In the stark beauty ofAustralia's Northern

Territory, Ray Norrisstumbles across a fellow

astronomer of a verydifferent tradition.

AT THE OLD MAN'S INVITATION,I sit down on the rug next to him and

hold out my hand. His chest bears the

proud scars of a fully initiated Yolngu man,

and his bearing and charisma tell me that he

is a leader of his people. "G'day," I say. "Ray

Norris. Glad to meet you." Putting down his

asthma puffer, he reaches over and shakes

my hand. "Mathulu." My jaw drops. Mathulu

Munyarryun? Renowned ceremonial leader,

custodian of ancient Yolngu stories of the sky?

In our quest over the last two years to

understand the astronomy of the Yolngu

people, one name has come up repeatedly in

conversation - Mathulu. But wherever we go,

he always seems to be somewhere else. At

last, in this remote Arnhem Land community

of Dhalinybuy, we get to meet him.

As far back as 1948, a strong astronomical

element was identified in the bark-paintings

and ceremonies at Yirrkala, the largest

Aboriginal community in the region. The

Yolngu people who live there have a culture

that stretches back some 50,000 years,

predating the builders of Stonehenge and

the pyramids by millennia. Could they be theworld's first astronomers? How could we find

out? In August 2007, my wife Cilia and I areon our third visit to Arnhem Land, and we're

driven to find the answers to these questions.

ARNHEM LAND in the Northern Territory

is an area almost the size of Portugal, and

is designated as an Aboriginal reserve. The

Yolngu people who live there control their

own local government, and have banned

alcohol and drugs from their communities,

thus avoiding the crippling social problems

which have propelled some other Aboriginal

communities into the news in recent years.

The Yolngu tread a delicate balance between

keeping their traditional culture vibrant and

giving their kids the opportunity to take their

place in the modern world.Perched on the remote northeast corner

of Arnhem Land is the mining town of

Nhulunbuy, carved out in 1963 from the

Aboriginal territory by a government which

didn't even consider consulting the traditional

owners living in Yirrkala, a few kilometres

away. The ensuing protest, culminating in the

'Yirrkala Bark Petition' sent later that year to

Canberra, marked the start of the Aboriginal

rights movement in Australia.Our lOOO-kilometre drive from Darwin is

mostly on the 'Central Arnhem Highway' - a

lonely red-dirt track traversing remote, wooded

ridges. On either side, graceful pandanus

palms and tree-ferns are reflected in creeks of

clear, still water. Beautiful - but inhabited by

deadly crocodiles. A bit of a worry when you

have to drive across the creek. What happens

if the engine stalls?

Our long journey ends in Yirrkala, just

outside Nhulunbuy, passing the freshlywatered oval, well maintained houses, and

children fishing on the beach. First stop is the

Buku-Larrnggay Mulka Art Centre, whichmarkets Yirrkala artwork. It's here we learn

about the elusive Mathulu Munyarryun,

and yearn to find out more about the local

traditions and their link to astronomy.

Djapirri Mununggirritj runs the YirrkalaWomen's Resource Centre, and is a mover

and shaker in the community. When she's not

producing her award-winning art, she's picking

up errant kids in her 'Night Patrol' land cruiser.

Two years ago, Djapirri took us under her wing,

and introduced us to the people who could

tell us about Yolngu astronomy. In the lead­

up to this trip, I've been reading about the

Morning Star Ceremony, and ask Djapirri

about it. "Yo," she replies, smiling thoughtfully,and takes us into her house.

Venus, the Morning Star, is called

Banumbirr by the Yolngu people. They tell

how, in the Dreaming, she came across the

ocean from Baralku, the Island of the Dead.

As she crossed the shoreline near Yirrkala,Banumbirr named and created the animals

and places. A rope prevented her from rising

too high in the sky, which explains why

we only ever see Venus low in the Eastin the time before dawn.

Djapirri disappears into a room of her

house and re-emerges with a large object

from which she removes a covering sheet.

It's a pole, perhaps a metre long, decorated

with the beautiful cross-hatch designs

characteristic of Yolngu art, and crested

by snow-white magpie-goose feathers,

symbolising Banumbirr. From it hang strings

made from pandanus leaves, bearing more> >

representingaround Venus.

grandmother's

Djurrpun

that raika,

the river,

o

see what he can do. Then I explain about

the eclipse. Emma has already planned an

evening event, with a barbecue for the kids

followed by a movie projected from her

laptop - provided the generator works, that is.

The lunar eclipse should make a welcome

highlight to the evening's entertainment.

