Attacked by a swarm of little black flies going for his facial orifices, Felice takes refuge inside his car. Wesley and Bilma join him right away.<\/p>\n
\u00ab Here, Bilma, I\u2019ve been thinking about you, says the young white man opening the glove box of his Toyota. And taking out two hand-decorated sticks: \u00ab I bought them in Barrow Creek. They were painted by a local artist who goes by the name of Rock Jampijinpa\u2026 \u00bb<\/p>\n
He hands the sticks to the Abos who, clearly embarrassed, remain silent for a moment.<\/p>\n
Bilma is the first one to speak.<\/p>\n
\u00ab Felice, this artist died last summer. His name should not be spoken for two years.<\/p>\n
– Why not?<\/p>\n
– When someone dies, their spirit is taken away beyond the seas, on a spirit canoe.<\/p>\n
– Like the Celestial Barges in Ancient Egypt, comments the white young man.<\/p>\n
– The spirit travels along the light pouring from Barnambirr, the morning star, continues Bilma. It is taken to Baralku, an island behind the sun. And there it is welcome by the spirits who\u2019d left before.<\/p>\n
– Farewells are painful, partings are tough, Wesley adds. You don\u2019t want to hold him back by pronouncing his name. \u00bb<\/p>\n
There, in the Middle of Australia, Felice finally understands the meaning of speaking. And the significance of silence.<\/p>\n
His friends explain the term kumanjayi, some sort of verbal BEEP!! censoring both the name of whoever referred to when dead, and any word henceforth forbidden for evoking the deceased. Thus since Rock Jampijinpa has died, one cannot speak the names of the rocks around which are now to be avoided, stretching usual routes in the bush by miles. Some Corroborrees (sacred ceremonies) have even been suspended, the names of the places where the ritual celebrations occur being temporarily banned.<\/p>\n
Felice is amazed. Bilma hands back the painted sticks, and the white young man replaces them in the glove box until next summer. He understands. For his friends, loss is expressed through the temporary dispelling of language elements, an ephemeral disappearance.<\/p>\n
Mourning, here, first implies silence.<\/p>\n
\n
F\u00e9licie Dubois<\/em><\/p>\n (“L’Hypoth\u00e8se de l’argile” by F\u00e9licie Dubois, Ed. Flammarion, 1997)<\/p>\n \n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" Attacked by a swarm of little black flies going for his facial orifices, Felice takes refuge inside his car. Wesley and Bilma join him right away. \u00ab Here, Bilma, I\u2019ve been thinking about you, says the young white man opening the glove box of his Toyota. And taking out two hand-decorated sticks: \u00ab I bought […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":18,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-40888","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-other"],"yoast_head":"\n
\n<\/em><\/p>\n