In a section of the poem, titled “Land,” Neidjie writes,
Dreaming place, you can’t change it, no matter who you are. No matter you rich man, no matter you king. You can’t change it.
It reminded me of in Ceremony, when Betonie tells Tayo that despite the current condition of the land and the new white inhabitants, Betonie knows and feels that he belongs and is connected to the land. Whites may think they have obtained the land through money, but Bentonie knows that this land truy belongs to him and his people.
In what ways is Neidije similar or different to Betonie in the beliefs of maintaining cultural identity and belonging in the modern world?
In Neidjie’s poem there is lots of comparison between the way that the white Europeans live and the Aboriginal people. It is interesting to read this directly following Ceremony because in Silko’s book there seemed to be a theme of evolving the segregated ideas of native and settler people and moving forward with an understanding that evolution of thought is vital. Instead, in this poem Neidjie talks about the ways that Aboriginal people are flexible with the tune of nature but also very rigid in their ways. In the section titled “Law,” he writes
Law never change, always stay same. Maybe it hard, but proper one for all people.
Not like white European law, always changing. If you don’t like it, you can change.
Aboriginal law never change. Old people tell us, ‘You got to keep it.’ It always stays.
This section contrasts the evolution of tradition that Betonie was trying to get Tayo to understand.
How do the differences in tone (rigid thinking vs evolving tradition) between Ceremony and this poem create different forms of empowerment for each marginalized group or person?
I really enjoyed the little poem in this story on page number 5. It reflects the deep connection that the Gagudju people have with their land, culture, and ancestry. “I belong to this land” it’s not uncommon for Indigenous people to have strong beliefs that we as people are not separate from nature but a part of it. The land is more than a “resource’ to them. “Soon my bones biome earth…. all the same.” This line also enforces this idea as well having an indication of the cycle of life and death humans come from the earth and shall return in a transient. It’s difficult to have an understanding if Indigenous people should or can get their land back when they do not see land as a sense of ‘ownership’. However, in the line “My children can’t lose it” they also have a fear of cultural loss due to modernity. As in the video (Homeland) back then there was no such thing as ‘state lines’ or countries depending in America or Australia just different tribes.
How does Indigenous law differ from Western legal systems and how might this passage reflect that difference?
Our story is in the land. It is written in those sacred places. My children will look after those places, that’s the law.
The section above comes from the poem titled Land which was one that specifically spoke to me as it often enforced ideas of sharing and knowing. Reminding me of many of the messages prevalent in Ceremony, where Tayo finds a reconnection to land through characters such as Tsh’e “The Mountain” who help his journey of understanding the importance of connection. Thus, the final line of the section chosen being “that’s the law” is truly captivating as it explains how protection should be an inherent ability of people, something passed on and continued. Because the land is precious. For instance, it is written “Tree and eagle, you know eagle?” The simplicity of the poem and straightforward writing style that is prevalent in a majority of the poems I believe begins to explain how simple and straightforward protection of land should be. I’m not sure if this style is intentional however, the direction causes me to ponder, and the simplicity easily comes across as digestible and therefore in many instances – True. Another example being “we want this earth to stay”. Is the intention of Bill Neidjes poems then, to come across as more simplistic to prove the power behind the spoken words? or does the magnitude of his words translate specifically beautiful due to the simplicity?
Gagudju Man and Ceremony share similarities in their themes of belonging to land. In Gagudju Man, this theme is expressed eloquently through the narrator’s death. they describe their death as a return to the Earth. Similarities are drawn between the narrator and a tree. We all get old and die, and are returned to the earth, just like a tree. In Ceremony, Tayo finds a sense of belonging to his land through his encounters with Betonie and Ts’eh. The latter being revealed as an anthropomorphized mountain. The same mountain which Betonie had used as an example of something which white society cannot take from the Pueblo people. What are the similarities and differences in Gagudju Man and Ceremony‘s strategies to express belonging and connection to land? What can they tell us about indigenous theories of belonging in contrast with western conceptions of ownership?
In the poem, Gagudju Man, on the last page, he talks about the responsibility of the reader:
But, now you know this story,
and you’ll be coming to this earth.
You’ll be part of earth when you die.
You responsible now.
You got to go with us.
To earth.
Might be you can hang on.
Hang onto this story.
To this earth.
Both Silko and Bill Neidjie speak of colonization and the horrors that have hit Indigenous peoples. How does Ceremony and Gagudju Man articulate the reader’s responsibility to the earth and to humanity, regardless of ancestry and position?
These series of poems only strengthened my belief that even organizations that on their surface are trying to do good, still are doing harm. Organizations like PeaceCorp and Greenpeace have a quality mission on bettering quality of life elsewhere, but they way it is handled is not appropriate. By coming into another country where you do not know the ecosystem, people, or challenges, and decide that the western way is the solution is not sustainable. The lines, “Rotten tree, you got to burn him. Use him to cook. He’s finished up, cook or roast in coals, White man cook in oven, From university that.” only show that we as westerners do not know the same things we might think we know. We try to convince the world that we have all the answers and the goal of all civilizations should be to recreate the western world. A world were trees are chopped down and discarded, not used for cooking. “First people come to us, they started and run our life … quick. They bring drink. First they should ask about fish, cave, dreaming, but they rush in. They make school. Teach.” We come in with our knowledge and information on how to destroy everything that makes us human and everything that makes the world natural claiming it is progress. Will this harmful way of living ever stop? Or will we keep pushing until we have taken over the whole world and there is no nature left? What people need to be in charge to reverse this hateful mindset we have sealed ourselves to?
One of my absolute favorite poems out of the entire book is the very first poem, the one about Thought Woman alone thinking in her room. I really like how it’s about how she’s thinking of a story in her room. I also like how this poem is about manifestation too. She also thinks about her sisters too. I also really enjoyed the second poem of the book about stories. The second poem of the book talks about how stories aren’t just for entertainment purposes. Stories also serve as the backbone of the community and it is all these people have.
My discussion question is how have stories shaped the people in these communities?
The section of Bill Neidjie’s poem that I chose to bring to discussion is:
“Law never change, always stay same. Maybe it hard, but proper one for all people. Not like white European law, always changing. If you don’t like it, you can change.”
In this passage from Gagudju Man, the speaker contrasts Indigenous law with European law, stating that Indigenous law “never change, always stay same,” while European law is described as “always changing.” Neidjie suggests that while Indigenous law may be difficult, it is the “proper one for all people,” in contrast to European law, which can be altered by those who disagree with it. With this being said, I would like to ask the question: How does this contrast between the stability of Indigenous law and the flexibility of European law reflect the broader tensions between Indigenous and colonial legal systems?
Neidjie states, “I belong to this earth. Soon my bones become earth… all the same.”
This quote can be interpreted as a powerful metaphor between nature and the idea of one’s legacy, especially in indigenous cultures. How does this quote, relating to the rest of the poem, represent the importance of passing down knowledge and the powerful tie between nature and the concept of “passing on” in indigenous cultures?
In the poem Land by Neidjie, he expresses a deep, spiritual connection to the land, emphasizing its sacredness and the reciprocal relationship between nature and Indigenous people. This contrasts sharply with Western perspectives, which often view land as a resource to be owned, controlled, and exploited. Similarly, in Silko’s Ceremony, Tayo’s healing journey revolves around reconnecting with Indigenous traditions and the land, resisting the destruction brought by colonialism and war.
How do both texts illustrate the dichotomy between Western and Indigenous worldviews regarding land? In what ways do Neidjie and Silko depict land not just as a physical space, but as a living entity intertwined with identity, healing, and survival? How do these perspectives challenge Western ideals of ownership, progress, and history?
In reading “Gagudju Man” by Bill Neidjie, it really helped me expand on what I see as a clear theme in “Ceremony”; that being the stark difference between western ways of thinking and indigenous ways. In both passages I see the ideas of navigating a world based on linear intellectual progression rather than a cyclical one that draws on both modern and past knowledge systems. In Ceremony, the book isn’t written in linear fashion and often jumps around in time, this directly compares to Gagudju Man where they talk about the idea of time beyond past, future, and present, instead just existing. This leads me to my question, in what other ways do both passages challenge western thinking? Could it be through the knowledge of land, or maybe communal vs possession based knowledge?
