Ilbjierri Theatre Company: Health Education Works (2006–2019)

Abstract

This chapter describes Ilbijerri Theatre Company’s health education theatre productions from 2006 to 2019, led by Kamarra Bell-Wykes (co-author) in her role first as writer and later dramaturg, facilitator, and director. These works sat under Ilbijerri’s Social Impact stream as separate from their mainstage productions and were funded by various state and philanthropic bodies to deliver health education and promotion around specific issues affecting Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities: Chopped Liver (2006–2009; 2017), Body Armour (2010–2013) and Viral – Are You the Cure? (2018/2019)—also known as the Hepatitis C Trilogy—all deal with hepatitis C transmission, management, and treatment; North West of Nowhere (2014–2016) addresses sexual health and healthy relationships; and Scar Trees (2019) addresses family violence. The chapter offers an overview of the health and funding contexts in which they were created, as well as a brief snapshot of the reach and impact of each performance. We also provide a detailed synopsis of each play that includes specific approaches to writing, performance, production, and touring, before moving onto a more in-depth contextual discussion around First Nations Australian approaches to theatre in health education in Chap. 3.

In 2005, the Victorian Department of Health first approached the nationally acclaimed Ilbijerri Theatre Company to develop a work that would address high rates of hepatitis C in First Nations communities. This became Chopped Liver (written by Kamarra), and since then, the health education works have been steadily evolving. The goal has been to create engaging, culturally focused ways to educate communities about pressing health and wellbeing issues; and to create spaces for open dialogue and reducing stigma around these often-sensitive topics. Since the success of Chopped Liver, the works have been consistently supported with funding from the Department of Health, as well as additional funding from bodies such as Creative Victoria, the Victorian Health Promotion Foundation (VicHealth), philanthropic organisations, and local government. As discussed in Chap. 1, author Kamarra Bell-Wykes, a Yuggera and Butchulla woman and successful independent theatre maker, was the driving force behind these works—first as a commissioned writer and later as a director, dramaturg, and community facilitator. Kamarra also spent five years from 2014 to 2019 in the role of Ilbijerri’s Education and Learning Manager and subsequently Creative Director which enabled her to work more closely on later productions and develop her approach to community-engaged practice. Importantly for the Hepatitis C Trilogy (Chopped Liver, Body Armour, and Viral – Are You the Cure?), Kamarra had lived experience of having and clearing the virus, which heavily informed her creative involvement in the works. Despite their educational focus, the works have always been underpinned by an ethos of artistic excellence, with creative teams that have included some of the most recognised and esteemed Australian artists, for example, playwright and dramaturg John Romeril, performer and arts leader Rachael Maza (Ilbijerri’s current Artistic Director), former Ilbijerri Artistic Director Kylie Belling, theatre makers Isaac Drandic, Margert Harvey, Declan Furber Gillick, and performers Melodie Reynolds-Diarra, Carly Sheppard, Leroy Parsons, Maurial Spearim, and Ian Michael. The works have also provided a vital platform for young and emerging First Nations artists who have gone on to work in mainstage theatre productions, film, television, education, and arts and community leadership.

The Department of Health’s funding was contingent on Ilbijerri establishing a formal reference group to strategically advise on the health content of the concept, script, and production, and later community outreach for these productions. Health professionals from organisations such as the Department of Health, Victorian Aboriginal Community Controlled Health Organisation (VACCHO), and Hepatitis Victoria contributed their on-the-ground insights into their clients, target audiences, and broader health contexts, but these also inadvertently informed the characters and narratives, as will be discussed later. This ongoing structure became a vital knowledge base and created space for rigorous interrogation to ensure accurate and strength-based messaging was included that nevertheless did not impede the making of high-quality, culturally informed art.

As outlined in the Introduction, since their inception, the five health education works discussed here have reached over 26,000 audience members in tours across the country into venues ranging from traditional theatres to schools, colleges, prisons, youth justice centres, community and neighbourhood centres, health centres, housing centres, Aboriginal community-controlled organisations, university campuses, and conferences. Depending on target audiences and venues for the shows, audience members were made up of a mix of adults and young people; a mix of those directly affected by the health issues being addressed, those supporting them, and members of the wider community; and mixed gender identification. While remaining First Nations culturally focused, tours welcomed audience members from all backgrounds, with tour data from Viral (2018–2019) and Scar Trees (2019) indicating an average of 64% First Nations audience members (as compared to the national figure of 3.2% [Australian Bureau of Statistics 2022]). Tours varied in duration and reach, but typically would last approximately three weeks. The early Chopped Liver national tours ran up to five months and involved an average of two performances per day.

