Global Songlines... why is Truganini in Norway?

This is the story of a black woman. And I am a white man. Yet I do feel like a custodian of this story, even though I feel so damn inadequate. So I've been reading what I can, and listening to podcasts. Sadly, it seems, there's little more than trinkets of info on Truganini's life. But these simple facts do suggest something of her experiences. Like this, on wikipedia – in 1829, by the age of 17: "...her mother had been killed by sailors, her uncle shot by a soldier, her sister abducted by sealers, and her fiancé brutally murdered by timber-cutters, who then repeatedly sexually abused her." And this, in The Vintage News: "Prior to her death, Truganini had pleaded to colonial authorities for a respectful burial and requested that her ashes be scattered in the D’Entrecasteaux Channel. She feared that her body would be dissected and analysed for scientific purposes. Despite her wishes, within two years, her skeleton was exhumed by the Royal Society of Ta...

Jack Charles, the famous aboriginal actor and ex-cat burglar – I'm a fan! Not of his cat burgling! Of his acting and his commitment to mentoring within this community – anyway, he just commented on my Facebook post with two simple, grand words: 'Global songlines'.   I am stopped in grinning wonder; while the comments just keep on streaming: JH – Too many people have forgotten that Songlines exist and that we all         share the same planet for life. EC – Truganini in Norway. Wow! KLH – Deadly RS – OMG I WATCHED A DOCO ON HER WOW WHAT AN AMAZING WOMAN SHE WAS MG – Wow, how amazing! As she was. :) CJ – Would love to know the full story of how she came to be painted all that way away NM – thats my nan BG – Nordic aunty Trugganinni ...... :) NHM – well you have taught me something. I only new 'Trugunnini' as a township over Werribbee way, thanks for putting a face to the name :) RW – In Burketown, on the Gulf of Carpentaria, ...

1000 shares! Is this what fame feels like? Online Facebook fame? Micro-fame? Is there such a thing as micro-fame? Or is that an oxymoron? Am I the moron for feeling it as fame at all? This mural has caught people's attention not because of me, but because of its mystery; its out-of-place-ness; its other(-side-of-the-)worldliness. And ABC radio want to interview me! Is this what viral means? Is this what news is? Me posting a few photos of street art I stumbled upon in Norway 2 months ago when I'm back home trying to sketch out a new life for myself and the kids? Why-why-why? All these whys don't make me wise. All I know is that I hold this story, and it feels like a gift. And I feel a responsibility to find the next chapter; to write it down; to share it. And it feels good to have a project; something to drive me on, it gives me a momentum to carry me through my grief. So here I am... Desperately trying to remember that ride I took – zooming here, there and everywh...

I am blinking. Not really believing what I'm seeing. I am standing on the footpath, straddling my bike. Is that her? It must be her! The evening is still and the air crisp on my skin. I look around. No-one. A few cars passing by, but no-one walking, or anywhere. I look back to the mural. Maybe it's not a mural. Maybe it's just really good street art. It's certainly not graffiti – too much artistry. I lead my bike off the footpath, flip down the stand and walk over to stand face-to-face with this large purple-tinted portrait. Is it really her? I stand right in front of it. I trace a full circumference of the head with my outstretched arms. Then I notice the necklace. I know about this necklace. I heard a radio doco a few months ago about how unique this style of necklace is; how ethnically distinct it is; and how this one lady is bringing back the craft of making them again. It has to be her. But here? How? Why? As an ex-Tasmanian trying to deal wi...