‘No mark in your body. But inside, when you feeling sick, sick in your body. Headache is nothing. But in your body, get very bad sick.’ I ask, ‘Why?’ They say, ‘See that big tree?’ I said ‘Yes, I chop him down that tree. I play, I cut him.’ ‘You cut yourself,’ they say. ‘When you maybe forty years, might be fifty years old, you feel pain in your back, because you cut tree. I’m old man,’ he said, I’m telling you.’
This part of the poem titled death really spoke to me. Metaphorically in the expression of damage being done to one living being hurts all living beings as they are interconnected. More specifically how the degradation and damage we are doing now is like a growing back pain, as you get older it becomes more and more difficult to preform daily tasks. The longer we damage the earth, the more it will show down the line. The effects are building and we are not taking the steps we need to to reduce that pain. We are the ones choosing to work our bodies to pain though, just for it to hurt us later in the effects of what our jobs our doing to the environment second hand. If we are all getting hurt, and causing lifelong back pain, how do we reduce the effects? In relation to the Witches story in Ceremony, are we just cursed with this pain? Is this a story that already has the ending written?
After reading The Words of Bill Neidjie in Gagudju Man, I was struck by the themes of persistence, hope, and wisdom that were threaded throughout Neidjie’s poems. I wanted to focus on these themes as inspiration for my discussion question. Below are three excerpts that reflected Neidjie’s persistent effort to keep his Aboriginal values and culture alive.
“Anyway, got to be made that book. There’s still time. No man can growl at me for telling this story, because it will be too late. I’ll be dead.” (Neidjie, 17).
“We Aborigine, burn. Make things grow. Tree grow. Every night he grow. Daylight he stop. Just about dark, he start again. Just about morning, I look. I say, ‘Oh nice tree this.” (Neidjie, 19).
“I look after my country, now lily coming back. Lily, nuts, birds, fish. Whole lot coming back. We got to look after, cant waste anything. We always used what we got, old people and me.” (Neidjie, 27).
I found Neidjie’s perspective of determination and hope in the face of adversity to be very inspiring. Living in our modern politics landscape often leaves me feeling pretty hopeless. it can feel like there is little action I can take to make a difference. I felt comforted reading these poems and hearing Neidjie’s story. Although his experience with the colonization of his land and people is very different than my exerainces, his message resonates with experiences outside of his own. How does Neidjie’s words and sentiments impart lessons in a global context? Were there any passages that you found particularly uplifting?
Creation stories are a common theme, particularly earlier in the book. This is my favorite poem not because it is particularly pertinent to the plot of the story, I just find it interesting. Since I was a kid I always had a sort of fascination with Indigenous creation stories, ways of living, and general thought about the way the world ought to be. This poem is a simple yet unique, creative, and powerful creation story that I have thought about since I read it. Most religions claim some sort of God created the universe, but they seldom explain how he/she/it created it. I like the simplicity of this creation story, and whether or not Native Americans genuinely believe that Thought-Woman thought the world into existence, I find it amusing and very matter-of-fact in a way that almost makes me want to consider its possibility.
Disclaimer: I have never really been that great about fully understanding the true meaning of poems/poetry unless it is directly stated as opposed to the use of symbolism, thankfully it at least doesn’t appear this will be an issue but if I missed something that is why
Based on the readings, I definitely think that the poems provided by Neidjie are a lot more straight forward and easier to understand than some of the poems in Ceremony that discuss things like thought-woman and spider-woman, however I can tell by reading both there is a clear and deliberate connection in both cultures to both natural forces and nature which kind of leans into my question which is definitely more based on comparison than anything else, but how exactly are writings from two different parts of the globe from completely different cultures so similar in terms of material, like I can understand the natural phenomenon stuff and all that but I guess what I’m getting at is what about these two cultures is so similar that their poems (Aboriginal and Laguna Pueblo) can be so similar in style but yet articulated in a way where one makes sense to me while the other doesn’t.
Ground and rock, he can’t move. Cave, he never move. No-one can shift that cave, because it dream. It story. It law.
Neidjie uses the word dream a lot throughout this series of poems, which I find really interesting. In instance above, he says the cave is dream along with story and law. The latter words also appear frequently in Neidjie’s articulation of his culture, its history, and its inextricable relationship with nature (perhaps as a kind of ‘natural law’). But the word dream in this context (and elsewhere in the text) throws me off because we wouldn’t typically associate that with a concept like law. Does dreaming, for Neidjie and Gagudji culture, invoke a kind of link to the spiritual realm? Or does it take on other meanings?
In this excerpt, it is implied that a more rigid law, though at times frustrating, offers more stability for the entire population. Neidjie’s stance on Western Law argues that the fluidity of our law system, in which rules can be amended, stems from the empowerment and entitlement of certain elites. This allows said elites to bend the rules to their will, often leading to unfair circumstances and disadvantages being placed on periphery populations. Aboriginal Law, though more rigid, prevents this from happening. Overall, the poem suggests pride in the consistency and endurance of Aboriginal law. How does this pride in Indigenous law shape Aboriginal culture?
In a section of his Gagudju Man poem titled “He can’t move his country” Neidjie highlights the oneness of man despite differences in their ethnic background.
“Blood and bone,
all same.
Man can’t split himself.
White European can’t say,
‘Oh, that Aborigine no good.’
Might be that Aborigine alright.
Man can’t growl at Aborigine,
Aborigine can’t growl at white European.
Because both ways.
Might be both good men,
might be both no good.
You never know.
So you should get understand yourself.
No matter Aborigine or white European.”
He highlights the importance of self-discovery and understanding as a means of achieving fulfillment rather than operating under presumptions based on group identities. Both groups have good and bad within them, as they are the same. Analyzing one’s self, and others, as an individual is a crucial part of mutual understanding and connection that can lead to bringing out the best of a collective humanity.
This is reminiscent of Kimmerer’s ideas about learning to appreciate the value of both indigenous and western ways of knowing.
How can both Neidjie and Kimmerer’s ideas help to inform the way in which decolonization is pursued? To what extent have these ideas been utilized by other voices in sustainable development (Sankara, Fanon, Gandhi)?
Man can’t growl at Aborigine, Aborigine can’t growl at white European. Because both ways. Might be both good men, might be both no good. You never know. So you should get understand yourself. No matter Aborigine or white European. (21)
I found that these poems of Bill Neidjie had a lot of similarities to Silko’s Ceremony, and this particular quote reminded me of Tayo’s journey that required him to reconnect with himself and the land. Neidjie has the same understanding that white people or Aboriginal people aren’t inherently good or bad and that self reflection is necessary to get the full picture. Later in the chapter he also says that the elders of their culture have told him that being bad would equate to hurting the earth and not following their laws of give and take, also similar to what the people believe in Ceremony. We’ve discussed how this narrative plays out in Indigenous culture, but I wonder how it might relate to the history of Australia’s colonialism.
What are the differences and similarities of both the American Indigenous and Aboriginal peoples struggles with colonizing? How/why do these native cultures relationship with the land differ so much from Western beliefs?
