> > >To the Ends of the Earth 1. > >Thanks to a welcome donation of �500 from a Canadian reader of BD now , I was >able to raise the money for the airfare to launch my long awaited >investigation into the origins of a mystery cluster of neurodegenerative >disease that had erupted in a remote Aboriginal outback of the Northern >Australian territoritories. > >I had arrived to stay with the Lalara family in Darwin - an Aboriginal family >who used to live on Groote Eylandt - a one time enchanted tropical island in >the Gulf of Carpentaria where bushlands and forests of stringy backed >eucalypts, pandanus and cypress pine hosted ideal nomadic hunter /gatherer >grounds for several Aboriginal clans. > >When I first set eyes on Warren Lalara, I instantly comprehended why he had >left his former island home . His grotesque condition also confirmed my >reasons for coming all this way. > > In trying to greet me, Warren was unable to rise from the tiled floor. I >could sense that the one time fit and healthy mineworker and father of two >felt humiliated ; his legs were sprawled out , pathetically kicking like a >frog on ice. Every muscle and bone on his body were shrunk and wasted back >to child size - half the size of his 17 year old stout son standing right >over him . > >Warren had been outcast by the medics, bracketed off as one of those >suffering from Groote Eylandt syndrome, a supposedly incurable, progressive >wasting disease that had officially only afflicted those of a single >Aboriginal clan who were specifically residing in the village of Angurugu on >Groote - some years after the missionaries had persuaded them to drop their >nomadic way of life and settle down to a more 'civilized' western lifestyle. > >A growing cliche of expert geneticists are rapidly laying claim to full >ownership and academic rights over this new disease. They have coined the >classy name 'Machado-Josephs disease', and run a host of sharp-suited >symposiums set in expensive Florida Hotels thousands of miles adrift from >Angurugu - the hotbed of the real problem. And a rainforest's worth of >condescending letters have been written to the Aboriginal elders urging them >to join up with the belief system that the Aboriginal "drunken walking" >problems are purely to blame on their "seed" . This alleged weak gene was >supposedly introduced by visiting Macassan sailors who had occasionally >interbred with Aboriginal women on the shores of Groote about 300 years ago. > > But this theory leaves many blatant questions unanswered surrounding the >origins of the condition. Why has Groote Eylandt syndrome only recently >emerged since the 1970s when the hypothetical interbreeding took place up to >300 years ago ? Why has the disease occassionally affected the Caucasian >residents on Groote too - albeit only one or two to date? Why has the disease >largely only affected one village region, yet failed to erupt in the myriad >of other global populations where the Macassans have sailed and interbred ? > >This evening I wheeled Warren in his chair to the aeroplane bound for >Groote. After much difficulties manhandling Warren up the steep steps to the >plane, the hostess and I got him belted in. Warren was going to take me back >to his former island home of Angurugu and introduce me to the surviving >members of his clan - those still living amidst the hotspot of this cluster >zone of mystery neurodegenerative disease. > >The aeroplane contained a strange incongruous mix of western mining tycoons, >an Anglican priest and a pair of first time aboriginal mothers bringing their >newborn babies home after a "hygienic" hospital birth . > >As the plane began its descent to the island, Warren croaked at me - because >he could no longer talk -frantically stubbing at the window with the butt of >his clawed back hand as we passed over the lights of the mine's crusher >where he and his clan had worked since the early 1960s. A slight shiver >numbed my enthusiasm for our imminent investigation, as I remembered >Warren's partner's horror stories about the dramatic changes to Aboriginal >life since western culture had imposed its stranglehold of controls - one >such legacy involved an upsurge in extreme violence and deviant behavioural >psychoses. This seems to have run in tandem with the emergence of Groote >Eylandt syndrome. For instance, when first light broke one morning last week, >everyone awoke in the village to witness two mercy killings where young lads >had macheted two people into pieces . And then when we got to the Mission's >daycare house where Warren and I were staying, the missionary informed us >that there were currently a record of 30 people now suffering from Groote >syndrome , so issues of a future lack of space in their temporary hospital >were of pressing importance . > >I write this alone, as I prepare to go to sleep in the 'dying house'. Outside >in the mordant blackness of the night, I sense the restless ghosts of a co >mmunity at breaking point. I can hear a crocodile snapping down by the >creek, a gunshot from an Aboriginal ghetto across the track, and the >fidgeting of the fruit bats in the pandanus trees. I think of Warren's >inescapable isolation. His helpless vacant stare, his ego and life force >totally shot out of him. > > I draw some comfort from an invite to go "yamming" in the rainforest >tomorrow with Warren's only surviving sister who has not got the disease. > >
