Story by Tina Mayulwuy and Daphne Gumiyalawuy. Transcription and translation by Emma Smolenaers.
Illustrations by Kenisha Gurruwiwi. Design by Llani Caffery Panuve.

Page 2
Baman'tja yolŋu'-yulŋu gan nhinan raŋiŋur, ŋathi, ŋama', mäḻu, wuḻman märi'mu ga djamarrkuḻi'.
Once, yolŋu were sitting at the beach, grandfather (maternal), mum, dad, old man grandfather (paternal), and the children.

Page 3
Maṉḏany mäḻuny ga ŋathiny marrtjin ṉakuy miyapunuw runu'lil.
Father and Grandfather went by canoe to the island for turtle.

Page 4
Ga ŋamany' waŋan, "Way, Wuḻman! Galki roŋiyirra dhu ŋathiny ga mäḻuny miyapunuŋurnydja. Wanha yikiny?"
And mum said, "Hey, old man! Soon grandfather and father will return with turtle. Where's the knife?"

Page 5
"Galkurr ŋarra märram warraw'ŋur," bitjarr wuḻman waŋan. Marrtjin ḻarruŋal ŋayi ga bäyŋu.
"Wait and I'll bring one from the shelter," said the old man. He went and looked but found nothing.

Page 6
Bala walal dhu djamarrkuḻiny' waŋan, "Ŋama'! Bäyŋun yikiny, nhaltjana limurr dhu?"
Then the children said, "Mum! There's no knife, what will we do?"

Page 7
Ga wuḻmandja waŋan, "Manymak, ŋarran dhu djäma nhä napurr gan bäki ŋäthil."
The old man said, "It's okay, I'll make one how we use to in the old days".

Page 8
Djamarrkuḻiny' waŋan, "Wuḻman, nhä nhuma gan ŋäthildja bäki?" Wuḻmandja waŋan, "Go marrtji walal. Ŋarra dhu milkum nhä napurr gan bäki.
"The children said, "Old man, what did you use in the old days?"
The old man said, "Come, lets go. I'll show you what we used."

Page 9
Bala walal marrtjin guṉḏan wapmaraŋal bala djäman yikin ga ḏakulnha.
Then they went and collected rocks to make a knife and an axe.

Yo. Dhuwal dhu ŋarra gurrupan dhäwu miny'tjipuy, miny'tji ŋalitjalaŋ, Dhuwa ga Yirritja miny'tji. Miny'tji ŋayi ŋalitjalaŋ ga ŋorra, gamunuŋgu, djalkiri, wäŋaŋur mala ŋarakaŋur, ga bulu ŋayi ŋuli miny'tji buku-law'maram ŋali bäpurruŋur, ga bulu ŋayi miny'tji ga ŋorra ŋunha manikayŋur ŋalitjalaŋ. Dhuwaliyi mala ŋalitjilaŋ ḻuku miny'tji ŋunhi ŋali ŋuli buku-dhawaṯmaram. Ga yindi ŋunha Ŋärraŋur. Dhuwaŋur Yirritjaŋur Ŋärraŋur, miny'tji ŋayi ga ŋorra. Ga nhämuny' ŋalitjalaŋ riŋgitj miny'tji wäŋaŋur mala, ŋunhi ŋalitjalaŋ ga miny'tji maŋutji-lakaram ŋalitjalaŋ Dhuwaw ga Yirritjaw. Balanya. Warrpam' ŋayi dhuwali, ŋayi ga gungam miny'tjinydja wanha ŋayi garramat gäpaḻaḻyu ga ŋayatham ŋanyan maŋandhu Dhuway ga Yirrijtay.

Dhuwali ŋalitjalaŋ miny'tjiny. Ga ŋunha munathay. Balanya. Dhuwaw ga Yirritjaw.

Daŋataŋawuŋ

Our Colours

I am about to tell a story about miny'tji, our miny'tji, Dhuwa and Yirritja miny'tji. Our miny'tji is here, ancestral designs, ancestral foundation, in lands, and also miny'tji lies across clan groups, and lies in our songlines. Such ancestral miny'tji is what we enact (we make ancestral past appear in the present).

There in the big ceremony, Ŋärra, in Dhuwa and Yirritja Ŋärra, miny'tji is there. Miny'tji is associated with our sacred, ancestral places, that is what the miny'tji shows us, Dhuwa and Yirritja. Like that. All miny’tji is held, where miny'tji is in the water, in the land, or in the clouds up above, Dhuwa and Yirritja clouds hold it.

This is our miny'tji. And the earth holds and protects it, it’s just like that. For Dhuwa and Yirritja.

Daŋataŋa