Part Four: Consent and limitations
“I want people to be grabbed by the heart. Let them pause for a few moments to feel the air, the wind that comes along, and dream about Uncle Benjie or someone going up the river with the spear in his hand, looking for food, like they did in the old days. When you hold on to that, you go into dreaming, into culture, go with him, up the river.”
In this part of the Learning Experience, you will have the opportunity to learn from Uncle Bud Marshall, and his stories about Uncle Benjie Buchanan, who is a significant Gumbaynggirr person for the Ngambaa people. In this section, you will learn about respect, consent, and limitations, specifically how to respectfully engage with Aboriginal people and knowledge as a natural resource management practitioner.
Uncle Bud Marshall is a Waambung man of the Baga baga bari on Gumbaynggirr Country. He is a senior traditional custodian who has shared his knowledge and wisdom with many, especially young people. Guided by the Old fellas, and in particular his grandfather, Uncle Benjie Buchanan, Uncle Bud now shares some of his deep custodial knowledge with you.
Take your time reading about Uncle Benjie. We have included additional material for you to engage which encourages you to understand respect and limitations in your practice as openings rather than closures.
Listening to limits and responding to openings
Uncle Bud tells of a time he went fishing and got too carried away about the catch, forgetting that you should never take more than you need. His Grandfather has continued to look over him since he passed away, trying many ways to communicate:
My brother-in-law [Aunty Shaa's father], he was married to my sister. He used to work up in the bananas [the area is known for its banana plantations]. As soon as he went to work, I said, ‘I'll bring you some fish home for tea.’ So, he'd go to work, I'd get my fishing gear ready and walk up the beach. I'd take a little spear with me. That is what I got the crabs with. That is the only bait I'll use. I won't get bait from shop. I was only using a handline, that is what my people used to use.
I continued up, sat on my little perch, there was a rock behind me too. I was sitting. You could see the bream [a fish species] right around the rocks. I caught about four big ones but I kept going. Next minute I hear the stones rattling, coming down the hill. I thought it must just be loose stones up on the hill. I turned around, fishing again. Same thing's happened again. I looked around again. It was really steep behind me, a cliff. Guess what was up there, a little padymelon [wallaby, small kangaroo]. I thought, ‘How did he get up there? No one can get up there?’ I didn't take any notice, kept fishing. This was another sign from Grandfather. Next thing, I heard a bump, a stone hit right where I was sitting. The padymelon was stunned, knocked out.
I thought, ‘Ahh here, I got something big for tea for me and my brother-in-law.’ I put the fish in my bag, I am ready to grab this kangaroo that was knocked out. I went over, it opened its eyes. I thought, ‘I got you.’ I was about to grab it by the tail. Then where I was about to go, the path, it started wobbling. I am chasing it, I am. I seen it, it went up the water course at the back of the beach. I am right there, about to grab it by the tail and next minute I got all this hair on me, the tail slipped away from me. I said, ‘I'll get you.’ I was determined to get it. It got strong and stronger as it got to the waterhole. It stood up, it looked at me, and I looked at it. It stood up, started scratching its chest, just like that.
I got worried. I thought, ‘Look out, I might be in trouble here.’ I went into the water. I walked back, it followed me the whole way. I was watching it, it was watching me. It must have been a spirit, sent by my Grandfather.
I got cut as I was leaving. Guess who turned up, my eldest sister and my brother-in-law. She said, ‘Oh we gotta get this fella to the hospital.’ Everything was alright then.
So that was strange. I cut myself when I jumped off the rock to get the wallaby. I was using a bottle with a line on it. The bottle cut me. Bleeding or not bleeding, I was determined to get the wallaby take it home for tea.
The message was from my Grandfather that I got too much fish. And I shouldn't have been there on my own. That was the only way he could warn me to get away from there. I was such a stubborn little kid.