Evidence gathered over the years and for this research points towards the performances being highly successful in engaging audiences and communities with the issues through a combination of sophisticated storytelling, compelling characters, high-quality performances, humour, and cultural content. It is widely acknowledged that gathering evidence for the impact of such programs in affecting health outcomes is virtually impossible, however, the data does paint a picture of extremely high levels of audience engagement, increased insights into the issues, and evidence of audience members left feeling empowered to act in relation to their own and others’ health. These findings will be explored in more depth in Chaps. 4, 5, and 6 through themes identified across all five health education works. For now, though, we discuss each of the plays in turn, beginning with the Hepatitis C Trilogy (Chopped Liver, Body Armour, and Viral) and followed by North West of Nowhere and Scar Trees, focusing on details about the commission, creation, production, and touring of each play. This will hopefully give the reader a strong grounding from which to understand the background and context into First Nations Australian approaches to health education through theatre (in the next chapter); and the findings and outcomes discovered through our research into these five important performances.

Chopped Liver (2006–2009 and 2017)

Verse

Verse She ran away. He ran amuck. And one day they ran into each other… Meet Lynne and Jim. They’ve both been around the block – working, protesting, jail, partying, and kids. Now they’ve come home – but can they leave their past behind? A Blak Comedy about life, love and being more than “chopped liver”. Chopped Liver was written by Kamarra Bell-Wykes to raise awareness of hepatitis C in the Indigenous community and toured nationally from 2006 to 2009. In 2017 the show returned by popular demand and was updated to communicate that a cure is now available for hepatitis C. This show is deadly.Footnote

“Deadly” is a colloquial term for “very good” or “excellent” that is widely used by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in Australia.

Hepatitis C doesn’t have to be. (Ilbijerri Theatre Company n.d.-a)

Ilbijerri was commissioned in 2005 by the Victorian Department of Health to develop a play that would communicate hepatitis C prevention and education messages in a culturally appropriate way to Indigenous communities (Fig. 2.1). Ilbijerri formed a partnership with the Department of Health, the Victorian Aboriginal Community Controlled Health Organisation (VACCHO) and Hepatitis Victoria to deliver the project and contracted Kamarra Bell-Wykes as writer, John Romeril as dramaturg, and Kylie Belling as director. The artistic team worked with support from a reference group comprising the key partners, which grew in subsequent years to include Corrections Victoria, Department of Justice (who provided funding for a tour into Victorian prisons) and Justice Health (a unit of the Department of Justice). Chopped Liver was the work produced out of this first iteration of Ilbijerri’s Social Impact stream and the first in what was to become the “Hepatitis C Trilogy” (Fig. 2.1). Arguably the most successful and well-known of the works, Chopped Liver provided essential creative learnings for future works. Kamarra describes the synopsis of the original play as follows:

The play starts in 1998 and you’re taken along the journey of the two characters – Lynne and Jim – over 20 years to 2006. It’s about their stories. They’re from a small country town – could be anywhere in Victoria. They move to Melbourne, and back again and have a kid. But the whole time that they’re travelling, they’re travelling with this hepatitis C virus and the play is about how their relationship with the virus changes over those 20 years. So hepatitis C is actually another character in the play. Hepatitis C is something that’s from their past, in their youth. But now, 10, 15 years later, even though they’ve got kids, got jobs and living straight, it’s something they’re still living with. Mistakes they made unknowingly come back and haunt them and now it is about trying to live with their consequences. But it doesn’t have to be a negative, life damaging experience. Things are what you make them, so that’s what the show is trying to show. (Keating 2009, 9)

Fig. 2.1

Gregory J. Fryer (L) and Nazaree Dickerson (R), Chopped Liver. Image by James Henry (2017)

In 2017, the play returned by popular demand and was updated to include vital information about the new treatment for hepatitis C, which had much higher rates in clearing the virus than previous antiviral medications. Where the original version of the play ended with a message about how to live with the virus, the 2017 version raised awareness of the new treatment, which at that time was not being taken up by First Nations communities.

Part yarn, part stand-up comedy routine Chopped Liver starts with an engaging fireside-style story about a young skink who wants to be a goanna.