There are so many points in this book I’d like to talk about. From the theme of oral storytelling and how important it is to pass down stories, to how everyone and everything goes back to the Earth and that is why we must protect it, to the insistence of living by Law and Law not changing. In Bill Neidjie’s book Gagudju Man, he frequently circles back to his point about carrying on the story and the necessity of passing it on so it doesn’t die. I especially liked at the end how the responsibility is then passed on to the reader when he writes: “But, now you know this story, and you’ll be coming to earth. You’ll be part of earth when you die. You responsible now. You got to go with us. To earth. Might be you can hang on. Hang onto this story. To this earth.” After I finished reading this collection of stories, I sat and thought for a bit about what it meant for me now after I had read this. I then told my friends about it and even sent it to a few of them. And I think of how our whole class has now read this and become responsible for the stories. Everything gets passed down from generation to generation, and those who are told must hold on to it. It reminds me of a quote I’ve read: “It only takes one desperate generation to change history—even erase it.” When we lose our history, past, and stories, we lose our values. When we forget we are one with the Earth and that is where we will return after our short time here, then we no longer care for our Earth. We have to remember that we are caring for ourselves when we care for the Earth, we are caring for our lost loved ones and everyone to come in the future. I especially liked the part, “Hang on to this story; to this earth.” When we lose our stories, we lose ourselves. So many have lost their stories. There are so many contradictions in the ending of this book, and in the book in its entirety, to Western culture.
How does being a part of the earth when you die contrast with Western ideas of death, religion, and the afterlife? How does the dynamic nature of passing on stories and the tradition of oral storytelling compare to how Law is described as constant and unchanging?
Both Ceremony and Bill Neidjie’s book Gagudju Man, are both about storytelling, and the ways that knowledge is passed through generations. Both stories focus on the differences between Eurocentric perspectives rooted in linear histories, and individualism and that of indigenous/aboriginal ways of knowing, which emphasize oral traditions, interconnectedness, and a deep connection with the land. The opening poem in Gagudju man is one that stands out to me me the most:
“I give you this story, this proper, true story. People can listen. I’m telling this while you’ve got time, time for you to make something, you know, history book.”
Neidjie’s words ask us to think of the different ways of understanding history. by calling it a ‘proper, true” story he emphazises that listening is not an act of passive consumption. What does he mean by a “proper, true story”? What makes a proper, true story? How does it contrast to Western ideas of history?
My spirit has gone back to my country … my mother.
Now my children got to hang onto this story …
I hang onto this story all my life.
My children can’t lose it.
This law,
This country,
This people,
All the same …
Gagudju.”
In the Post Script poem by Neidjie, he talks about his connection to his planet, the earth itself. He is tied to the land and has a deep connection to his roots. This reminds me of how Betonie was in Ceremony. Neidjie emphasizes the importance of Native practices and finding solace in one’s ancestry when faced with imposing outside forces. Indigenous ideologies are very rooted in honoring the earth itself, and overall, modern society has dismissed this way of thinking. How do Neidjie’s poems reflect other ideologies seen in Ceremony? How can this idea of following Indigenous practices be seen throughout the world and our society, and what are the challenges faced by those who follow that?
On page 43 of Gagudju Man, Bill Neidjie’s poem reads:
Water is your blood.
Water,
you can’t go without water.
No matter no food two days,
three day, four day,
if you got water.
If no water,
little bit weak,
getting hard.
Water important.
That’s why we get story.
Old people tell us about that first lightning.
That’s before wet season.
We can’t look at it.
Later we get lightning and rain from other way.
But, must not look at first lightning,
bend head down
like first woman who looked.
She was ashamed and bent her head.
We must do the same.
Sky,
cloud.
Made for us.
Star,
he’ll stay for ever and ever.
Initially, this poem places emphasis on the role of water in aboriginal and indigenous ways of being. Gradually, we come to understand that storytelling is also a central part of these ways of being, as indicated in other materials such as Ceremony and Ten Canoes. In Ten Canoes, the plot is centered around a days-long story told on a geese hunting trip to a young Australian aboriginal man, teaching him the correct ways of living after he is believed to be lusting for his brother’s wife. The film, like Neidjie’s poem, immediately asserts the centrality of water in aboriginal livelihoods, as the setting is the swamp where the hunting occurs. Shortly into the film, the role of storytelling comes into scope, which alone will serve Dayindi in many ways, teaching him how to appropriately navigate many aspects of life. Neidjie’s poem concludes with situating aboriginal people as part of nature, rather than separate from, and relating water and storytelling back to the greater environment. This poem struck me because of the way it articulates how aboriginal and indigenous cultures view various aspects of life as interconnected, entailing a more holistic means of living.
What are some other scenes from the film or poems from Neidjie’s work that peek into this interconnectedness? What lessons do they teach?
The section of Neidjie’s poem titled Land spoke to me because I believe there are significant parallels between the poem and today’s political world. In today’s society, politics are not driven by the people; they are driven by large pocketfuls of money. Billionaires are running the country and promising to help the people, but would a billionaire help the people if they were losing money? In politics, love for people is conditional, while love for money is ever-growing. When someone without a penny to their name requests a simple piece of bread, they are often turned away. In stark contrast, a billionaire asking for that same piece of bread is likely to receive ten loaves, all in hopes that their wealth will benefit the merchant. I believe Neidjie’s poem recognizes this in the indigenous community by stating that wealth in the form of money is not wealth at all, because it cannot be spent in the afterlife.
“People.
they can’t listen for us.
They just listen for money.
Money.
We want goose, we want fish.
Other men want money.
Him can make million dollars,
but only last one year.
Next year him want another million.
Forever and ever him make million dollars.
Him die.”
Neidjie’s poem represents greed for money, and instead of wanting more, we should ask for the things in life that truly sustain us: love, happiness, freedom, and the beauty of nature itself. These things are frequently overlooked in the pursuit of wealth, which does more harm than good when you have money but no one to spend it with.
What actions can communities and individuals take to put principles like freedom, happiness, love, and a connection to nature ahead of the obsession with gaining masses of wealth?
Bill Neidjie’s poem portrays his strong connection to the land, cultural history, and his want to pass along traditional wisdom and stories to future generations. Gagudju Man is a powerful statement of Indigenous identity, environmental importance, and the Gagudju people’s spiritual connection to their ancestral land. Neidjie uses language and storytelling to express themes of loss, survival, the need for cultural preservation, and inherent unity.
“Language is different,
like skin.
Skin can be different,
but blood same.
Blood and bone,
all same.
Man can’t split himself.”
How does Neidjie’s simple language speak to the common humanity that is shared in all of us despite external differences?
“Now you’ve seen my story. It’s a good story. Not like your story, but a good story all the same.” (Ten Canoes)
White European want to know asking ‘What this story?’ This not easy story. No-one else can tell it because this story for Aboriginal culture.
I speak English for you, so you can listen, so you can know, you will understand. If I put my language in same place, you won’t understand.
Our story is in the land. It is written in those sacred places. My children will look after those places, that’s the law.
Bill Neidjie, Land
Both of these works share Aboriginal stories in English, but in ways that make outsiders, particularly white Europeans, look through the lens of their ways of knowing. In Ten Canoes, all of the dialogue is in indigenous Aboriginal language and in Bill Neidjie’s poems he employs a different sentence structure that puts yams and trees and you and I on a level playing field. The fact that nature is so integral to the stories and the language is another way the stories can be portrayed to outside cultures without losing their original shape.
There are throughlines and timeless lessons from the story in ten canoes even though circumstances and relation to the land may have changed through generations. How does the structure of the film and its playfulness with patience and storytelling that bounces around 3 distinct timelines complement the idea of eternal law derived from the land that Neidjie discusses?
All that’s left to say is, some get Birrinbirrin some honey!!
Tree might be sick, you feel it. You might feel it for two or three years. You get weak, little bit, little bit. Because tree going bit by bit. Dying. Tree not die when you cut it. He not die tomorrow, he still green. Might be five or six weeks, might be two months. You feel it then. Your body. You feel it.
this seems to be the vibes in all of his poetry, writings, and the cultural heritage he is a part of. He spoke on the land being part of them and them a part of the land, the water is their blood, the animals their brothers. Part of my history is going to a private christian school, and my first thought was Jesus saying this bread is my body and the wine my blood. this faith some have in Jesus is the same as this culture having faith in their land. That connection, that love, that empathy one is more likely to hold when you have a reason to be connected, but through the land and Jesus connections can span much further. I also never thought about how long it really does take for a tree to die, even the stump tries to regrow, a stable form of consciousness that tries to be alive no matter the circumstances. we can learn different lessons from all different physical representations we see around us.
so my question is what is something you are connected to within your own life that has some lesson to teach you, whether that be a friend, a banged up car, a crushed bottle, or a tree that you sit under?
