Toxic tides
ON A LONESOME, seemingly infinite stretch of shoreline more than 100km away from any significant outpost, two Aboriginal rangers trawl through a pile of marine debris. Other than their own footprints, the only obvious signs of life the Yirralka rangers see are a sun-bleached kangaroo skull, crabs, hawks, and the occasional pile of buffalo droppings.
But at this Yolngu-owned area of East Arnhem Land, on the Northern Territory edge of the Gulf of Carpentaria, something is significantly wrong. The beach is far from untouched. It’s littered with thousands of multicoloured nets, ropes, thongs, wrappers and bottles.
Some of the rubbish is easy to spot – barnacle-coated fuel drums or buoys, while some remains harder to see – tiny shards of broken plastic containers and lids. It’s all destructive. At the most recent count, Territory researchers estimated up to a tonne of waste had washed up per kilometre along this remote coastline last year, most of it from Indonesian waters. It’s an environmental disaster knocking, wave after wave, at Australia’s doorstep.
AS A LITTLE BOY, Mandaka ‘Djami’ Marika would wander for kilometres on the white sands of his country on the Gove Peninsula, looking for a feed of turtle or stingray. It was out here his elders
