It's a great feeling when someone makes you feel welcome, but can you be welcomed home to a place you've never been?
That's one of the many questions on my mind when I visit the tiny island of Erub in the Torres Strait.
Not everyone I talk to knows where the Torres Strait is — for those too shy to ask, it's the waters between the tip of Queensland's Cape York and Papua New Guinea.
There you will find the 18 islands that make up the Torres Strait Islands.
Torres Strait Islanders along with Aboriginal people are Australia's First Nations peoples, each with their own distinct cultures.
Erub is one of the most eastern islands in the Strait and when looking at a map of Australia it's so tiny you could be forgiven for missing it.
For me, it's a place I've always known about but never actually thought I'd visit due to its distance from my Gold Coast home.
That doesn't seem strange until you know who I am — my family, we are Torres Strait Islanders.
I've come to the island to find out what life is like for Erubams, connect with family and culture, and immerse myself in one of the most significant events on the Torres Strait calendar, the Coming of the Light.
After flight hopping from Brisbane to Cairns then to Horn Island, I finally land on the volcanic-formed island and am greeted by my mum, aunty and uncle.
Erub is only 5.7 square kilometres and home to about 400 people.
Driving through the villages, I'm taking in everything including the views of crystal blue waters — but it's not the only blue I see.
I'm surprised to see there are Blues supporters in a place as far north as you can get from the New South Wales border (I'm told later by a local it's because it's no fun if everyone goes for the same team).
We arrive at the family property and my athe (grandad / great uncle) Walter Lui greets me with a big hug and says, "Welcome to Erub, welcome to your home".
My aka (grandma / great aunty) Diann Lui shows me to my room in a small cottage my mum remembers being built as a child. The front room was hers.
It's Mum's first time back in 57 years.
This family sanctuary is known as Kantok, named after a family saying for "can't talk" because it leaves you speechless.
But this island isn't full of tourists like Queensland's other isles. It's a place where people live, work and raise their families.
While Erub and the rest of the Torres Strait might seem far removed from Australia, its influence on Australia is absolute.
On the mainland, many men from the islands worked building railway tracks — in 1968, 40 Torres Strait Islander men were part of a team that broke the record held by America for the most tracks laid in a day.
Remarkably, they laid about seven kilometres of track in just under 12 hours in Western Australia's Pilbara region.
Closer to Erub, Mer (Murray Island) became the centre of the famous Mabo case prompting a crucial native title ruling, the legal recognition of First Nations Australians having rights and interests over land.
And if you love pearls, Erub (which is also known as Darnley Island) was home to a thriving yet dangerous pearling industry from the 1800s through to the 1900s. It attracted many Japanese divers, some of whom lost their lives to the "Darnley Deep".
And while it is nearer to its Papua New Guinean and Asian neighbours than the mainland, Erub firmly remains a part of Australia.
Still, Erub is undoubtedly shaped by its remoteness.
Coming of the Light
Erub has a foothold in the identity of modern Islanders thanks to an event that happened 150 years ago at Kemus.
On the northern side of the island, an ex-Peruvian slaver ship known as the Surprise sailed into Treacherous Bay on July 1, 1871.
Onboard were reverends Samuel Macfarlane and Archibald Murray from the London Missionary Society with 23 others who included "native pastors" predominantly from Lifou in New Caledonia.
They were there to deliver the Gospel.
These pastors were to be left on different islands across the Strait to continue spreading the word of God.
This historical landing shaped Islanders across the Strait, and today this event is reason enough for celebration.
A celebration known as the Coming of the Light.
The landing was no accident.
Well, that's the way many see it, including fellow Mer Islander Father Dalton Cowley, priest in charge of the Church of Ascension at Kowanyama.
"It came here because Darnley was ready, the time was right here," he says.
"There was no room in the inn at New Guinea, the stable was here at Kemus, and Surprise landed here.
The London Missionary Society's arrival in 1871 was pivotal for this new path, but it was the actions of Dabad, a warrior chief on the island, that were the catalyst for change.
At the time there were four tribes — Peiudu, Saisarem, Samsep and Meuram. Dabad was the chief of the Meuram tribe.
He was the first Islander to greet these strangers, shifting the path for Torres Strait Islanders' spiritual beliefs.
Today, a monument stands on the island to honour Dabad turning his back on tribal ways to accept salvation.
But why were Islanders so ready and willing to accept the Gospel?
Descendants of Dabad still live on Erub and I'm keen to talk to a sixth-generation ancestor, Kapua Gutchen.
He says Islanders weren't strangers to warfare; there was inter-island fighting and with the mainlanders to the north and south.
"It was best to accept Christianity and see it was another option for people to survive.
"They've already seen what sickness and atrocities can do to decimate our numbers.
"He accepted Christianity because I believe the island and many natives of the island had been through a lot."
