Cockatoos in the Mangroves
A Poetry Collection
by
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Compassion On the afternoon before going fishing we would often gather around the small dirt fire pit for burning leaves in my Grandmother's back yard. We would stand in a circle facing the fire, close our eyes and my Grandmother would speak one of our old Indigenous languages into the flames. The more our language was thrown into the fire, the higher the flames danced. I felt the low sea breeze circle us as my Grandmother's voice called on our ancestors to guide us to a spot of plentiful fish and a safe return. Upon recollection ourselves she would raise her hands to the skies and tell us which way the wind was blowing and the current would be running, where we should go fishing and the type of fish that we were likely to catch. The silence that began at the fire remained with us as we packed the dinghy with the fishing gear and prepared the food ready for the morning - even when we had readied ourselves for bed there was still no talking - we would bid each other good night with a nod and a hug. As the kookaburras welcomed the shades of pink and orange that penetrated the early morning sky, we would pile into the car, with the dinghy on the back, and head down to the beach and quietly maneuver the car through the mangroves to the muddied boat ramp careful not to disturb the surrounding life. For we knew if we woke the mangrove life then everyone would know what we were doing, and it could scare the fish. There was rarely a word spoken. The boat would hum across the still crystal-clear waters of the Torres Strait careful not to disturb the fish, similar to someone sliding across a glass ceiling. When we arrived at the fishing spot, we would all take turns to ensure that we were exactly aligned to drop anchor where my Grandmother had said the previous afternoon. Agreement was via a nod of the head and slight closing of the eyes. While we readied our fishing lines, one of my aunts would lean over the side of the boat and place her palm flat on the surface of the water and say a quiet offering in language. The fishing would commence as each person was ready. The first small fish caught was usually filleted, dipped in lemon and sprinkled with salt and enjoyed for breakfast. Getting the timing right, as my Grandmother had suggested, was evident in how much fish we did or did not catch. After about an hour of fishing, the air would fill with the voices of one of my aunts who wanted to discuss or share something that was on her mind. Then about an hour later, another aunt would respond and this one conversation on the same topic would continue the whole length of the time spent fishing. Nobody spoke at once and if you could not contribute to the topic being discussed, you just sat, listened and felt the rhythm of the waves as they lapped the side of the boat, as though in union with the mood of the conversation. We knew the fishing was finished by the reds, yellows and oranges of the sun dancing their evening glows across the sky and the slight shift in the surface area of the sea. Upon leaving the fishing spot, one of my aunts would lean over the side of the boat and lay her palm flat on the surface of the water and give thanks in language. Each person always gave a fish, and any remaining bait, back to the ocean. The responsibility of offering thanks was always to the eldest and should she be unable to do so, the responsibility went down the line. The cleaning of the equipment and the fish was again done in silence. There was nothing to say. The fish was shared, and hugs were given with the assurance that what was discussed during fishing remained with the fishing.
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About the Book
There is a great need for poetry in this world. Words twisted together can let the imagination travel through time and place and connects you with a sense of emotional expression and understanding - like all forms of Art. In “Cockatoos in the Mangroves”, Lee-AhMat an Aboriginal-Torres Strait Islander woman covers many of the social and life issues that affect Indigenous Australian. Sharing our knowledge comes with great responsibility, which is passed down from many generations before us. Kyra Kum-Sing, Curator, Boomalli Aboriginal Artists Cooperative, Australia.
With passion and raw honesty, Vanessa S. Lee-AhMat is unapologetic as she writes from a sense of knowing and doing perspective of being an Aboriginal-Torres Strait Islander woman in contemporary Australia. She courageously pens issues experienced by black Indigenous people such as racism and discrimination, lived humor, earthly connections, and environmental disruptions. Through poetry she takes the reader on a deep journey to the darker side of being human as reality is exposed and life is painted through a myriad of emotions.
“Cockatoos in the Mangroves” is confessional and at the same time artfully expressive debut collection of poetry that will leave a fiery footprint on your spirit.
About the Author
VANESSA LEE-AHMAT, an Indigenous Australian, lives on the land of the Gadigal people in Sydney, Australia. She is a poet, writer, social epidemiologist, suicide prevention advocate and a strong believer in social equality. In 2016, Vanessa became the first Indigenous female to graduate with a PhD from the Faculty of Medicine at Griffith University, Queensland. She was the first Indigenous National vice-president for the Public Health Association of Australia, 2011 to 2015, where she advocated for more resources to be allocated towards preventative health. In 2017, Vanessa became the first independent director for Suicide Prevention Australia. Dr Lee-AhMat began writing poetry following the graduation of her PhD, and she offers no apology for her confessional style of poetry. In 2016, Vanessa was invited to present her poetry at the Sydney Writers Festival with other Indigenous Australian poets. Her poem “Warrior Cloak” (a piece about betrayal and resilience) was choregraphed into a seven-minute contemporary Aboriginal dance by choreographer Monica Stevens and performed at Carriage Works in Sydney, Australia. She was invited to contribute poems, in 2017, to the Australian Poetry Journal for their Australian Poetry Anthology series, SKIN; a series of high-level poems interpreting skin. Vanessa’s poem as “Black Women Do” was published as part of a book chapter on women’s resilience. Her poem “My Master”, a poem of courage and strength, has been played on National Indigenous radio and television; she was also invited to perform the poem as part of an interview on National ABC program `All in the Mind’- mental health and suicide prevention. In 2019, Vanessa was invited to read her short story “Compassion” at the opening of Aging Fiercely platform Story Room in preparation for a story telling podcast. She continues to perform and publish her confessional poetry across various media platforms.