Over the winter break of 2024–25, I traveled to Australia, visiting Perth, Dunsborough, and Sydney, along with several surrounding areas. Sydney’s climate and environment reminded me a lot of my hometown, Charlotte, North Carolina—but despite the similar weather, the flora and fauna were completely different and fascinating. While in Sydney, I visited the Aboriginal Museum, which was an intense and eye-opening experience. I remember taking a photo of the AIATSIS Map of Indigenous Australia, the same map Anatoli referenced in Thursday’s lecture. Seeing it in person was jaw-dropping. But that sense of awe quickly faded as I began to reflect on the history it represents—centuries of displacement, exploitation, and the deep impact of Western colonization. At the same time, it’s important to recognize that most cultures across the globe, throughout history, have been shaped—whether forcibly or subtly—by external forces.
Every poem by Bill Neidjie resonates deeply with the spirit of Indigenous Australia. His work is infused with Aboriginal vocabulary and dialect, capturing the essence of Aboriginal life with powerful simplicity. Each page and stanza offers a vivid glimpse into the everyday struggles, resilience, and profound connection to land and culture. Of all his poems, Death stands out as my favorite because it’s beautiful and filled with a quiet strength that lingers long after reading.
The poem Death is rich with symbolism, weaving together deep connections to the land, sky, and cosmos with spiritual beliefs and cultural values. What first drew me in was its opening pages dedicated to space, a subject that has always fascinated me. From the very beginning, the poem emphasizes the importance of passing down knowledge and wisdom across generations. This storytelling reveals an unbreakable bond between people, the earth, and the universe. The theme of death is not an ending, but a return to Mother Earth. A powerful line on page 48, stanza 3, captures this beautifully: the moon “[will die and come back, like the moon does each night].” The poem offers a sense of peace, gently reminding us of the cyclical nature of life. It’s a soothing, soulful read that stays with you.
New grass coming up.This poem by Bill Neidjie, titled Rotten Tree, reflects on the Aboriginal relationship with nature and fire. The speaker contrasts traditional Aboriginal methods of using fire to clean and renew the land with European practices, highlighting how the land is treated with respect and care. The “rotten tree” is burned to make way for new growth, symbolizing regeneration and renewal. The poem emphasizes the importance of looking after the earth and using fire not for destruction but as a tool for environmental care, suggesting a deep, respectful connection to the land.
In the book, Gagudju Man by Bill Neidjie, the section that most caught my attention was Land, it focuses more on the natural connection between the aboriginal people and their territory while comparing it to the monetary value that others prioritize. This collection of poems reflects truths that are still prevalent today. Neidjie comments on the connection between past values that are rooted in nature and living with the land while, modern society, is driven by money and power. He reminds us that true wealth does not come from money but that love, liberty, and happiness sustains our wealth of life. These poems remind us that money is not as important as our happiness, land, and life and that greed can be destructive and should remain in check.
In this modern era, how can communities and individuals alike shift their capitalistic values to prioritize values like compassion and a connection to the environment?
While reading Gagudju Man by Bill Neidji, they allowed me to further my understanding of the key theme in Ceremony and the stark differences between Western and Indigenous worldviews. Both of these works challenge the very dominant Western mindset, more specific in how they frame knowledge, time, and connections to the world. One example of this is the contrasts left between linear and cyclical time. In our reading of Ceremony, the non-linear narrative allows the reflection of worldviews and where time isn’t a straight line but rather a more fluid idea, continuously changing past, present, and future. Similar in Gagudju Man time is depicted as something that simply is not needing anything to exist. This is a shared perspective that allows us to call into question the limitations of Western progress and history. Questions that could be asked here are such: In what other ways do these texts resist Western frameworks? Might it be through the way knowledge is tied to land, or how it is shared—communal rather than owned?
“Law never change, always stay same. Maybe it hard, but proper one for all people. Not like white European law, always changing. If you don’t like it, you can change.”
This poem compares and contrasts the indigenous law system and white European law systems. It highlights the fact that indigenous laws never change, while European laws change all of the time. Why might deep moral ties with nature affect the structure and longevity of indigenous laws? How does the absence of these ties create an everchanging law system in many European societies? Why is there such an absence in European communities?
This quote stuck out to me because I feel as though it is of increasing importance. When Bill Neidjie mentions country, I believe he is relating the term to indigenous cultures who are not only born of the land, but it is their home and a part of them. Although people come from different areas, we are united in our diversity. You can not separate yourself from a part of who you are. I find this quote appealing because it explains that there is a certain unity in all of us, and the richness of the cultures we are surrounded by should be celebrated and not cause separation or marginalization based on the color of one’s skin or the languages they speak.
How does Neidjies’ quote, “Man can’t split himself,” challenge current ideas of assimilation in a world that is only modernizing?
One passage from Neidjie’s poem, “You’ll be part of earth when you die.
You responsible now.”, was very powerful to me. I find one of the major issues with the climate crisis to be a sense of apathy towards future generations, or even one’s own life. It is easy to think that if you will die before a catastrophic world ending event, it is not your problem. Neidjie’s work challenges this notion of indifference by offering the idea that our beings will always be part of the earth in physicality, even after death, and calls on us to claim responsibility for our own actions in addition to our shared land. In what ways can we use this notion of responsibility to educate future generations, and inspire passion for environmental protection?
For my discussion response I will be focusing on the following poem:
I don’t know about white European way. We, Aborigine, burn. Make things grow. Tree grow, every night he grow. Daylight he stop. Just about dark, he start again. Just about morning, I look. I say, ‘Oh, nice tree this.’ When you sleep, tree growing like other trees, they got lots of blood. Rotten tree, you got to burn him. Use him to cook. He’s finished up, cook or roast in coals, White man cook in oven, From university that. Aborigine didn’t know that before. Now all this coming up with Toyota.
Bill Neidjie’s poems offer a lense into Aboriginal ecological knowledge and the contrast between Indigenous and European ways of understanding the natural world. Growth is observed in feeling, rhythm, and connection. Neidjie states,”every night he grow,” depicting how as the trees and nature continue to live and breathe the same as us as we sleep. There is an understanding that trees have “lots of blood,” a sign of life and vitality, which contrasts sharply with the way colonial and Western systems often treat the environment as lifeless or purely utilitarian.
Neidjie also critiques the shift toward European tools and practices, “white man cook in oven/ From university that”, not necessarily with resentment, but with a quiet observation of change and loss. The arrival of modern tools like Toyotas and University knowledge depicts a transformation un lifestyle, but also implies disconnection from traditional ways. There’s a subtle mounting here, a recognition that something essential is being displaced by technology and colonial systems. Yet, there is also wisdom in adaptation and resilience.
What does the poem suggest about the relationship between tradition and modernity, especially in the context of indigenous identity?
SD 3800 Voices in Sustainable Development 
In a section of the poem, titled “Land,” Neidjie writes,
Dreaming place,
you can’t change it,
no matter who you are.
No matter you rich man,
no matter you king.
You can’t change it.
It reminded me of in Ceremony, when Betonie tells Tayo that despite the current condition of the land and the new white inhabitants, Betonie knows and feels that he belongs and is connected to the land. Whites may think they have obtained the land through money, but Bentonie knows that this land truy belongs to him and his people.
In what ways is Neidije similar or different to Betonie in the beliefs of maintaining cultural identity and belonging in the modern world?
abbey smith
In Neidjie’s poem there is lots of comparison between the way that the white Europeans live and the Aboriginal people. It is interesting to read this directly following Ceremony because in Silko’s book there seemed to be a theme of evolving the segregated ideas of native and settler people and moving forward with an understanding that evolution of thought is vital. Instead, in this poem Neidjie talks about the ways that Aboriginal people are flexible with the tune of nature but also very rigid in their ways. In the section titled “Law,” he writes
Law never change,
always stay same.
