Large marquees have been set up, helium-filled balloons on strings stand upright against a blue winter sky.
A small ferris wheel starts to rotate and the mobile playground slowly fills up with young children in Wellington Square, East Perth.
It would seem like just another fair in Perth, but upon closer look the majority of the crowd have distinctly dark skin, the balloons are all black, the colorful hand shapes on the lawn are not just decorations but a symbol of reconciliation and the overall pace of the place slower, the crowd a bit more laid back - even by Perth standards.
The activity was held to mark the opening of the National Aboriginal and Islander Day Observance Committee (NAIDOC) week in Perth, and for some of the few non-indigenous people in the crowd it was also an introduction to the first Australians' perspective on life and their own Aboriginality. As the opening ceremony's MCs, Samuel Pilot-Kickett and Edward Wilkes introduced themselves to the audience, bantering with "the mob" and speaking of the festival's theme this year, "Honoring our elders, nurturing our youth". The small number of non-indigenous people in the crowd had a chance to experience a side of indigenous Australians rarely talked about in mainstream media.
It was a refreshing change from the mostly negative reports in which indigenous Australians are either portrayed in a bad light or seen as mere statistics. Last week, for instance, the Australian media highlighted a two-yearly report by the Federal Government's Productivity Commission which concluded that the gap between indigenous and non-indigenous Australians in terms of social and economic quality had not narrowed significantly, and in some cases widened. Among the indicators were life expectancy; infant and young child mortality; literacy and employment.
As Kickett, a youth leader and graduate of the Western Australian Academy of Performing Arts, and Wilkes, an associate professor at Curtin University's Centre for Developmental Health, as well as other prominent figures from Perth's indigenous Noongar community spoke on stage that day, the audience was reminded not only of past harm and current grievances experienced by indigenous Australians, but also of hope in the next generation.
Indigenous elder Theresa Walley, in her Welcome to Country address said, "I come from the stolen generation... I have heard of redress, I have heard of land rights, but nothing has happened. And I don't think I will see any of it in my lifetime." Now a tour guide and writer of children's books, Walley spoke of how she had spent her youth oblivious of her potential to contribute to the Aboriginal community and the wider Australian society. It was not until she approached retirement age that she started to become active. She plans one day to write the story of her own childhood.
The "stolen generation", of which she was a part, is a term used to describe children of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander descent who were forcibly removed from their families by the state and placed in church missions during the late 19th century up to the 1960s. This practice, which occurred across Australia, was done in the name of "child protection" but is now largely seen as an authoritarian program of assimilation in which Aboriginality was meant to disappear over time.
Increasing self-esteem and having pride in their Aboriginal heritage is high on the agenda of indigenous leaders these days. Wilkes said the importance of having indigenous role models for younger generations of Aborigines could not be stressed enough, as well as holding on to the belief that, "This is our land, our place. And we are here to share it with the white fellas."
The events on Sunday included a flag-raising ceremony as well as various cultural performances, but what attracted the most attention was the "Battle of the Didges" competition. The didge, or didgeridoo, is like a flute in that it is a wind instrument, but that is where the similarity ends. A didgeridoo measures about 1.2 meters long and is made of trees hollowed out by termites, then cleaned and smoothened with sticks or hot coals. Traditionally, the low soulful drone produced by blowing the didge reflects the Aborigines' empathy for, and is sometimes an imitation of the sounds of nature heard in the bush; the rhythms it creates are reminiscent of the timeless outback of Australia.
These days, however, many contemporary didge players take the instrument to another level, lending to it a touch of funk and giving the music a rhythmic beat. Among the 20 or so entrants in the competition, almost half played the didge in contemporary style. Three of the entrants were foreigners, giving festival organizers reason to celebrate and a cause for Aborigines to be proud of their culture.
That morning, being in the midst of the mostly indigenous crowd, occasionally hearing unfamiliar dialects spoken and seeing Aborigines in their element, it was easy for non-indigenous people to relate to indigenous Australians as human beings with feelings, aspirations and fresh insight - and not just another set of statistics.
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