It has begun. The pre-monsoon season in the northern part of the northern territories. When summer approaches in the tropical climate around Darwin, the humidity becomes so high, unbearable almost, that huge amounts of water gathered in gigantic clouds seep in from the Timor-sea, announcing their arrival with dooming thunders and streaking lightening bolts, darkening the sky like bad omens, only to release their weight upon the dry country in powerful showers of the life-giving wet. Gunumeleng. How the aboriginals in Kakadu call. In one of the many languages of the many tribes that once flourished in the area, and only recently had the chance to recover from the settlement to once again take over the management of the land. As many peoples there were, as many stories there are now about the creation of the storms and their significance. It is hard to follow them all. Imagine not living in one big country, but instead in over two-hundred little ones, some of them stretching not farther than a few tens of square-kilometres, all of them with a different language, different culture, different lore. Sounds a little like Europe’s geography and ethnical distribution. Now imagine someone would generalize Europeans on a large scale, say think that all Europeans love to eat bread and cheese, because the French do. Just a very simplified example, of course. Wouldn’t that be enraging? And all these people now are governed by the same group of individuals, who they can’t identify with, because of their dramatically different ethnicity, and even worse, who don’t identify with them, since Australia’s efforts to work through the errors of their past is still in baby-shoes. The recent referendum, the ‘voice’ was supposed to establish a group of aboriginal representatives to be consulted in political questions regarding their own. It failed. First, because many Australians are unfortunately rather racist. Especially in the remote areas, where otherwise extremely pleasant conversations can have incidents of ‘hide your sunglasses, otherwise the blacks will come and steal them’. Secondly, many aboriginals seems to have lost their will to fight. Stuck in two worlds, not being a part of either, because one doesn’t accept you and the other has been reduced to dust before you were even born, it feels like they shield themselves from further emotional harm by indifference to the outside world. They wouldn’t be the first. It would have been on the rest of Australians to return some hope into their lives by passing the referendum. But they didn’t. So, teenagers will continue to release their seemingly inexplicable rage by tearing each other’s hair and punching each other in the face in the middle of Darwin. Adults will continue to yell at each other in the bus and take whatever they can to hide their pain. All while the first summer rains return the green to their lands and make the air breathable again.