. I suspect it is not a coincidence that Indonesians have a bamboo flute called suling, and that Yolŋu don’t have an ‘s’ in their language).

From there, he went to find money and started playing cards with the other men. There is tension among them. He goes and gets alcohol and drinks. As he gets drunk, he gets more wild. He gets his knife and begins an aggressive dance. The red calico flags of Gurrumuru are raised.

Meanwhile, rice is being cooked. Some is stirred in the pot and some is tossed into the clearing. All the leftovers are thrown out to the clearing. The jungle fowl Djiḻawurr emerges, stamps its feet in the rice and calls out. It announces to other birds and by extension the humans that the north wind is coming, clearing the air and the land.

As Djiḻawurr cries out, the sun sets, casting spectacular colours of red and yellow in the clouds.

I’ve posted this several times before but here again is a video clip from near the end of the recording session.

Much of Yumutjin’s telling included lists of ‘power names’ for places, people and objects. I don’t feel comfortable including them here without his oversight even though he recorded the statement for the public. I might get something wrong and the specific words don’t contribute much to the story for us outsiders, anyway.

I don’t want to overstep any other bounds, but I’ll say that Djiḻawurr’s calls are often said to be announcements of death and the raising of flags is part of mortuary ceremony. It’s probably safe to assume that Birrinydji’s drunken aggression with his knife was his undoing, and that this story establishes Dhaḻwaŋu funeral practices. That’s all I’ll say about that.

A couple of years later, the Mulka Project worked with Yumutjin and others at Gurrumuru to create a short film of the dance for a small part of this song cycle. You can get a little more context and see the quick version of the story as told here:

I hope this helps you appreciate that CD or download you’ve got a little bit more and gives you another small window of insight into Yolŋu culture.

See also my post about the origins of the CD series HERE.