LATE IN THE AFTERNOON, Gurumin

approaches me and says the older men are

ready to speak to us about their stories.

We follow him across the community and

come to a group of men sitting on a rug.

Following Yolngu custom, we wait nearby

until invited to join them.

This is when we finally meet the elusive

Mathulu Munyarryun. He prefers to speak in

Yolngu, so a younger man, Banul, translates

for us. Mathulu starts telling a story:

"A lady went out to a waterhole, and she sat

collecting raika nuts ...". I've read this story

before, about the Evening Star, Djurrpun, butit's wonderful to hear it from the mouth of an

elder, in this exotic setting.Mathulu continues. "When

sets just after the Sun, we knowthe nuts from the rushes in

are ready to be harvested."Such astronomical calendars abound in

Australian Aboriginal cultures, the best-known

being the Emu in the Sky. But which star

does Mathulu mean? Venus? Maybe. It ties

in with the fact that people with Djurrpun­

dreaming marry people with Banumbirr­

dreaming. But Venus wouldn't be any

good for telling you when to harvest raika,

as its setting time changes from year to year.

I ask which star is Djurrpun, and Banul

promises to show me after dark.

Then the conversation takes an unexpected

twist. From a bag, Banul produces a long

rope. "This is a Laka - an Evening Star Rope",

explains Mathulu. Frankly, I'm flabbergasted.

I've spent the last couple of years reading the

literature on Yolngu culture, and I've never

before heard of the Laka. I'm pretty certainit's new to Western academia.

"It's a line of stars in the sky", explains

Mathulu, "and when the first star sets just

after sunset, that's time for the women tocollect the raika nuts." He lets me handle

the rope, which is made of pandanus twine,

twisted together with possum fur and lorikeet

feathers. Woven in to the rope are the

yellow-white marbles of the raika nuts.

"This Laka is a memorial to my

grandmother," continues Mathulu, "and we

Nothing too serious, thank heavens.

Later that week we join some teachers from

the Yirrkala Homeland School who are heading

out to a remote community called Dhalinybuy- the ancestral home of one of the

Yolngu clans. The timing is perfect

- on the following Tuesday night

there'll be a total lunar eclipse

- a great chance to show the kids

some astronomy in action, and

maybe even hear some storiesfrom the elders.

Driving into Dhalinybuy the next

morning, we find a community of low

buildings in a clearing carved out of the

bush. The largest is the school room, where

teacher, Emma Parry, from Nhulunbuy,

works with a local indigenous teacher,

Gurumin, in a class of perhaps 20 Yolngu

kids, ranging from tiny tots to strapping

teens. All look fit and healthy, with a large

part of their diet consisting of traditional

foods. With no shops in the community, they

have very little access to lollies and soft drinks.

So the size of my stomach seems to be

a topic of curiosity for them.

Over lunch, Cilia and I explain to Gurumin

our interest in Yolngu astronomy, and ask

whether there might be a chance of speaking

to the older men about it. He promises to

IN THE NEARBY MINING TOWN

of Nhulunbuy, half the cars seem to be

white four-wheel-drives, and half the

population wear the orange safety uniforms

of the Alcan mining company, who

are sponsoring my visit. Among them is

lan Maclean, an engineer with Alcan,

but better known as the indefatigable

president of Gove Amateur Astronomers,who has invited me here for National Science

Week, in August 2007.And what a weekl We reckon that

half the 4,000 population of Nhulunbuy

have been to our talks, or enjoyed the

planetarium shows provided by myoid

friend Ray Johnston, who runs Star

Dreaming, a mobile planetarium and

educational theatre. A high point

for me is giving a public talk on

Aboriginal astronomy. In the front row

sits Djapirri, making me feel a little

ridiculous as I explain aspects of

her culture to her. At the end,

she smiles her approval, and presentsme with a list of corrections.

> > bunches of white feathers,other clans and other stars

"This was used for my

ceremony," explains Djapirri.

In the beautiful Morning Star Ceremony,

the Yolngu people communicate with ancestors

living on Baralku with the help of the Morning

Star Pole. The ceremony begins at dusk

and continues through the night, reachinga climax when Banumbirr rises a few hours

before dawn. Behind her she trails the

rope, along which messages pass between

the Yolngu and their ancestors. "Have you

seen the rope?" asks Djapirri. I shake my head,

mystified. "You balander don't get up early

enough to see it," laughs Djapirri, referring

to us by the slang term for 'white folk',

"but you can see it if you look hard."