Maybe it hard,
but proper one for all people.
Not like white European law,
always changing.
If you don’t like it,
you can change.
Aboriginal law never change.
Old people tell us,
‘You got to keep it.’
It always stays.
This section contrasts the evolution of tradition that Betonie was trying to get Tayo to understand.
How do the differences in tone (rigid thinking vs evolving tradition) between Ceremony and this poem create different forms of empowerment for each marginalized group or person?
Posey Lester-Niles
I really enjoyed the little poem in this story on page number 5. It reflects the deep connection that the Gagudju people have with their land, culture, and ancestry. “I belong to this land” it’s not uncommon for Indigenous people to have strong beliefs that we as people are not separate from nature but a part of it. The land is more than a “resource’ to them. “Soon my bones biome earth…. all the same.” This line also enforces this idea as well having an indication of the cycle of life and death humans come from the earth and shall return in a transient. It’s difficult to have an understanding if Indigenous people should or can get their land back when they do not see land as a sense of ‘ownership’. However, in the line “My children can’t lose it” they also have a fear of cultural loss due to modernity. As in the video (Homeland) back then there was no such thing as ‘state lines’ or countries depending in America or Australia just different tribes.
How does Indigenous law differ from Western legal systems and how might this passage reflect that difference?
-Kye Harris
Our story is in the land.
It is written in those sacred places.
My children will look after those places,
that’s the law.
The section above comes from the poem titled Land which was one that specifically spoke to me as it often enforced ideas of sharing and knowing. Reminding me of many of the messages prevalent in Ceremony, where Tayo finds a reconnection to land through characters such as Tsh’e “The Mountain” who help his journey of understanding the importance of connection. Thus, the final line of the section chosen being “that’s the law” is truly captivating as it explains how protection should be an inherent ability of people, something passed on and continued. Because the land is precious. For instance, it is written “Tree and eagle, you know eagle?” The simplicity of the poem and straightforward writing style that is prevalent in a majority of the poems I believe begins to explain how simple and straightforward protection of land should be. I’m not sure if this style is intentional however, the direction causes me to ponder, and the simplicity easily comes across as digestible and therefore in many instances – True. Another example being “we want this earth to stay”. Is the intention of Bill Neidjes poems then, to come across as more simplistic to prove the power behind the spoken words? or does the magnitude of his words translate specifically beautiful due to the simplicity?
Gagudju Man and Ceremony share similarities in their themes of belonging to land. In Gagudju Man, this theme is expressed eloquently through the narrator’s death. they describe their death as a return to the Earth. Similarities are drawn between the narrator and a tree. We all get old and die, and are returned to the earth, just like a tree. In Ceremony, Tayo finds a sense of belonging to his land through his encounters with Betonie and Ts’eh. The latter being revealed as an anthropomorphized mountain. The same mountain which Betonie had used as an example of something which white society cannot take from the Pueblo people. What are the similarities and differences in Gagudju Man and Ceremony‘s strategies to express belonging and connection to land? What can they tell us about indigenous theories of belonging in contrast with western conceptions of ownership?
John Turner
In the poem, Gagudju Man, on the last page, he talks about the responsibility of the reader:
But, now you know this story,
and you’ll be coming to this earth.
You’ll be part of earth when you die.
You responsible now.
You got to go with us.
To earth.
Might be you can hang on.
Hang onto this story.
To this earth.
Both Silko and Bill Neidjie speak of colonization and the horrors that have hit Indigenous peoples. How does Ceremony and Gagudju Man articulate the reader’s responsibility to the earth and to humanity, regardless of ancestry and position?
-Iona Blackburn
These series of poems only strengthened my belief that even organizations that on their surface are trying to do good, still are doing harm. Organizations like PeaceCorp and Greenpeace have a quality mission on bettering quality of life elsewhere, but they way it is handled is not appropriate. By coming into another country where you do not know the ecosystem, people, or challenges, and decide that the western way is the solution is not sustainable. The lines, “Rotten tree, you got to burn him. Use him to cook. He’s finished up, cook or roast in coals, White man cook in oven, From university that.” only show that we as westerners do not know the same things we might think we know. We try to convince the world that we have all the answers and the goal of all civilizations should be to recreate the western world. A world were trees are chopped down and discarded, not used for cooking. “First people come to us, they started and run our life … quick. They bring drink. First they should ask about fish, cave, dreaming, but they rush in. They make school. Teach.” We come in with our knowledge and information on how to destroy everything that makes us human and everything that makes the world natural claiming it is progress. Will this harmful way of living ever stop? Or will we keep pushing until we have taken over the whole world and there is no nature left? What people need to be in charge to reverse this hateful mindset we have sealed ourselves to?
Parker Williamson
Ciara Gurganus
One of my absolute favorite poems out of the entire book is the very first poem, the one about Thought Woman alone thinking in her room. I really like how it’s about how she’s thinking of a story in her room. I also like how this poem is about manifestation too. She also thinks about her sisters too. I also really enjoyed the second poem of the book about stories. The second poem of the book talks about how stories aren’t just for entertainment purposes. Stories also serve as the backbone of the community and it is all these people have.
My discussion question is how have stories shaped the people in these communities?
The section of Bill Neidjie’s poem that I chose to bring to discussion is:
“Law never change,
always stay same.
Maybe it hard,
but proper one for all people.
Not like white European law,
always changing.
If you don’t like it,
you can change.”
In this passage from Gagudju Man, the speaker contrasts Indigenous law with European law, stating that Indigenous law “never change, always stay same,” while European law is described as “always changing.” Neidjie suggests that while Indigenous law may be difficult, it is the “proper one for all people,” in contrast to European law, which can be altered by those who disagree with it. With this being said, I would like to ask the question: How does this contrast between the stability of Indigenous law and the flexibility of European law reflect the broader tensions between Indigenous and colonial legal systems?
Neidjie states, “I belong to this earth. Soon my bones become earth… all the same.”
This quote can be interpreted as a powerful metaphor between nature and the idea of one’s legacy, especially in indigenous cultures. How does this quote, relating to the rest of the poem, represent the importance of passing down knowledge and the powerful tie between nature and the concept of “passing on” in indigenous cultures?
In the poem Land by Neidjie, he expresses a deep, spiritual connection to the land, emphasizing its sacredness and the reciprocal relationship between nature and Indigenous people. This contrasts sharply with Western perspectives, which often view land as a resource to be owned, controlled, and exploited. Similarly, in Silko’s Ceremony, Tayo’s healing journey revolves around reconnecting with Indigenous traditions and the land, resisting the destruction brought by colonialism and war.
How do both texts illustrate the dichotomy between Western and Indigenous worldviews regarding land? In what ways do Neidjie and Silko depict land not just as a physical space, but as a living entity intertwined with identity, healing, and survival? How do these perspectives challenge Western ideals of ownership, progress, and history?
-Kendall Williamson
In reading “Gagudju Man” by Bill Neidjie, it really helped me expand on what I see as a clear theme in “Ceremony”; that being the stark difference between western ways of thinking and indigenous ways. In both passages I see the ideas of navigating a world based on linear intellectual progression rather than a cyclical one that draws on both modern and past knowledge systems. In Ceremony, the book isn’t written in linear fashion and often jumps around in time, this directly compares to Gagudju Man where they talk about the idea of time beyond past, future, and present, instead just existing. This leads me to my question, in what other ways do both passages challenge western thinking? Could it be through the knowledge of land, or maybe communal vs possession based knowledge?
-Tyler Nece
‘No mark in your body.
But inside,
when you feeling sick,
sick in your body.
Headache is nothing.
But in your body,
get very bad sick.’
I ask, ‘Why?’
They say,
‘See that big tree?’
I said
‘Yes, I chop him down that tree.
I play,
I cut him.’
‘You cut yourself,’ they say.
‘When you maybe forty years,
might be fifty years old,
you feel pain in your back,
because you cut tree.
I’m old man,’ he said,
I’m telling you.’
