To breathe, to dance, to eat, to sing – these are the things that give life substance, meaning and propel us forward to continue living it.
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Our meetings begin gently. One by one, people arrive and a small crowd gathers, everyone keen in helping unpack shopping bags with tea and bikkies, coffee cups, sometimes a chocolate, sometimes a kettle and other times sugar, and if you’re lucky enough, a plastic spoon.
Our choir is called Barayagal. Nardi Simpson, Yuwaalaraay woman, songwriter, storyteller, playwright, legend, friend, offers a beautiful explanation of the first part of the word.
“ -barra is a Yuwaalaraay language suffix that signifies belonging of people and ownership of a place, a universal truth we assert to all Indigneous and First peoples around the world. It includes Yuwaalaraay creatives and community members as well as other First Nations creatives and non-indigneous performers and friends”
“The foundations of Yuwaalaraay cultural practice ask us to uphold, celebrate and practice our lore in the spirit of generosity, kindness and strength to all. We are expected to be this way – [it] is our cultural obligation and responsibility”
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Barayagal is comprised of a warm, diverse group of incidental friends: some of us are seasoned shower singers, some of us are wanna-be belters, many of us curious, some of us shy, all of us living on Gadigal land. Singing Nardi’s songs afford us just a glimpse into her world – they provide a miniscule insight into a culture that predates our own, younger ancestry.
Singing together is powerful. It’s the power of what gets sung, and it’s the joy of sharing voices with others. It’s also special to sing someone else’s imagination into life, especially when that imagination is so vivid, so personal and so warm.
Earlier this year, the Barayagal choir joined Nardi Simpson and Ensemble Offspring onstage at the City Recital Hall as part of the Sydney Festival. The show was titled -barra. We wore black and stood barefoot, each of us with a unique beautiful silk dyed scarf, credit to Nardi’s sister, Lucy Simpson.
While of course, it’s impossible to deny the special experience of singing at such a prestigious venue, more important to me was being able to share someone else’s telling of story, someone else’s expression of land and what it means to them, and by extension what it can mean for us. It’s a privilege, it requires something delicate and it’s a special, unique and meaningful way to connect with others in our world.
When I sing, I feel safe (even if outwardly I appear insecure). When I sing with others, I feel uplifted. When I sing something that means something to me, I feel like I have a purpose. When I sing, I take the sky into my hands and hold it for a while before I throw it back out into the universe and watch the stars collapse into place in their own dark sky – dying slowly, but living in our imagination as the bright things that guide us forever through a fevered existence. It brings me peace. It brings me the comfort and reassurance that I am real, or at the very least, that my imagined self is having the time of her life, contributing to a dream that speaks to the minds of others.
The program for -barra- can be found here.
There is also a live recording of the performance on ABC’s classic FM program, New Waves: Nardi Simpson’s -barra.
Gabriella Florek 