Uncle Bud, in taking too much fish, being alone in a dangerous situation, was not following more-than-human protocols and agreements that are in place with Country. In Gumbaynggirr Country, we are bound by Gumbaynggirr Law/Lore and our place within it, which includes a system of multi-species agreements, learnings, attachments, and protocols. These can help provide guidance and make sure we live in relationships of continued nourishment and care.
Consent
Seeking consent from Country, listening, learning, and heeding the Old Fellas and the more-than-human beings that make up land, sea, and sky has to be more than tokenistic. Intentions are important but, by themselves, ‘good intentions’ are not enough. We are talking about meaningful engagement and reciprocity, respecting and following more-than-human ethical protocols and agreements. This means listening to Country and, most importantly, responding, meeting, and honouring our responsibilities, responsibilities-as-Country.
As Uncle Bud says, ‘People don't know where they are walking. You can't just wander around. It's strong.’
Even when there are ‘the best of intentions’, if a person or Country's consent or involvement is assumed, there cannot be a respectful relationship.
In conversations about consent with Aboriginal communities, it is important to recognise the deep emotional burden these discussions often place on Aboriginal people. Too often, consent is approached with the expectation of an automatic and enthusiastic "yes"—especially when intentions are seen as good. When this expectation isn't met, the response is frequently defensive, marked by withdrawal or refusal to listen.
These reactions reflect an underlying possessive logic—a belief in the inherent right to access, use, and benefit from Aboriginal land and knowledge. This entitlement not only retraumatises Aboriginal people but also reinforces the racial hierarchies of settler colonialism.
A more respectful approach begins not with asking for consent to pursue a predetermined goal, but with listening—genuinely, openly—to what, if anything, is being offered.
Living Sea Country
The land, sea, sky and river are all connected here on Gumbaynggirr Country.
In the 1950s Uncle Benjie Buchanan and many Elders could often be seen spear fishing around the v-wall, in the river and in the lagoon which reached right up to the cliffs. Uncle Benjie made spears from the kurrajong tree, the wood so light that it floats.
The old people could read the clouds and the birds. They could talk with the spirits; they knew the stories and they knew the seasons.
Uncle Bud remembers his Uncle Benjie, Aunty Byne and many of the old people who used to live and hunt around here:
Uncle Benjie would sit up on that wall there, right in the middle. He’d watch the mullet come across. He’d know exactly where they were going and then, bang, he would spear them. Our job as boys was to hold the end of the line. Uncle Benjie would dive right in after the fish. He could hold his breath for the longest time.
The Old fellas are still here, watching over us. We are still living with the river. Have a listen to Uncle Bud talk about a project he led to create a public art installation in honour of his late Uncle Benjie Buchanan, an Elder and revered spear fisherman. Through Uncle Benjie’s sculpture, Uncle Bud invites people to see and feel Country, to attend to its patterns and its cycles, to live in relationship with it and to understand this always was and always will be Gumbaynggirr Country. The importance of this is that you are invited from a Gumbaynggirr Custodian.
The Old fellas are still here, watching over us. We are still living with the river.
The design centres the symbolic significance of the spear. The spear acts as Uncle Benjie’s spine as if to say, culture kept Uncle Benjie upright and forward facing. The silhouetted head is actually two heads. The outer profile is Uncle Benjie as an elder and the inner profile is of a younger boy’s face. This speaks of the intergenerational knowledge that is passed on when younger generations face the same direction as the elders.
The river element of the three flowing lines is a stylised profile of the Nambucca River. The bended knee or Baga Baga is the part of the river that flows into the heart because of the significance of that story to Gumbaynggirr people.
The sculpture shows the hairy grubs, the butterflies and the flowers of the wattle that would tell when the mullet were running. There are seasons for everything.
Aunty Byne would say, “Look out, here they come.” And the mullet would come.
You are invited to touch the sculpture for a little moment. You could hold your hand on the spear near the figure’s heart. Become part of the sculpture by standing next to it and feeling that you too could be strong in culture. Face the same direction as the Old fellas.