A faint rope of light extending down

from Venus? Then I realise she's referring

to what astronomers call zodiacal light,

caused by extraterrestrial dust in the plane

of the Solar System. While most of us

find it hard to see in our polluted skies,

it's easily visible in the clear dark skies andlow latitude of Arnhem Land.

Here is aboriginal astronomy in a nutshell.

Built into traditional Yolngu culture is the

knowledge that Venus never strays far

from the Sun, explained in terms of a rope,

which we see as zodiacal light.

+++

Each morning,the Sun-woman

lights a small fire,creating dawn, anddecorates herselfwith red ochre.

used it at her funeral to send her spirit off

to the evening star. Like this." Together, he andBanul demonstrate how a line of mourners

holds the rope on their heads, linking them

to the grandmother as they send her spirit

off. "And then we take the rope again

to other funerals, so that all the ancestors

come to the ceremony."

I ask Mathulu if they know about the

eclipse that evening, or know any stories about

eclipses. Apparently not. Pity. I know the Sun

and Moon are important in Yolngu culture, and

I was hoping that eclipses might be too.

For Yolngu people, the Moon, Ngalindi,

is male, and the Sun, Walu, is female. Each

morning, Walu, the Sun-woman, lights a small

fire, creating dawn. She decorates herself

with red ochre, some of which spills onto the

clouds, creating the red sunrise. She then

lights her torch, made from a stringy-bark

tree, and travels across the sky from east

to west, carrying daylight in the form of her

blazing torch. As she descends at the end of

her journey, some of the ochre again dusts the

clouds to create the red sunset. On reaching

[he western horizon, she puts out her torch,

and starts the long journey underground back

to the morning camp in the east.

Ngalindi, the Moon-man, also travels across

the sky. Originally, he was

fat and lazy (corresponding

to the full Moon), for which

he was punished by his

wives, who chopped bits

off him with their axes,

producing the slender

waning Moon. Mortally

wounded, he died (the new

Moon), but rose again after

three days, growing round

and fat (the waxing Moon),

until, after two weeks his wives attacked him

again. This cycle repeats every month.

The Yolngu stories also associate the

Moon with tides, linking high tides with the

full Moon and new Moon, and low tides

with the half-Moon. These changes are

explained in terms of the Moon filling

and emptying with seawater as it rises and

sets through the horizon.

The Warlpiri people in the far west of

the Northern territory say a solar eclipse

happens when the Sun-woman is hidden by

the Moon-man as they make love. On the

other hand, a lunar eclipse is caused when the

Moon-man is threatened by the Sun-woman

who is pursuing him and perhaps catching

up. In other words, traditional Aboriginal lore

includes the astronomical knowledge that

eclipses are caused by the

intersecting paths of the

Sun and Moon as they travel

across the sky. Other stories

tell how the Moon zigzags

across the sky, trying toavoid the advances of the

Sun-woman as she blazes

her steady trail. These

stories reveal knowledge of

the complex motion of the

Moon, which oscillates from

North to South in the sky each month.

That evening, at the appointed time,

the Moon slowly moves into the shadow of

the Earth, the kids staring wide-eyed at the

first eclipse of their lives. Gurumin translates

into Yolngu as I explain to the kids what's

happening, demonstrating with two dinner

plates and a torch. As the last bright limb of

the Moon is eclipsed by the Earth, I call out

some of my few Yolngu words: "Nhama ya/a/a,

Nga/indi [See you later, Moon]". The kids burst

out laughing at my terrible pronunciation, but

join me in waving goodbye to the Moon.

Walking back to the school, I ask Banul

which is the Evening Star. "That one:' he

says confidently, pointing at the star Spica.

Yes, that fits. Spica sets behind the Sun

in October, just before the raika harvest.

Another puzzle solved.

So were these people the world's first

astronomers? Certainly there seems to be

a vast amount of astronomical knowledge

embedded in their songs and ceremonies.

Certainly some of these songs are very, very

old. My hunch is that this knowledge extends

back through the millennia. But it will take far

more work to answer this question for sure.

The next morning, the kids are still

chattering excitedly about the eclipse.

A couple of them point at me, laughing,

"Ngalindil Ngalindjl" Are they referring

to my riveting explanation of the eclipse,

or to my poor pronunciation? And then the

penny drops: Ngalindi was a very fat man. i!!i

RAY NORRIS is an astrophysicist with the CSIRO

Austrolia Telescope, whose day job is to research the

origin of galaxies after the Big Bang. Three years ago

he started a project to study Aboriginal astronomy,

motivated partly by curiosity, and partly by the need for

better Western understanding of Aboriginal cultures.