This part of the poem titled death really spoke to me. Metaphorically in the expression of damage being done to one living being hurts all living beings as they are interconnected. More specifically how the degradation and damage we are doing now is like a growing back pain, as you get older it becomes more and more difficult to preform daily tasks. The longer we damage the earth, the more it will show down the line. The effects are building and we are not taking the steps we need to to reduce that pain. We are the ones choosing to work our bodies to pain though, just for it to hurt us later in the effects of what our jobs our doing to the environment second hand. If we are all getting hurt, and causing lifelong back pain, how do we reduce the effects? In relation to the Witches story in Ceremony, are we just cursed with this pain? Is this a story that already has the ending written?
After reading The Words of Bill Neidjie in Gagudju Man, I was struck by the themes of persistence, hope, and wisdom that were threaded throughout Neidjie’s poems. I wanted to focus on these themes as inspiration for my discussion question. Below are three excerpts that reflected Neidjie’s persistent effort to keep his Aboriginal values and culture alive.
“Anyway, got to be made that book. There’s still time. No man can growl at me for telling this story, because it will be too late. I’ll be dead.” (Neidjie, 17).
“We Aborigine, burn. Make things grow. Tree grow. Every night he grow. Daylight he stop. Just about dark, he start again. Just about morning, I look. I say, ‘Oh nice tree this.” (Neidjie, 19).
“I look after my country, now lily coming back. Lily, nuts, birds, fish. Whole lot coming back. We got to look after, cant waste anything. We always used what we got, old people and me.” (Neidjie, 27).
I found Neidjie’s perspective of determination and hope in the face of adversity to be very inspiring. Living in our modern politics landscape often leaves me feeling pretty hopeless. it can feel like there is little action I can take to make a difference. I felt comforted reading these poems and hearing Neidjie’s story. Although his experience with the colonization of his land and people is very different than my exerainces, his message resonates with experiences outside of his own. How does Neidjie’s words and sentiments impart lessons in a global context? Were there any passages that you found particularly uplifting?
Clara NeSmith
Ts’its’tsi’nako, Thought-Woman,
is sitting in her room
and whatever she thinks about appears
She thought of her sisters,
Nau’ts’ity’i and I’tcts’ity’i,
and together they created the world.
Creation stories are a common theme, particularly earlier in the book. This is my favorite poem not because it is particularly pertinent to the plot of the story, I just find it interesting. Since I was a kid I always had a sort of fascination with Indigenous creation stories, ways of living, and general thought about the way the world ought to be. This poem is a simple yet unique, creative, and powerful creation story that I have thought about since I read it. Most religions claim some sort of God created the universe, but they seldom explain how he/she/it created it. I like the simplicity of this creation story, and whether or not Native Americans genuinely believe that Thought-Woman thought the world into existence, I find it amusing and very matter-of-fact in a way that almost makes me want to consider its possibility.
Disclaimer: I have never really been that great about fully understanding the true meaning of poems/poetry unless it is directly stated as opposed to the use of symbolism, thankfully it at least doesn’t appear this will be an issue but if I missed something that is why
Based on the readings, I definitely think that the poems provided by Neidjie are a lot more straight forward and easier to understand than some of the poems in Ceremony that discuss things like thought-woman and spider-woman, however I can tell by reading both there is a clear and deliberate connection in both cultures to both natural forces and nature which kind of leans into my question which is definitely more based on comparison than anything else, but how exactly are writings from two different parts of the globe from completely different cultures so similar in terms of material, like I can understand the natural phenomenon stuff and all that but I guess what I’m getting at is what about these two cultures is so similar that their poems (Aboriginal and Laguna Pueblo) can be so similar in style but yet articulated in a way where one makes sense to me while the other doesn’t.
-Connor Kuharcik
Ground and rock,
he can’t move.
Cave,
he never move.
No-one can shift that cave,
because it dream.
It story.
It law.
Neidjie uses the word dream a lot throughout this series of poems, which I find really interesting. In instance above, he says the cave is dream along with story and law. The latter words also appear frequently in Neidjie’s articulation of his culture, its history, and its inextricable relationship with nature (perhaps as a kind of ‘natural law’). But the word dream in this context (and elsewhere in the text) throws me off because we wouldn’t typically associate that with a concept like law. Does dreaming, for Neidjie and Gagudji culture, invoke a kind of link to the spiritual realm? Or does it take on other meanings?
-Jack Ely
An excerpt from Law by Bill Neidjie states,
“Law never change,
always stay same.
Maybe it hard,
but proper one for all people.
Not like white European law,
always changing.
If you don’t like it,
you can change.
Aboriginal law never changes.
Old people tell us,
‘You got to keep it.’
It always stays.”
In this excerpt, it is implied that a more rigid law, though at times frustrating, offers more stability for the entire population. Neidjie’s stance on Western Law argues that the fluidity of our law system, in which rules can be amended, stems from the empowerment and entitlement of certain elites. This allows said elites to bend the rules to their will, often leading to unfair circumstances and disadvantages being placed on periphery populations. Aboriginal Law, though more rigid, prevents this from happening. Overall, the poem suggests pride in the consistency and endurance of Aboriginal law. How does this pride in Indigenous law shape Aboriginal culture?
-Sofie Crump
In a section of his Gagudju Man poem titled “He can’t move his country” Neidjie highlights the oneness of man despite differences in their ethnic background.
“Blood and bone,
all same.
Man can’t split himself.
White European can’t say,
‘Oh, that Aborigine no good.’
Might be that Aborigine alright.
Man can’t growl at Aborigine,
Aborigine can’t growl at white European.
Because both ways.
Might be both good men,
might be both no good.
You never know.
So you should get understand yourself.
No matter Aborigine or white European.”
He highlights the importance of self-discovery and understanding as a means of achieving fulfillment rather than operating under presumptions based on group identities. Both groups have good and bad within them, as they are the same. Analyzing one’s self, and others, as an individual is a crucial part of mutual understanding and connection that can lead to bringing out the best of a collective humanity.
This is reminiscent of Kimmerer’s ideas about learning to appreciate the value of both indigenous and western ways of knowing.
How can both Neidjie and Kimmerer’s ideas help to inform the way in which decolonization is pursued? To what extent have these ideas been utilized by other voices in sustainable development (Sankara, Fanon, Gandhi)?
-Max L.
Man can’t growl at Aborigine,
Aborigine can’t growl at white European.
Because both ways.
Might be both good men,
might be both no good.
You never know.
So you should get understand yourself.
No matter Aborigine or white European. (21)
I found that these poems of Bill Neidjie had a lot of similarities to Silko’s Ceremony, and this particular quote reminded me of Tayo’s journey that required him to reconnect with himself and the land. Neidjie has the same understanding that white people or Aboriginal people aren’t inherently good or bad and that self reflection is necessary to get the full picture. Later in the chapter he also says that the elders of their culture have told him that being bad would equate to hurting the earth and not following their laws of give and take, also similar to what the people believe in Ceremony. We’ve discussed how this narrative plays out in Indigenous culture, but I wonder how it might relate to the history of Australia’s colonialism.
What are the differences and similarities of both the American Indigenous and Aboriginal peoples struggles with colonizing? How/why do these native cultures relationship with the land differ so much from Western beliefs?
Ella Holmes
There are so many points in this book I’d like to talk about. From the theme of oral storytelling and how important it is to pass down stories, to how everyone and everything goes back to the Earth and that is why we must protect it, to the insistence of living by Law and Law not changing. In Bill Neidjie’s book Gagudju Man, he frequently circles back to his point about carrying on the story and the necessity of passing it on so it doesn’t die. I especially liked at the end how the responsibility is then passed on to the reader when he writes:
“But, now you know this story,
and you’ll be coming to earth.
You’ll be part of earth when you die.
You responsible now.
You got to go with us.
To earth.
Might be you can hang on.
Hang onto this story.
To this earth.”