Jim: There’s this skink, your run of the mill, backyard skink. Not even fully grown but he’s lost his tail a few times and thinks he’s pretty bad. Sometimes imagines he’s a mean frill-necked lizard. Then he starts thinking; maybe he’s a goanna, just born in the wrong body. Do all skinks start out as skinks and the ones that chase the dream become goannas? (Bell-Wykes 2018a, 2)

Powerful imagery and cracking dialogue interweave Jim and Lynne’s lives through land rights marches, the Collingwood public housing flats, and the bank of the Murray River, reflecting First Nations historical, political, and community contexts.Verse

Verse Jim:1988. Important year. The White Australian Race is having its 200th birthday. The whole world’s invited to Brisbane for a big party called Expo. The Murris up there also send out an invite: 40, 000 years of Dreaming! 200 years of Nightmares. Don’t Celebrate! Demonstrate! Boycott Expo 88! Deadly slogan hey? My cousin Johnny’s catching the bus up to Brisbane. He’s going to boycott Expo – And I’m going with him. Sounds to me the sort of place goannas are born! (3)

Humour and cultural metaphors “distract” the audience from the issue of the play with the first mention of hep C not coming until five minutes into the performance and working as an effective and powerful dramatic moment that packs a punch.

Jim:The blood drips down my hands and I feel pretty tough. The ink marks my skin and I feel pretty dangerous. The virus enters my body and I don’t feel a thing. Hepatitis C is so small you can’t see or feel it – at first. I didn’t even know I had it for another next 10 years. (10)

Inviting the audience inside hep C’s lived experience transforms the characters from an infected ex-junkie and criminal to identifiable community members everyone wants to win. Repositioning hep C from an individual burden to a collective challenge creates a radical empathy in the audience that is transferrable to others and themselves.Verse

Verse Jim:It was because of stigma it took us 15 years to realise hepatitis C isn’t a death sentence. We, who’ve got living to do, Lynne:A kid to raise! Jim:I mean check us out, a good looking couple right? SFX:camera click Lynne:What are we: chopped liver? Jim:No way! (49)

With 137 performances across Melbourne, country Victoria, South Australia, New South Wales, Western Australia, Queensland, and Tasmania in 2006–2008 and 2017, Chopped Liver reached a total of approximately 7500 audience members touring to prisons, schools, and community organisations across the country; as well as to professional audiences at conferences and health care settings. It won the 2008 Indigenous Community Justice Award, and Victorian Public Healthcare Awards “Secretary’s Award.” The play set the template for Ilbijerri’s cross-sectoral partnerships and artistic approach that would continue through the next 15 years and remains one of the most memorable and talked about of the Social Impact works. We will discuss some of the reasons for this further later, but in 2008, the consultancy firm Effective Change conducted an independent evaluation of the play’s 2008 Victorian tour (Keating 2009). The evaluation found that the play was highly successful, largely meeting its objectives of (a) raising awareness of hepatitis C in First Nations communities; (b) developing innovative cross-sectoral partnerships to respond to the issue; (c) delivering performances in culturally appropriate community settings; (d) developing relationships between community members and health agencies; and (c) promoting and marketing the show using culturally appropriate methods and channels.

Body Armour (2011–2013)

Verse

Verse Meet Dannii, Harley and Rose. Three teenagers. Three individuals. Three modern-day warriors on a quest for identity; fuelled with attitude and armed with ink and steel. When their paths cross unexpectedly, they realise that they might have found more than they were looking for. And that sometimes, the best way to look forward is by looking back… Body Armour is the next instalment from the team behind the multi award-winning Chopped Liver (which has been seen by almost ten thousand people in over 150 communities, schools and prisons across Australia). Fresh, sassy and razor-sharp, Body Armour has been specifically designed for high school audiences, to raise awareness of hepatitis C in the Indigenous community and beyond. The story follows the journey of three teenagers as they experiment with at-risk activities such as piercing, tattooing and blood sharing. Timely comparisons to ancient body modification rituals gently remind us of the importance of history and culture in the search for identity and the need to belong. Vibrant, funny and non-judgemental, the show’s power lies in its ability to open minds, discussions and possibilities. (Ilbijerri Theatre Company n.d.-b)

The second show in the Hepatitis C Trilogy, Body Armour, came from a need to target First Nations young people—who were identified as being at risk of hepatitis C—with a tailored approach that spoke specifically to their life experiences (Fig. 2.2). Employing elements of physical theatre, satire, and chorus, the work is set at the local Aboriginal community health service where the three young characters who all go to the same high school conveniently meet in the waiting room just before they are all unknowingly diagnosed with hep C. Each must overcome their individual peer pressures and support each other through what could be the most altering event of their lives. Alongside the central plot, TV archaeologist Hugh Foot investigates various traditional modification rites and their appropriation in youth culture and fashions. Body modification is presented in Body Armour as cultural practices integral to signifying initiation, grieving, history, kinship, and lore—drawing parallels to contemporary society and young people’s search for belonging and meaning.

