• Denise Smith-Ali (third from left) and Charmaine Councillor (far right) with WA governor Kim Beazley and staff at the Noongar Boodjar Language Centre. Photo supplied
WIND whips the length of High Street in Fremantle’s historic West End.
The afternoon sun provides relief, warming the aged façade of Tuart Place.
Noongar linguist Denise Smith-Ali waits patiently in the lounge area, a white mug brimming with instant coffee on the table beside her.
Her friend and work-colleague Charmaine Councillor returns from a small conference room she’s just set up.
“I don’t think they’re coming,” says a disappointed Ms Councillor.
Ms Smith-Ali looks at her watch.
“Those mob didn’t even ring to tell us they wasn’t coming in.”
Ms Councillor shuffles past the old oak coffee table and slumps onto the couch.
“There’s a big funeral going on for that girl that got murdered,” Ms Councillor says quietly. “They’re all probably there. It’s very sad.”
Ms Smith-Ali nods in agreement. There will be no Noongar language lessons today.
The Noongar Boodjar Language Centre is based in Bunbury, but regularly holds classes and meetings in Fremantle and is considering relocating to Perth this year.
When the Chook visited their Bunbury office–tucked away in a quiet backstreet–proud Noongar mother Roslyn Dann was attending her weekly language class. She’s been a regular since May last year.
“Growing up, we wasn’t allowed to speak the language, we would just use certain words…It was a policy back in them days,” Ms Dann said shyly.
“[Having been] deprived of the language, I’ve felt as though I’m regaining a sense of belonging…learning the language has made that happen.”
Linguistics
Ms Smith-Ali and Ms Councillor co-founded the Noongar Boodjar Language Cultural Aboriginal Corporation in 2015.
They say they first had the idea for the centre as far back as 2004.
“It was a long time coming,” says Ms Smith-Ali.
The pair met in 1999 at Sister Kate’s in Queens Park. They were being interviewed for teaching positions at the Aboriginal K-3 school when they bumped into each other while waiting in reception. It was the catalyst for a 20-year friendship.
While teaching they developed a passion for linguistics that led them to enrol and study at the Bachelor Institute in the Northern Territory.
Ms Smith-Ali’s face lit up while reminiscing about a language conference they attended in Broome during their studies.
“Real funny!” she declares. “When we went to that conference–oh my God! There were people from all over Australia; even visitors from other nations outside Australia.
“That was a real eye opener to see how endangered we were right across the world in terms of our language.
“I thought Aboriginal only meant my people…I didn’t know Aboriginal meant every other black fella around the world. We didn’t even know.
“But you know what, how terrible it is they call us Aboriginal, they should be calling us Noongar, because we all in Australia got our own names.”
The geographical area in which Noongar is spoken is rapidly shrinking. Studies estimate that at least one language dies every two weeks around the globe.
“The first thing you do when you revive a language is you’ve got to look at the phonology; the sound of the language,” says Ms Smith-Ali
“The people who worked with our elders in the past never did a full-on phonology of Noongar. So as a language centre, we needed to do that.
“We put this out to all the linguists in Australia. Universities or anybody in Australia to help us to write our traditional phonology.”
Ms Smith-Ali pauses.“No-one put their hand up.”
She looks frustrated and takes another sip from her mug.
• Read part 2 in next week’s Herald
by SEAN HILL