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When I first landed on the islands, who knew my time there would be so long and my time with you so short. The islands of smiles they called them, and my introduction was plentiful. My first hunting trip, we wavered under the hot sun, determined to find a bounty where freshwater meets saltwater, where the fish swim against the tide, a metaphor for island life. We sat pondering under the one shady tree by the creek, a gathering. That tree in time, would define your eulogy. We were lucky that day, fresh fish aplenty. We burnt the soles of our feet, treading the open white plains of sand to make our return to the jeep that would traverse the windy, boggy, bumpy track back to the township - almost a highway. You showed me significant sites along the way. A throwaway line here and there weaving a story of a country, its people and your home, known as Tiwi, meaning 'one people' with a language all of their own. You spoke of ceremony, of songlines that wound their way through a seemingly untouched landscape. But if you looked deeper, you could see the tracks and markers left from explorers before, a time unknown. Back to the smiles; we returned that day with a catch that brought out beams of white teeth, apparent against dark skin. My white skin glowed and drew interest from little ones. But you gave me a name and explained to them with good grace how I would fit in, in this new place. Sixty kilometres from the mainland, over 4000km from where I called home, I found a new way to live, to grow. We lit a fire and feasted and yarned some more. You told me stories about a shared culture and lore. You showed me how a plentiful catch turned into a feast for a whole community, that generosity was an honour, it gave you standing. To be in a position to give, a privilege. That first night, I slept soundly on a bare mattress in an open house, feeling safer than ever before. In time I would return again and again, thirsty for knowledge, looking for those lit smiles, an ache for the simplicity of a land where everyone knows their place. Six years you stretched my mind with visions and dreams. Gave my heart something to hold on to. Challenged my physical being to explore. In time I learnt the signs of land. I sat with you as elders passed and held their hand. Then the time came where I had to ‘yoyi’ for you. Dance with the siblings you had given me. Your dad showing me subtly how to move my feet to the rhythm of a silent beat. My heart gave way that day. I thought of you under your tree, now resting at peace. Nobody knew what we shared, how deeply you cared. You took the time to show me a future that could be mine. Your photo now sits on my daughters’ dresser. Four years ago I was blessed to hold her in my arms for the first time. She comes from your country, but we have moved on. I teach her language, her dreaming, infusing knowledge as we go. As she grows I will share the stories of days spent hunting, nights wishing upon stars. Of children’s open hearts. Turquoise waters, white sands, seas full of life and iridescent shorelines marked by the beginning of time. Tiwi, for all the palm trees, open seas, sunset vistas and sights that make tourists glee, it means something deeper to me! For those who were displaced, a whole generation of stolen children, its been a healing place. And for a visitor like me, I found a place that calls you back in time, where culture, connection, country are entwined. Tiwi Islands, where smiles are captured within the heart, not the camera. My angel, who I was honoured to call Dad, I think of you resting under your tree and thankyou for the best travel adventure I ever had. Each time my daughter smiles, for an instant I get a sense of Tiwi for the first time again. I'm home.