Off subject slightly, but I once met an elderly indigenous guy in the organisation I work for who lived in a beautiful house near the sea, had heaps of money and just about the most contented life you could imagine. He was a storeman and he had a pretty cushy number. The store he worked in was immaculately maintained and he took great pride in that.
But he told me that when he retired in 12 months time, he was going to move back home to a little place called Yalgoo. Yalgoo is 500 km NNE of Perth, has a population of about 300, has stinking hot summer days and freezing winter nights, and not much else.
But it was his land. It was where he was born and grew up, and it was where he wanted to die. It just really underlined the bond that indigenous people have with wherever they call home. While I'd like to think I can understand it, I am sure I don't.
The sad thing was he never got there. About 3 months after I met him, he had a massive heart attack at work and passed away. Unfortunately he had his heart attack in the lunch room on a day when the other guys were all out of the depot on jobs. They found him slumped over the lunchroom table next to his sandwiches. I felt really sad for him.