Fig. 2.2

(L-R) Maurial Spearim, Sandy Greenwood, and LeRoy Parsons, Body Armour. Image by James Henry (2011)

Hugh Foot:Meet Danielle Boye; an average Australian girl, but with a very Un-Australian body piercing. When done traditionally, a piercing was symbol of a child’s rite into adulthood, perhaps the symbolism of growing older is not completely lost here in the West or is it just another place to put pretty jewellery? Are Danni and her friends simply young women displaying their bosom buddy bond? Friendship bands merely taken to the next level? Or is this a traditional practice transformed into a modern ritual? (Bell-Wykes 2018b, 25)

Through this lens, young people are attempting to develop their own cultural frameworks of expression, belonging, identity, and experience in a modern world with modern-day risks. As their personal dynamics unfold in real-time, heightened flashbacks demonstrate the back stories of each character’s social context, modification, practices, and ultimate contraction of hep C.

Tabby::

Legend has it the founding member pierced her very own belly button with it because there was no one fierce enough to do it for her. The very same needle has been used ever since.

Danni::

That’s disgusting.

Tabby::

It’s tradition. (16)

The work was created through the continued partnership between Ilbijerri, the Victorian Department of Health, Hepatitis Victoria, and VACCHO (whose workers joined the tour). Kamarra was again commissioned as writer, with John Romeril as dramaturg and Margaret Harvey directing. The work toured schools, justice centres, and remote community centres throughout Victoria from 2011 to 2013 and was also performed in a national regional tour across four states in 2012. In 144 performances, the show reached approximately 9600 audience members and in 2013, Ilbijerri and its project partners won the Creative Partnerships Arts and Health Award. Despite some challenges in relation to creating the work, as will be discussed later, the show was very well received. Reviewing the work in The Age, Cameron Woodhead described the work as a “fast paced comedy drama” and highlighted the skill of the creative team and complexity of the characters, observing:

Each has been exposed to the virus through blood pacts, backyard tattoos, and unsterilised piercings. Far from discounting these rituals of commitment and initiation, the show suggests a rich cultural pedigree. Cod anthropology is woven into wonderfully observed clowning focused on instantly recognisable insecurities of youth—the body armour everyone wears. … Perhaps only Ilbijerri, our oldest indigenous theatre company, could speak with such empathic attunement to marginalised groups. (Woodhead 2011)

Viral – Are You the Cure? (2018–2019)

Verse

Verse Sifting through myths, smashing stigma, and getting the right information can seem like an impossible dream – but preventing and curing hepatitis C is now easier than you might think. Join Ally and Kev who live up in the flats. They’ve got their own little place, a brand-new baby and dreams for the future. Life should be good but sometimes things don’t always go to plan. Meet Merv who hasn’t been feeling great lately, not for some years in fact. Years of tough luck, bad choices and hard living have finally caught up with him. They’re all looking at one final chance to make things right before it’s too late. (Ilbijerri Theatre Company n.d.-e)

The third and final instalment in Ilbijerri’s Hepatitis C Trilogy was Viral, commissioned by the Victorian Department of Health in 2018 to bring up to date the messaging and education around hep C transmission and to promote to audiences a revolutionary new, simple, and successful treatment (Fig. 2.3). Despite there now being a free, easy, safe, and effective treatment for the virus, uptake in First Nations communities was disproportionately low compared to the broader community, and the play was developed in response to this. Viral actor and theatre scholar Blayne Welsh (2018, 24) writes,

One of the reasons identified by the reference groups that Indigenous people living with the virus were not taking up the new treatment was due to the perceived stigmas surrounding hepatitis C, including its association with drug use and the fear of being shamed by community and family should their status become public.

Fig. 2.3

Jesse Butler (L) and Laila Thaker (R), Viral – Are You the Cure? Image by Tiffany Garvie (2018)

As with the previous two works, a key goal was to explore the unique complexities of hep C in the First Nations context and break down the shame and stigma associated with the virus through live performance and comedy. Kamarra was again brought on board as a lead creative, this time in the role of director, dramaturg, and community facilitator, with multi-arts practitioner and Ilbijerri founding member Maryanne Sam commissioned to write the script.