Kapua believes Christianity put Islanders on a path where things could change.
While Islanders were accustomed to worshipping a being they couldn't see or touch, Father Cowley says this new god brought light at a time of darkness.
A darkness that came in the forms of fighting, witchcraft, sorcery, polygamy and cannibalism.
"When the Gospel was introduced it stopped us from doing that," he says.
"We are children of the light and from that time onwards until now and into the future."
Island life is familiar, yet worlds away
I don't feel a sense of darkness from the place or my interactions with the locals. People passing me in their cars greet me with a little beep, a warm smile and wave.
Faces become more familiar as I imagine mine will as well.
I'm in the company of more aunties, uncles and cousins who have also travelled here this week.
They introduce me to other Islanders as we move through the town, and when they turn out to be extended family, I am warmly embraced.
It's something we can still do here at the time, despite other parts of the country once again dealing with COVID-19 outbreaks.
Among the people I meet is Daisy Ketchell from the IBIS supermarket.
I spend a bit of time going back and forth getting bags of salty plums and other essentials for family meals.
Living on the mainland I take shopping and even banking for granted.
Here, if you want to put money in the bank, you have to physically fly it off the island, and there's only one supermarket to service the whole town.
They stock everything from bread to pressure washers.
It's "barge day" and things are busy in town.
A late barge, like today, means it's a long and physical day for the IBIS team who have to close the store to deal with the new stock.
"We have to manually take everything off the pallets, sometimes we get 12 to 18 pallets," Daisy says.
At the time they were in a temporary facility with containers serving as storage, but the newly built store has finally opened its doors.
This is one glimpse of island life and I'm keen to see more.
Activities throughout the week offer me a chance to experience more of island life.
A procession through town kicks off the week leading up to the Coming of the Light anniversary.
Locals gather near the jetty and after a warm welcome and island songs, Pastor Moa Sailor leads the crowd through the town blessing landmarks.
The old ways live on every day
In the village of Badog, Nelson Damoy Thaiday holds a spear-making workshop.
He makes spears sourced from native bamboo found around the island.
Nelson tells me he loves the old ways and that his passion for teaching the community stems from wanting to keep traditional practices alive.
Around the island, there's other evidence of the old ways.
Locals use traditional rock fish traps; sardines are an easy and plentiful catch.
At the other end of the site is the Erub Arts ghost nets workshop. Ghost nets — sounds spooky, right? Well, they kind of are.
Aka Diann tells me they are abandoned or lost fishing nets that float around in the ocean or wash up on the shore.
The artists are part of the collective that gathers and cleans these nets to repurpose them into artworks.
Erub Arts is also responsible for commemorative artwork and memorabilia created for the Coming of the Light celebrations.
A race that stops the island
People gather along the Coral Sea at Dadamud to watch the highly anticipated model boat races.
Competitors line up in the water and wait for the starting flag — several hundred metres away is another group of men ready to catch the boats at the finish line.
While it's action-packed, it's not all smooth sailing.
Some boats fly past opponents while others capsize, forcing their owners to wade through the water to try and rejoin the race.
A couple of boats are so fast that their handlers at the finish line don't get to them in time; now the race is on to find someone with a dingy who can stop the boat from sailing to a nearby island.
A family that works together
Kantok is a place of respite for me in the afternoons where I review my work, but I'm aware of how bloody hard my family are working.
They always do when we get together on the mainland for any family or cultural event.
I observe the nuances of how the family works together.
With the main event around the corner, my family, joined by rangers from the Torres Strait Regional Authority, focus on dressing the Kemus site.
One of those many busy hands belongs to an extended aunty I meet for the first time.
For Aunty Tabane Bustard, sitting still isn't an option.
"We've been working around here for weeks to get it ready; it's hard work but [easier] with the assistance of the rangers and families," she says.
Restoration of the All Saints Church is another project in town.
It was closed after succumbing to the elements, but this anniversary has breathed life into this house of worship and the doors have reopened.
The Anglican Bishop of North Queensland, the Right Reverend Keith Joseph, has also arrived on Erub to lead church services including the one on July 1.
The bishop joins my family for supper at Kantok and tells me the Torres Strait is an important part of the diocese. In fact, each year the annual celebrations are marked in the church calendar.
The church has "great pride and joy" in what's happened in the Torres Strait, he says.
"It's very clear that the Torres Strait has a vibrant culture and vibrant sense of identity."
He also acknowledges the mixed history of some missionaries who visited places in the Pacific and saw all native cultures as evil, which resulted in them trying to suppress languages and wipe out local customs.
"The Anglican Church, particularly here — we have very much a reverse [view] which is that culture is good and that culture shows how God was present at all times with these people," Dr Joseph says.
"The idea here was never to make Torres Strait Islanders into English Christians, it was for Torres Strait Islanders to be themselves in their culture just enlightened by the light of Christ, that gospel of peace and love.
