THEY DON’T HAVE siestas in the Galiwin’ku community on Elcho Island, in Arnhem Land on the Arafura Sea, but no one feels like doing much after lunch. I sit on the back veranda in the tropical heat as the afternoon downpour begins, the sounds of dogs howling and children shouting behind me. The bush is dense and I can’t see them.

My daughter Emma says that if I ever fear a dog attack, I must bend down and pretend to be finding a stone in the dirt to throw at them. They’d disperse immediately because they’ve learned that Yolngu hunters are great shots and assume that we Balendas – whites – are too.