From 2014 to 2019, Kamarra was appointed in an ongoing role at Ilbijerri and began exploring ways to embed more community-engaged approaches in developing the Social Impact works. This led to community workshops and yarning circles becoming integral to the theme and story development for Viral and Scar Trees (see further below) and formed the basis for the approach being trialled through the new model underpinning The Score. The strengths, opportunities, and challenges of these strategies will be explored later; however, Kamarra’s desire to engage with First Nations communities directly for Viral was borne out of a need to answer the fundamental question of why people were not taking up treatment. Having cleared the virus over six years earlier under the old treatment regime, Kamarra did not feel confident in understanding the barriers that faced communities in 2018. For this reason, she worked with Shiralee Hood to design and facilitate workshops with three groups who were seen as being important targets for the messaging. These were active IV drug users who were either not seeking the treatment or were in the pre-contemplation or contemplation stage in relation to treatment; incarcerated adults who may or may not have had the opportunity to take up the treatment; and older women in regional areas who were considering, undergoing, or completing the treatment. These workshops greatly informed the characters and underlying themes, including shame and self-worth, intergenerational relationships and trauma, communal sharing practices,² and daily survival, distrust of the colonial health system and its medicines, and historical and ongoing systemic failure. As a result of Chopped Liver’s previous success and the status and expertise of Kamarra and Shiralee as facilitators, these workshops also resulted in strong community buy-in for the work.

For Viral Kamarra, as director, developed various scenes, themes, and characters with the actors and playwright using improvising and devising techniques drawn from the community workshops, fictionalising the dramatic elements, and developing the creative team’s understanding about the issue. The playwright (Maryanne Sam) then developed these ideas into the script and the process was repeated back and forth to reach the final draft. Informed by the community workshops, the team developed three characters at different stages of the virus: Ally and Doc/Kev—a young couple with a newborn baby—and Merv, Ally’s estranged father. Ally contracted hep C from Doc sharing needles but is now clean and considering the treatment. Doc is still using, in and out of jail, and doesn’t see the point. Merv, who has contracted hep C through a transplant and has recently been hospitalised for liver failure, reaches out to Ally hoping to meet his grandson before he dies.

Doc::

How long have I had it?

Used for about 12 years. So, ten I guess.

Ally::

A couple of years

Merv::

Too long.

How did I get It?

They give it to me. Kidney transplant. Had a blood transfusion

Ally::

Can I pass?

Doc::

The usual. Treatment?

Nah! I can get rid of it meself mate.

Merv::

They’re not getting their hands on me again. Not after what they done.

Viral centralises Ally’s perspective who must decide to choose the treatment with or without her partner, a common challenge faced by women who often prioritise others over their own needs. These intersecting narratives reflect the testimonies and complexities of the communities’ experiences.

Merv::

Few aches and pains. They can’t keep me down.

Doc::

Comin down’s worse! Dying? Dyin’s easy. It’s livin that’s hard.

Merv::

I’m not going anywhere! Got my girl Maggie out there somewhere.

Ally::

Thinking about it a lot lately. I don’t want my son growing up without his Mum. Not like I did.

Alongside the central plotline, a problematic production crew is filming the characters’ lives for a budget documentary about hep C. These modern White archetypes add humour and a satirical lens that interrogates the health care system and society’s stereotypes and misconceptions about hep C and First Nations communities while being an efficient vehicle to distribute health information.

Lewis::

We’ve got a broad selection of Koooorees from the community lined up; Elders, young couples, prisoners, those in different stages of treatment and those who don’t seek help at all.

Lizzie::

I’m so excited. Let’s close this gap.

Phil::

I don’t get it. Why don’t they get the treatment?

Liz::

Coz they’ve got their bush medicines and stuff

Phil::

But this actually works and it’s free.

Lewis::

Well, as the doco title alludes to Phillip, ‘Viral – Are You the Cure?’ That is exactly what we’re about to find out!

