Kanalaritja

An excerpt from

The Seven Skins of Esther Wilding

Esther sitting next to Aura, two teenagers on the white sand. At their backs, towering blue gums and coastal heath bushes. The sea rolls out in front of them like a jeweller’s velvet mat. In gentle breeze and warm sun they sit, holding shell jars, minding flasks of tea and packets of biscuits, all the while watching the women on the shore. Nin, Queenie and others in their family stand in calf-deep saltwater, bent at the waist, trousers rolled up, sweeping their hands through fronds of golden bull kelp. Every now and then pausing to pluck an inconspicuous brown shell off a frond and drop it into a clear, small jar. Later the shells will be taken home, cleaned out and, by an ancient practice unknown to Esther and Aura, become piles of iridescent gems on Queenie’s shell-stringing table. Glowing in captivating purples, blues, greens, pinks, silver and gold, the colours of an Aurora sky. As if the shells were lit from within.

– Chapter 6, The Seven Skins of Esther Wilding