After I finished reading this collection of stories, I sat and thought for a bit about what it meant for me now after I had read this. I then told my friends about it and even sent it to a few of them. And I think of how our whole class has now read this and become responsible for the stories. Everything gets passed down from generation to generation, and those who are told must hold on to it. It reminds me of a quote I’ve read: “It only takes one desperate generation to change history—even erase it.” When we lose our history, past, and stories, we lose our values. When we forget we are one with the Earth and that is where we will return after our short time here, then we no longer care for our Earth. We have to remember that we are caring for ourselves when we care for the Earth, we are caring for our lost loved ones and everyone to come in the future. I especially liked the part, “Hang on to this story; to this earth.” When we lose our stories, we lose ourselves. So many have lost their stories. There are so many contradictions in the ending of this book, and in the book in its entirety, to Western culture.
How does being a part of the earth when you die contrast with Western ideas of death, religion, and the afterlife? How does the dynamic nature of passing on stories and the tradition of oral storytelling compare to how Law is described as constant and unchanging?
Both Ceremony and Bill Neidjie’s book Gagudju Man, are both about storytelling, and the ways that knowledge is passed through generations. Both stories focus on the differences between Eurocentric perspectives rooted in linear histories, and individualism and that of indigenous/aboriginal ways of knowing, which emphasize oral traditions, interconnectedness, and a deep connection with the land. The opening poem in Gagudju man is one that stands out to me me the most:
“I give you this story,
this proper, true story.
People can listen.
I’m telling this while you’ve got time,
time for you to make something,
you know,
history
book.”
Neidjie’s words ask us to think of the different ways of understanding history. by calling it a ‘proper, true” story he emphazises that listening is not an act of passive consumption. What does he mean by a “proper, true story”? What makes a proper, true story? How does it contrast to Western ideas of history?
-Kendall Nerenberg
“I belong to this earth.
Soon my bones become earth … all the same.
My spirit has gone back to my country … my mother.
Now my children got to hang onto this story …
I hang onto this story all my life.
My children can’t lose it.
This law,
This country,
This people,
All the same …
Gagudju.”
In the Post Script poem by Neidjie, he talks about his connection to his planet, the earth itself. He is tied to the land and has a deep connection to his roots. This reminds me of how Betonie was in Ceremony. Neidjie emphasizes the importance of Native practices and finding solace in one’s ancestry when faced with imposing outside forces. Indigenous ideologies are very rooted in honoring the earth itself, and overall, modern society has dismissed this way of thinking. How do Neidjie’s poems reflect other ideologies seen in Ceremony? How can this idea of following Indigenous practices be seen throughout the world and our society, and what are the challenges faced by those who follow that?
caroline laschinger
On page 43 of Gagudju Man, Bill Neidjie’s poem reads:
Water is your blood.
Water,
you can’t go without water.
No matter no food two days,
three day, four day,
if you got water.
If no water,
little bit weak,
getting hard.
Water important.
That’s why we get story.
Old people tell us about that first lightning.
That’s before wet season.
We can’t look at it.
Later we get lightning and rain from other way.
But, must not look at first lightning,
bend head down
like first woman who looked.
She was ashamed and bent her head.
We must do the same.
Sky,
cloud.
Made for us.
Star,
he’ll stay for ever and ever.
Initially, this poem places emphasis on the role of water in aboriginal and indigenous ways of being. Gradually, we come to understand that storytelling is also a central part of these ways of being, as indicated in other materials such as Ceremony and Ten Canoes. In Ten Canoes, the plot is centered around a days-long story told on a geese hunting trip to a young Australian aboriginal man, teaching him the correct ways of living after he is believed to be lusting for his brother’s wife. The film, like Neidjie’s poem, immediately asserts the centrality of water in aboriginal livelihoods, as the setting is the swamp where the hunting occurs. Shortly into the film, the role of storytelling comes into scope, which alone will serve Dayindi in many ways, teaching him how to appropriately navigate many aspects of life. Neidjie’s poem concludes with situating aboriginal people as part of nature, rather than separate from, and relating water and storytelling back to the greater environment. This poem struck me because of the way it articulates how aboriginal and indigenous cultures view various aspects of life as interconnected, entailing a more holistic means of living.
What are some other scenes from the film or poems from Neidjie’s work that peek into this interconnectedness? What lessons do they teach?
Carson Mease
The section of Neidjie’s poem titled Land spoke to me because I believe there are significant parallels between the poem and today’s political world. In today’s society, politics are not driven by the people; they are driven by large pocketfuls of money. Billionaires are running the country and promising to help the people, but would a billionaire help the people if they were losing money? In politics, love for people is conditional, while love for money is ever-growing. When someone without a penny to their name requests a simple piece of bread, they are often turned away. In stark contrast, a billionaire asking for that same piece of bread is likely to receive ten loaves, all in hopes that their wealth will benefit the merchant. I believe Neidjie’s poem recognizes this in the indigenous community by stating that wealth in the form of money is not wealth at all, because it cannot be spent in the afterlife.
“People.
they can’t listen for us.
They just listen for money.
Money.
We want goose, we want fish.
Other men want money.
Him can make million dollars,
but only last one year.
Next year him want another million.
Forever and ever him make million dollars.
Him die.”
Neidjie’s poem represents greed for money, and instead of wanting more, we should ask for the things in life that truly sustain us: love, happiness, freedom, and the beauty of nature itself. These things are frequently overlooked in the pursuit of wealth, which does more harm than good when you have money but no one to spend it with.
What actions can communities and individuals take to put principles like freedom, happiness, love, and a connection to nature ahead of the obsession with gaining masses of wealth?
Aura Cochran
Bill Neidjie’s poem portrays his strong connection to the land, cultural history, and his want to pass along traditional wisdom and stories to future generations. Gagudju Man is a powerful statement of Indigenous identity, environmental importance, and the Gagudju people’s spiritual connection to their ancestral land. Neidjie uses language and storytelling to express themes of loss, survival, the need for cultural preservation, and inherent unity.
“Language is different,
like skin.
Skin can be different,
but blood same.
Blood and bone,
all same.
Man can’t split himself.”
How does Neidjie’s simple language speak to the common humanity that is shared in all of us despite external differences?
Margo Smith
“Now you’ve seen my story. It’s a good story. Not like your story, but a good story all the same.” (Ten Canoes)
White European want to know
asking ‘What this story?’
This not easy story.
No-one else can tell it
because this story for Aboriginal culture.
I speak English for you,
so you can listen,
so you can know,
you will understand.
If I put my language in same place,
you won’t understand.
Our story is in the land.
It is written in those sacred places.
My children will look after those places,
that’s the law.
Bill Neidjie, Land
Both of these works share Aboriginal stories in English, but in ways that make outsiders, particularly white Europeans, look through the lens of their ways of knowing. In Ten Canoes, all of the dialogue is in indigenous Aboriginal language and in Bill Neidjie’s poems he employs a different sentence structure that puts yams and trees and you and I on a level playing field. The fact that nature is so integral to the stories and the language is another way the stories can be portrayed to outside cultures without losing their original shape.
There are throughlines and timeless lessons from the story in ten canoes even though circumstances and relation to the land may have changed through generations. How does the structure of the film and its playfulness with patience and storytelling that bounces around 3 distinct timelines complement the idea of eternal law derived from the land that Neidjie discusses?
All that’s left to say is, some get Birrinbirrin some honey!!
Aaron Batty
Tree might be sick,
you feel it.
You might feel it for two or three years.
You get weak,
little bit, little bit.
Because tree going bit by bit.
Dying.
Tree not die when you cut it.
He not die tomorrow, he still green.
Might be five or six weeks,
might be two months.
You feel it then.
Your body.
You feel it.
this seems to be the vibes in all of his poetry, writings, and the cultural heritage he is a part of. He spoke on the land being part of them and them a part of the land, the water is their blood, the animals their brothers. Part of my history is going to a private christian school, and my first thought was Jesus saying this bread is my body and the wine my blood. this faith some have in Jesus is the same as this culture having faith in their land. That connection, that love, that empathy one is more likely to hold when you have a reason to be connected, but through the land and Jesus connections can span much further. I also never thought about how long it really does take for a tree to die, even the stump tries to regrow, a stable form of consciousness that tries to be alive no matter the circumstances. we can learn different lessons from all different physical representations we see around us.
so my question is what is something you are connected to within your own life that has some lesson to teach you, whether that be a friend, a banged up car, a crushed bottle, or a tree that you sit under?