Viral had the most sophisticated design of all the works, elevating the production both aesthetically and dramatically. Rather than basic song samples and sound effects as used in previous productions, multi-instrumentalist and sound designer “small sound” composed an original symphonic score. The music provided the intensity and creative quality of a “professional” mainstage production while supporting the audience’s emotional connection to the piece. Also designed and constructed by small sound, the set—coined “The Viragon”—consisted of six large triangles and a central circular piece that interlocked to create a raised hexagon platform (and subsequently replicating the DNA shape/structure of hep C). Originally designed as a portable stage to overcome the limited eyelines of non-theatre venues, it instead creatively informed the work in a much deeper way, its fragmented pieces forming the play’s various institutional settings housing commission flats, prisons, and the hospital. As the characters reunited with their inner strength, the Viragon was finally arranged in its complete form and danced upon in celebration (the only time it was used as a stage), symbolising their victory over the virus. After the show, audiences were encouraged to sign and leave comments on the Viragon creating a communal message board crossing regions and prison walls, this transference of energy and purpose transformed a set into a political act and a performance into a ceremony.

Ultimately, every theatrical element of Viral including the set, soundtrack, and even scene transitions were informed by the social and cultural context of the virus and its lived experience. This conscious and instinctual exchange between the issue, the community, and the art created the most sophisticated creative product and engaged audiences for the works thus far. Viral toured to community centres, schools, and prisons across Victoria and South Australia in 2018 and throughout Victoria in 2019 delivering 34 performances to around 2061 audience members. The planned 2020 tour was cancelled due to the COVID-19 pandemic, which led Ilbijerri to develop the play into a digital film and educational resource that was launched in July 2022 (Ilbijerri n.d.-e), which, despite having the same characters and plot lines, was ultimately a much more sombre and potentially less engaging work.

North West of Nowhere (2014–2016)

Verse

Verse One ute, two teenagers and a long road ahead. No looking back now. Wyatt and Nella are 16 and from the middle of nowhere. Wyatt’s in love with a girl who doesn’t love him back and Nella just wants to escape from the small town gossip. Enter Cuz. He’s just got out of jail and knows a good time when he sees one. Desperate to fit in, Wyatt tags along with Nella and Cuz and together they pile into Cuz’s ute headed one way for Sydney. Nella’s got her heart set on the big smoke and a whole new life, Cuz has other ideas and Wyatt can’t help thinking they should all just turn back now. North West of Nowhere is the next instalment from the team behind the multi award-winning shows Chopped Liver and Body Armour, which have been seen by almost 20,000 people in over 200 communities, schools and prisons across Australia. North West of Nowhere is raw, honest and takes a fresh approach to raising awareness of sexual health and the importance of respectful sexual relationships. Written specifically for secondary school audiences, young people will relate to Wyatt and Nella as they journey from their teenage dreams to proud young adults ready for the world. (Ilbijerri Theatre Company n.d.-c)

North West of Nowhere is the first of two performances under discussion that sits outside the Hepatitis C Trilogy (Fig. 2.4). The play was developed again in partnership with Victoria’s Department of Health in response to a spike in rates of chlamydia and other sexually transmissible infections (STIs) among First Nations young people, exacerbated by high-risk sexual behaviours and attitudes. Building on their previous work on Chopped Liver and Body Armour, Ilbijerri again commissioned Kamarra Bell-Wykes as writer and John Romeril as dramaturg, with input from the reference group. Rachael Maza directed the 2014–2015 iterations of the show, with Eva Grace Mullaley directing a remount in 2016.

Fig. 2.4

Jesse Butler (L) and Brandi Nelson (R), North West of Nowhere. Image by James Henry (2016)

The play was created for secondary school-aged audiences and followed what Kamarra describes as a standard Theatre in Education (TIE) format, with the performance followed by a facilitated audience discussion. As with the other productions, Kamarra focused on the wider social context informing the central message. It was about negotiating respectful sexual relationships and about young people coming into their power to be able to ask for the respect and make choices that honour themselves—particularly within a sexual health space. The characters, therefore, needed to journey from a place of disempowerment and self-comprise to one of power and pride.

Set on Survival Day Eve,³ North West of Nowhere is a coming-of-age road-trip story focused on 16-year-old best friends Nella and Wyatt, who ultimately journey from disempowerment to self-determination and pride. The two older male characters offer opposing male role models for the two young protagonists. Ol’ Man is an engaging narrator appearing as a mysterious shapeshifter along the journey, guiding and aiding the young travellers on their way. In opposition to Ol’ Man (played by the same actor) is Wyatt’s Cuz (cousin), a charming bad boy who comes with big risks and even bigger consequences whilst bringing humour and energy to the piece.

Wyatt::

Looks just like Dad, pumped up and inked out from the last stint inside.

