Of the few Indigenous Australian languages still spoken as a first language, Warlpiri is one of the most alive. My people have an earthy, often self-deprecating sense of humour. Their profound linguistic awareness leads them to invent hilarious jokes about their constant mispronunciation of English, and other Aboriginal languages, as well as the mispronunciation of Warlpiri by tin-eared English-speakers. As with any language there are rules around politeness, obscenity and sacrilege. However, once those rules are observed words become playthings to be used to produce wit and humour. My favourite examples are probably unpublishable in a literary magazine. Clever and funny but too politically incorrect.

I am a Warlpiri woman from Central Australia; I am Celtic; I’m Australian—a product of several cultures. My mother is from Yuendumu, a remote community in desert country. Her parents spent their childhood in the desert out of contact with the rest of the world. My father is a whitefella, originally from Newcastle. I was born in Darwin, conceived on Melville Island. My baby spirit Dreamings are from that salt water country; Crocodile and Deep Water. My inherited, family Dreamings, Jukurrpa, from my Warlpiri fathers are Ngapa (Rain) and Warlu (Fire) and from my mother, Jajirdi (Western Quoll) and Janganpa (Possum).