Pearls and Irritations

In 2019, I was Australia’s Consul-General in Makassar, and I remember meeting a group of Muslim Australians from western Sydney: they were planning to make a film about the Makassar-Northern Australia relationship. Their leader was Sheikh Wesam Charkawi, a tall, bearded man of middle-age, in haji cap and long white robes.

Sheikh Wesam was born in Australia of Lebanese background and studied Islamic law and jurisprudence in Syria and Lebanon. He runs the Abu Hanifa Institute in Sydney. Currently he is undertaking a PhD at Western Sydney University and is the convenor of Muslim Vote, which encourages Muslim Australians to support pro-Palestinian candidates in the forthcoming election.

In 2019, Sheikh Wesam told me why he wanted to make this documentary. He had heard that thousands of Makassan sailors had visited northern Australia for centuries before Captain Cook claimed Australia for King George III in 1770; and these sailors were Muslims. This story would be a powerful tool for helping young Muslim Australians understand that their religious ancestors had come to this land long before white British colonists, strengthening pride in their Islamic heritage.

Indeed, for a few hundred years until 1906 many Makassan sailors sailed to northern Australia each year on the northwest monsoon, in search of top-quality sea-cucumber (known in Makassan as teripang). They sold the teripang to traders from southern China. Over the centuries, Makassans developed strong and enduring personal relationships with people in northern Australia. Their cultural and linguistic influence was significant: hundreds of words in indigenous languages originate from Makassan or Malay, such as rupiah, meaning money.

In the first part of the documentary Sheikh Wesam journeys to Bawaka in north-east Arnhem land with a group of young Muslims from Sydney. He develops a close relationship with Djawa Burarrwanga, the traditional owner of Bawaka, and his family who share traditions and ceremonies about their long and close relations with the Macassans.

Then Sheikh Wesam moves to Makassar, to look for relatives of his aboriginal friends, descendants of the teripang sailors who visited northern Australia. And indeed, he meets an old man called Mansur, grandson of the last Makassan sailor to captain a vessel from Makassar to Arnhem Land in 1906, when Australian authorities effectively ended the cross-border teripang trade. Sheikh Wesam flies Mansur to Elcho Island to meet his long-lost cousins. Mansur steps out of the little plane that brought him from Darwin, to be greeted by most of the local indigenous community who are singing and dancing traditional greetings. Mansur takes the microphone and holding back tears, enthusiastically affirms the importance of their old connections.

Watching this documentary I felt, for the first time since I have been aware of the Makassan-north Australian links, the grief that both peoples felt on the ending of their relationship in the 1900s. This ending, and thus this grief, was a result of colonial government policies.

In 2019, Sheikh Wesam also told me he wanted to build a traditional boat and contract a crew of locals to sail it from Makassar to Yirrkala, Arnhem land, to reenact a teripang voyage and highlight the importance of the relationship. As Consul-General, I needed to ensure that everyone knew the challenges they would face, including meeting quarantine, maritime safety and customs regulations. This small wooden boat would be sailing without an engine across the Indonesian archipelago: and the journey across the Arafura Sea from Saumlaki in eastern Indonesia to Darwin would be long and dangerous. I urged them to contract a powered escort vessel for the journey. And once they were in Australian waters they could not drop so much as a handline in the sea, or they would be arrested for illegal fishing. And on arrival in Darwin the whole boat would have to be disinfected, before they could sail onwards to Yirrkala.

Sheikh Wesam asked an expert maritime historian based in Makassar, Dr Horst Liebner, to organise the construction of the boat and its voyage to Darwin. In one fascinating scene Horst describes the construction and launching of the boat, the Nur Al-Marege, in the village of Tana Beru, South Sulawesi. We see the completed hull — ten tonnes of hardwood — being pushed and pulled by dozens of villagers and Sheikh Wesam and his Western Sydney friends, over rolling logs towards the water. Horst says according to tradition the launch of a new boat is likened to a woman’s struggle and the pain of childbirth. Finally, with a splash of relief, the Nur Al-Marege slides into the sea.

There are many challenges along its journey, and when the Nur Al-Marege arrives in Yirrkala we see the Makassan crew standing in the water at the shoreline, waiting respectfully as their Yolngu friends dance and sing and welcome them onto their land.

My initial concerns about this film — that it would be a discourse on the superiority of Islam — were unwarranted. This documentary is an important telling of the truth of Australia’s people-to-people connections with our northern neighbours. It has moments of deep revelation and is an authentic account of the significance of the Makassan-northern Australian relationship. And it is a touching portrayal of Sheikh Wesam’s personal journey as he discovers this old and fascinating story, and its relevance to his community, and to all Australians.

After the movie Sheikh Wesam thanked me for expediting the visas for the Indonesian crew, which came through just as they were about to depart from Saumlaki. I said that had been easy: the result of a simple email. But I congratulated him for accomplishing something difficult and remarkable over the past five years. As producer, writer and director of this documentary, he has condensed 700 hours of hard-earnt footage into a fascinating, 93-minute documentary which presents a story that should be widely known by all Australians.

(Click here for details about screenings).

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