Nella::

Kinda bloke just looks at a woman and breaks her heart.

Wyatt::

Checking out the barmaid, checking out anything with a pulse.

Nella::

A man’s man, a real lady killer. Kinda bloke looks at a woman and her clothes just fall off.

Wyatt::

Kinda son my Dad wanted – kinda man I’ll never be. (Bell-Wykes 2018c, 8)

Each of the protagonists’ character arc in North West of Nowhere is underpinned by cultural metaphors, grounding their journey in ancestral wisdom and experience. Wyatt’s arc is paralleled by a fictionalised retelling of the Bogong Moth’s Song-line from Queensland to Capital Territory, a tale of strength and transformation Wyatt must replicate.

Ol’ Man:Just when he thinks he can’t fly any further he lands on the mountains peak, stretches his wings and dances in the water. Can you hear the mountain calling you little fulla? It’s telling you – it’s time, you’re ready for change. (25)

Nella’s metaphor is drawn from The Dreaming story of the Brolga Dancer, a beautiful young woman held captive by a Magic Man who forbids her from dancing, reflecting Nella’s experience with her abusive boyfriend.

Ol’ Man:But when she stretched her wings she found she still could, it could not be stolen; her spirit was stronger than any man’s magic. (44)

As Nella and Wyatt overcome their internal and external battles, they must overcome various external challenges that ultimately lead them to Canberra and the historically significant 40th anniversary of the Tent Embassy,⁴ reclaim their determination and purpose as young Blackfullas with their whole future in front of them.

Nella::

Feel it in my bones.

Wyatt::

Rhythm in my feet.

Nella::

Rises in my chest.

Wyatt::

Song lines like a heartbeat.

Nella and Wyatt::

I wasn’t ready for this.

Nella::

I can’t.

Wyatt::

I’m right here by your side.

Nella::

Stand on the circles edge.

Wyatt::

Red cloth of lap laps, white ochre on brown skin.

Nella::

Bare feet stomp and sweep Imprint the black ground underneath.

Wyatt::

They all turn to look.

Nella: :

Like they’ve been waiting.

Nella and Wyatt::

For us to come. (43–44)

The show toured schools and communities across Victoria in 2014, 2015, and 2016, reaching around 7112 audience members through 83 performances. It was also shared in several important health sector contexts, including the International HIV/AIDS Conference (2014), the Department of Health (2015), and the Centre for Excellence in Rural Sexual Health’s (CERSH) SexRurality Conference (2015). North West of Nowhere was also unique in that the 2015 tour was supported by a First Nations health worker who facilitated the post-show discussions and worked to connect young people with relevant local health services; and a web-based educational resource accompanying the performance was produced by Ilbijerri’s Marguk education program.

Scar Trees (2019)

Verse

Verse Kirra-Lee and Bryce are at the servo. The jerry can is half-full. One phone’s flat and the other one’s out of credit. Garren’s on his BMX. The shit one. He knows all about what it can do, and its limits. He knows the tracks he doesn’t want to go down. Fightin an that. He knows there’s other ways. There’s gotta be other ways. Uncle Laurie does his wood carving and runs a men’s group. He’s been off the grog for a while now. They’re all trying to get to Uncle Pat’s funeral. But when they get there, what stories will be told, and what will be left unspoken? (Ilbijerri Theatre Company n.d.-d)

The last of the health education plays discussed in this volume is Scar Trees, created in 2019 with funding from Creative Victoria and the Victorian Health Promotion Foundation (VicHealth) and aimed to address family violence in First Nations communities (Fig. 2.5). Part of the approach was to implement community workshops with children and young people in care to explore the issue of family violence from their perspective and develop a script from these. For support with this element of the project, they approached the Victorian Aboriginal and Child Care Agency (VACCA). Arrernte playwright Declan Furber Gillick was commissioned to write the original script, but due to time and geographical constraints on the collaborative process, Kamarra (in her capacity as director and dramaturg) adapted the script in rehearsals.

Fig. 2.5

Racheal Oak Butler, Scar Trees. Image by Tiffany Garvie (2019)

Scar Trees is a naturalistic character-driven drama that offers a powerful reflection of the emotional truths of family violence. Focused on 15-year-old Garren, in and out of care, he demonstrates the lived reality of crisis experienced by young people trapped in cycles of generational dysfunction, systematic failings, and violence. Established via a troubled and compelling monologue whilst popping wheelies on his BMX bike, the audience is playfully drawn into the young man’s abandonment and trauma.