-elan
Over the winter break of 2024–25, I traveled to Australia, visiting Perth, Dunsborough, and Sydney, along with several surrounding areas. Sydney’s climate and environment reminded me a lot of my hometown, Charlotte, North Carolina—but despite the similar weather, the flora and fauna were completely different and fascinating. While in Sydney, I visited the Aboriginal Museum, which was an intense and eye-opening experience. I remember taking a photo of the AIATSIS Map of Indigenous Australia, the same map Anatoli referenced in Thursday’s lecture. Seeing it in person was jaw-dropping. But that sense of awe quickly faded as I began to reflect on the history it represents—centuries of displacement, exploitation, and the deep impact of Western colonization. At the same time, it’s important to recognize that most cultures across the globe, throughout history, have been shaped—whether forcibly or subtly—by external forces.
Every poem by Bill Neidjie resonates deeply with the spirit of Indigenous Australia. His work is infused with Aboriginal vocabulary and dialect, capturing the essence of Aboriginal life with powerful simplicity. Each page and stanza offers a vivid glimpse into the everyday struggles, resilience, and profound connection to land and culture. Of all his poems, Death stands out as my favorite because it’s beautiful and filled with a quiet strength that lingers long after reading.
The poem Death is rich with symbolism, weaving together deep connections to the land, sky, and cosmos with spiritual beliefs and cultural values. What first drew me in was its opening pages dedicated to space, a subject that has always fascinated me. From the very beginning, the poem emphasizes the importance of passing down knowledge and wisdom across generations. This storytelling reveals an unbreakable bond between people, the earth, and the universe. The theme of death is not an ending, but a return to Mother Earth. A powerful line on page 48, stanza 3, captures this beautifully: the moon “[will die and come back, like the moon does each night].” The poem offers a sense of peace, gently reminding us of the cyclical nature of life. It’s a soothing, soulful read that stays with you.
Me:
Death is like the ocean,
Each of us are a drop,
Evaporating into the sky,
until we fall back down,
becoming one
with the ocean again.
Evan Guiney
Rotten tree.
You got to burn him.
Use him to cook.
He’s finished up.
Cook or roast in coals.
White Europeans cook in oven,
from university.
Aborigine didn’t know that before.
Now all this coming up with Toyota.
This earth
I never damage.
I look after.
Fire is nothing,
just clean up.
When you burn,
New grass coming up.This poem by Bill Neidjie, titled Rotten Tree, reflects on the Aboriginal relationship with nature and fire. The speaker contrasts traditional Aboriginal methods of using fire to clean and renew the land with European practices, highlighting how the land is treated with respect and care. The “rotten tree” is burned to make way for new growth, symbolizing regeneration and renewal. The poem emphasizes the importance of looking after the earth and using fire not for destruction but as a tool for environmental care, suggesting a deep, respectful connection to the land.
-Will Bradford
In the book, Gagudju Man by Bill Neidjie, the section that most caught my attention was Land, it focuses more on the natural connection between the aboriginal people and their territory while comparing it to the monetary value that others prioritize. This collection of poems reflects truths that are still prevalent today. Neidjie comments on the connection between past values that are rooted in nature and living with the land while, modern society, is driven by money and power. He reminds us that true wealth does not come from money but that love, liberty, and happiness sustains our wealth of life. These poems remind us that money is not as important as our happiness, land, and life and that greed can be destructive and should remain in check.
In this modern era, how can communities and individuals alike shift their capitalistic values to prioritize values like compassion and a connection to the environment?
-Fia Mascari
While reading Gagudju Man by Bill Neidji, they allowed me to further my understanding of the key theme in Ceremony and the stark differences between Western and Indigenous worldviews. Both of these works challenge the very dominant Western mindset, more specific in how they frame knowledge, time, and connections to the world. One example of this is the contrasts left between linear and cyclical time. In our reading of Ceremony, the non-linear narrative allows the reflection of worldviews and where time isn’t a straight line but rather a more fluid idea, continuously changing past, present, and future. Similar in Gagudju Man time is depicted as something that simply is not needing anything to exist. This is a shared perspective that allows us to call into question the limitations of Western progress and history. Questions that could be asked here are such: In what other ways do these texts resist Western frameworks? Might it be through the way knowledge is tied to land, or how it is shared—communal rather than owned?
-Lex Blake
“Law never change,
always stay same.
Maybe it hard,
but proper one for all people.
Not like white European law,
always changing.
If you don’t like it,
you can change.”
This poem compares and contrasts the indigenous law system and white European law systems. It highlights the fact that indigenous laws never change, while European laws change all of the time. Why might deep moral ties with nature affect the structure and longevity of indigenous laws? How does the absence of these ties create an everchanging law system in many European societies? Why is there such an absence in European communities?
-Jack Brion
“Each man he stay,
stay on his own country.
He can’t move his country
so he stay there,
stay with his language.
Language is different,
like skin.
Skin can be different,
but blood same.
Blood and bone,
all same.
Man can’t split himself.”
This quote stuck out to me because I feel as though it is of increasing importance. When Bill Neidjie mentions country, I believe he is relating the term to indigenous cultures who are not only born of the land, but it is their home and a part of them. Although people come from different areas, we are united in our diversity. You can not separate yourself from a part of who you are. I find this quote appealing because it explains that there is a certain unity in all of us, and the richness of the cultures we are surrounded by should be celebrated and not cause separation or marginalization based on the color of one’s skin or the languages they speak.
How does Neidjies’ quote, “Man can’t split himself,” challenge current ideas of assimilation in a world that is only modernizing?
One passage from Neidjie’s poem, “You’ll be part of earth when you die.
You responsible now.”, was very powerful to me. I find one of the major issues with the climate crisis to be a sense of apathy towards future generations, or even one’s own life. It is easy to think that if you will die before a catastrophic world ending event, it is not your problem. Neidjie’s work challenges this notion of indifference by offering the idea that our beings will always be part of the earth in physicality, even after death, and calls on us to claim responsibility for our own actions in addition to our shared land. In what ways can we use this notion of responsibility to educate future generations, and inspire passion for environmental protection?
Paige Kaine
For my discussion response I will be focusing on the following poem:
I don’t know about white European way.
We, Aborigine, burn.
Make things grow.
Tree grow,
every night he grow.
Daylight
he stop.
Just about dark,
he start again.
Just about morning, I look.
I say, ‘Oh, nice tree this.’
When you sleep,
tree growing like other trees,
they got lots of blood.
Rotten tree,
you got to burn him.
Use him to cook.
He’s finished up,
cook or roast in coals,
White man cook in oven,
From university that.
Aborigine didn’t know that before.
Now all this coming up with Toyota.
Bill Neidjie’s poems offer a lense into Aboriginal ecological knowledge and the contrast between Indigenous and European ways of understanding the natural world. Growth is observed in feeling, rhythm, and connection. Neidjie states,”every night he grow,” depicting how as the trees and nature continue to live and breathe the same as us as we sleep. There is an understanding that trees have “lots of blood,” a sign of life and vitality, which contrasts sharply with the way colonial and Western systems often treat the environment as lifeless or purely utilitarian.
Neidjie also critiques the shift toward European tools and practices, “white man cook in oven/ From university that”, not necessarily with resentment, but with a quiet observation of change and loss. The arrival of modern tools like Toyotas and University knowledge depicts a transformation un lifestyle, but also implies disconnection from traditional ways. There’s a subtle mounting here, a recognition that something essential is being displaced by technology and colonial systems. Yet, there is also wisdom in adaptation and resilience.
What does the poem suggest about the relationship between tradition and modernity, especially in the context of indigenous identity?
Sasha Fuellhart