The main event brings strength, unity
The events of the past week have led to this moment, the 150th anniversary of the Coming of the Light at Kemus.
People are flying and dinghying in from all over Australia.
Several hundred people gather for a religious service that begins like any other, but the walls of the church have been replaced with coconut trees, broken coral beneath our feet and a view of Treacherous Bay.
The bay where Reverend Macfarlane arrived on July 1, 1871.
Torres Strait Island Regional Council Mayor Phillemon Mosby addresses the service and says the date is deeply woven into the identity of Torres Strait Islanders, signifying strength, resilience and unity.
"God was already here; [London Missionary Society] brought the word, but his spirit was already here on Erub," he says.
"Our people have always been deeply spiritual people, and it is important to recognise and appreciate that an immersed and widespread faith existed throughout our region prior to the arrival of Reverend Macfarlane and the London Missionary Society on Kemus Beach back in 1871.
"However the brightness of dawn of July 1 marks the affirmation, marks a time and a history of our affirmation, of our spirituality in a Western society."
The Christian rituals largely remain the same but there is a presence of island culture in everything, including church hymns that are sung in traditional language.
The sound of Erub
This music is very much the soundtrack to Erub.
It begins with lone voices and drum beats to build quickly into a community choir of sorts that envelopes you.
The music signals a short community procession led by Bishop Joseph to the memorial statue of the Surprise at Kemus.
One of those on the drums and singing is John Armitage.
I'd corresponded with John before my arrival. He is the divisional manager for the Torres Strait Island Regional Council on Erub and has been involved in organising the event.
Although I have a family connection to the island, I thought it was best I follow the council's protocol of registering my visit and introducing myself, my connection to family and my working intentions.
I learn once I'm on the island that John has memories of playing with my mum's younger brother and sister.
There's also a military presence, but not in the authoritative sense. Instead, it's participatory.
Edmund Laza serves in the Australian Defence Force as a mentor to Indigenous soldiers.
Originally from Badu Island, he's part of the Defence Force's dance group.
He is another that feels a strong connection to the day.
"Being a Christian, it's a very big thing for me, and doing so it brought peace, harmony and a vision into the community which we all follow strongly as spiritual people of the Torres Straits," he says.
Call to Kemus
I'm not the only one feeling the call to Kemus.
For Torres Shire Council Mayor Vonda Malone, the pull to the Kemus service is personal.
"It's been entrenched in my family; we've a very strong history and linkages to establishing the church and being part of the Christian community here on Erub," she says.
It's a chance for her to connect with "familiar faces and the family you didn't know about".
That line resonates clearly with me.
In the sea of faces, I spy one that is familiar. I recognise her from my industry.
Genua Gela is a television presenter, performer, choreographer and writer.
She hails from Rockhampton and, like me, she is a mainland Torres Strait Islander.
Feeling overwhelmed this visit, she tells me her heart is full.
"I'm getting older, my pamily (family) is getting older, that connection back to country as a mainland Torres Strait Islander is many important," she says.
Tradition and culture
It's hard to gauge a different point of view on the island other than that the arrival of the missionaries was a good thing, because, religious denominations aside, the whole community is united about the light and the Gospel.
Kapua Gutchen has a take on this; he believes the Gospel united people and allowed them to be stronger.
"But other Islanders might see it differently — other Islanders look at it as a loss to our culture," he says.
He explains that people might misunderstand the difference between culture and tradition; tradition is something that isn't changed, whereas culture can change to suit the generations as you go along in life.
Feels like home
I am not as immersed in my culture as I would be if I lived closer to my family in the north.
There is much I miss and I can't wait to soak in when I am with them.
The language, food, music, dancing and, of course, the laughter.
The smell of that kai kai always feels like home.
The abundance of fresh fish and coconuts primes my tastebuds for what's to come.
I get excited as soon as the first coconut is scraped for the fresh milk, not just because my belly will be full but because island food is made with a lot of love.
To me, the food is distinctly island, however there are obvious flavour influences like soy and curry from its nearby Asian neighbours.
Capturing culture
I click away on the camera capturing the feasts and culture all around.
The dances are a favourite for me — and it seems for everyone else as well.
The presence of the smartphone is widely apparent with everyone hoping to fill each frame with the life and energy before them.
Me included.
I have learned more about my family and who I am as an Islander in this world, but it doesn't feel like something new, it feels familiar.
I've always felt like I belonged.
And this trip is no different.
I feel comfort, assurance and acceptance in knowing I already knew who my family is, who they are to me and who I am to them.
And while it's a long way from where I call home on the Gold Coast, I might have just found another home on the island that has shaped the Torres Strait and me.
Erub.
Credits:
- Reporting: Solua Middleton
- Photography: Solua Middleton
- Digital production: Solua Middleton
- Producer: Tim Leslie
