Finally we made it to Naghir

Late on New Year’s Day, Phil and Sue dropped in to ask Tony for permission to visit Naghir.  Tony was on his afternoon walk so I got Phil’s number and assured him Tony would call.  Phil and Sue’s visit filled me with a sudden and insatiable desire to go to Naghir while the weather was good.  I’d spent years talking to Ina about Naghir, dreamed often about Naghir and written a book about Naghir.  I HAD to go to Naghir NOW.  It was naigai weather, the doldrums.  Once the wet season started, it would be another year before we could get out in a small, open vessel like the Madam Dugong.

     When Tony returned I told him about Phil and Sue.

     ‘I’ve already seen them,’ said Tony.  ‘It’s all good.’

     ‘Well, can you take me to Naghir?’ It was a good thing they dropped in otherwise I'd never have thought about visiting Naghir.

     ‘When?’

     It was Wednesday, 7 pm.  'Friday,’ I said.

     ‘Okay.’

     The trauma from our attempted visit had passed and I was ready to brave the elements providing they were subdued with the five knot wind.

     I spent the night before tossing and turning, praying and asking the ancestors for permission to visit.  I slept for only four hours such was my anxiety.

And we were off just after seven. The water was glass and apart from a bit of chop past Wednesday Isalnd from the tide flowing against the northerly wind.  

     The Madam Dugong skippered by Tony (there was me, Eileen, Pam, Seffy, Kibby, Joey and Gina Rose) and the Miss Seffy skippered by Dr John (with TK, Sutchy and Ruby) arrived at Naghir after 50 minutes.  There was no black curtain of rain, no steam rising from the water and no forked lightning.
     It was low tide when we arrived and an expanse of broken coral stretched from the ‘sand beach’ I had heard so much about.  Tony motored in as close as possible and asked me to walk the anchor up towards the sand.  The coral crunched under my feet as I walked and I immediately thought of Ina's recollection in Ina's Story of ‘cargo boat time,’ the arrival of the cargo boat every few months at Naghir with supplies like flour, sugar, cloth and rope.  At high tide, the supplies were rowed close to the store run by Ina’s father,  Dato Frank.

     At low tide, Ina and her siblings had to walk, barefeet over the coral to the edge of the reef and carry the supplies back to the store.  

    

I was wearing Keens sandals and my feet were protected against the sharp coral, stones and broken shells.  I winced at the thought of Ina making this trip barefeet.

The first thing TK and Sutchy did was go for a dive.  That land mass in the background is St Pauls.

     I spent most of the day walking around, searching for land marks and places Ina had spoken about.  I could see the bamboo and mango saw (pronounced sow), the orchard of bamboo and mango trees on the side of Naghir hill behind where the village was. 

     With Phil’s help, we found two of three wells Ina identified on the map in the book along with Pine and Frogland Creeks, now dry and waiting for the wet season to be filled.  

The main well referred to Ina's Story, cemented by Ina's father.  It was filled with three inches of slimy, green water.

To find the second well, I called Ina in Cairns and she gave directions. 'There's a coconut tree growing in it,' she said.  She was spot on.  There was a young plant in the well, an established tree growing from the edge and a fallen tree behind which appeared to have been growing in the well.

 From Ina's directions and description, I think these are the stumps from Uncle Alfie’s house.  He and Bibi Ella married on the same day as Ina and Henry, but Uncle Alfie and Bibi Ella remained on Naghir.

Uncle Alfie and Bibi Ella

Aka Masalgi's grave stands like a sentinel in the bush.  It was close to the back door of the family house of which nothing remains apart from a generator and cement footing.  I sat next the grave and thought about Ina’s love for her mother, something she still speaks about.  It made Aka Masalgi’s premature death from a ‘broken heart’ at age 39 leaving nine children, the youngest 2, all the more tragic.  As soon as Tony saw Aka Masalgi’s grave, he bent down and began pulling weeds from the sand.

The remains of the generator where Ina's house once stood.

I think these coconut trees are the same ones in this photo of Uncle Wrench island dancing with the men.  

    

A coconut tree with gouges, possibly footing to enable people to climb to cut down the coconuts.  For want of another way of finding out, I googled the lifespan of coconut trees and it appears they can survive for three generations after reaching maturity.  That would mean these coconut trees may be the same trees from Ina’s time.

Here is a lugger with St Pauls in the background taken in the early 1930s.

This is St Pauls today.

     At times I became emotional thinking this island contains a good part of the history and ancestry of my children and a whole lot of stories that have been lost to time.

     Ina’s family began leaving the island in the fifties to pursue employment opportunities on TI and the mainland such as cutting cane like Uncle Wrench and Aunty Lala’s husband, Uncle Gerry.  Uncle Wrench also spent years working on the railway in Western Australia. 

     During my walks in the hot sun, I often paused to wipe the sweat pouring into my eyes and have a drink.  I thought about Dato Frank sending his twin daughters, Ina and Cessa aged five, to live at the convent on Thursday Island in 1933 so they could get an ‘ed-yoo-cay-shun.’  
     His belief in the value of education and his work ethic must have been so firmly entrenched that the entire family ultimately left to pursue those opportunities.  This is despite Naghir having permanent sources of water, unlike other islands in the Torres Strait, which make it viable in terms of sustaining a community.

     When I was heading back from my first walk, I stopped to chat to Sue and Phil who had just arrived to camp for two nights.  I thanked them for dropping in on New Year’s Day and explained that if they’d run into Tony on their walk, I’d never have thought about asking Tony bring me out to Naghir.

     ‘No worries,’ said Phil.

     I told him I wrote a book about Ina so this visit was very special to me.

     ‘You mean Ina’s Story,’ he said.  ‘That’s sort of why we are here.’

     Sue then produced Ina’s Story, complete with bookmark and asked me to sign it.  What a privilege signing Ina’s Story on Naghir, the writing of which was made possible because Ina shared her story with me, her family and readers.   I just wish Ina could have been with us.