Garren:Yeah, nah, this one’s gammon.⁵ My dad got me a proper BMX. A Haro CK AM. Yeah, he got me it. But it’s at his house. In Ascot Vale. Yeah, I had to leave my bike at dad’s. I had to leave dad’s cos one of the kids - my foster brother or step brother or whatever - he said my mum was a prostitute. And I was like – she’s not and who cares if she is but she’s not. But he said some other shit. Full dirty shit. I won’t tell you what he said but yeah anyway, I went in that place what I go into when it’s… All I can hear is like ‘roooaaarrrw’ like in my ears. All I can hear is like roaring like I’m standing on the ring road with all the cars plus a plane is going over. Like that’s all I can hear. And all I can see is white.

Garren’s carer, Uncle Laurie, offers a flawed and engaging role model that demonstrates the impacts of colonisation and intergenerational trauma redeemed through unconditional love, self-compassion, and personal healing.

Uncle Laurie:I started to do me carvin’. I went down the back and got my tools and they was still sharp. Hadn’t got rusty or nothin’. Sharp as I’d left ‘em wrapped up in the cloth in their spot above the generator. And I never touched a drop since. Can ask your Aunty Dot, any of me grannies, anyone like that. Anyone who’s been around me these last eight years. I’ll guarantee you there’s no-one alive or dead that’d tell you they preferred me on the grog.

The second plot line follows siblings, 18-year-old Kirra-Lee and 22-year-old Bryce, broken down at a regional petrol station on their way to their father’s funeral. Kirra, obsessed with photography, carries a camera everywhere as she documents the world around her, the good, the bad, and the ugly.Verse

Verse Kirra-Lee points the camera at Bryce Bryce:Kirra! I’m eatin’ a pie! Kirra:Yup Bryce:What you gotta point that at me for? Kirra:This is the real shit, Bryce Bryce:Whatchu mean ‘the real shit’? No one wanna see a black bastard eatin’ a pie!

Their playful and sometimes explosive relationship portrays a familiar family dynamic full of humour and tension. As they reflect on their father’s death, Bryce and Kirra’s opposing views of his domestic abuse collide and its impacts on their lives emerge.

Kirra::

Well you’ll get your chance to say your bit, then, won’t you? You’ll get your chance to say your bit. Cos every bastard and his dog wants to hear your bit. Cos everyone’s a hero when they’re dead.

Bryce::

We’re gonna feel it differently. We’re gonna have different feelings about it. And different memories. You got yours. And I got mine. And I got a right to remember the father I remember.

The intersecting narratives offer the victims, observers, and perpetrators differing perspectives on violence, exploring a multi-layered portrayal of its causes and transgenerational impacts.

Bryce::

Who would stay in a situation like that? You probably don’t remember. You probably remember it worse than it was cos you were scared.

Kirra::

You don’t just leave, Bryce. You can’t just…leave. I thought you were smarter than that. Really, honestly I did. You live in a little bubble, ay. You live in a little bubble of thinking the world is all good. That our father was a good man who loved the footy, loved his family, done so much for his people. And used to have a bit too much ‘sometimes’ and pushed mum around ‘once or twice’.

Building on the elevated design of Viral, Scar Trees also featured an original musical score and metaphorical set design with a large makeshift scar tree doubling as a petrol bowser set centre stage. The tree’s large and almost mythical presence divided the space in two to create a split-screen device of two separate worlds of Garren and Uncle Laurie and the stranded siblings. A mesmerising dance of power dynamics and tension unfolds between the characters as the narratives cross back and forth before finally colliding in an explosive climax where the extent of the abuse and the family and community’s complicity is revealed in a confrontational but accurate demonstration of the perpetration, enabling and protecting of family violence.

Garren:People say you can’t say nothin’. It’s just our way. Private. What happens behind closed doors…gotta stay there. Well, if that’s true, I’m never goin’ behind a closed door. I’ll keep my door open, thank you very much. Cos there’s other ways. There’s gotta be other ways. Not like in the movies. Not happily ever after. Not Disney shit. Just like, takin’ care. Takin’ care of each other. Cos you want to. Cos you can. Cos, like, maybe even you’re good at it. Cos you know how, that’s all. And cos it’s the right thing to do.

Through the community workshops, the work aimed to empower the young people and engage community audiences with a focus on the experiences of victim-survivors of domestic and family violence. Some tensions within this approach are explored further later, however, the work was premiered at Melbourne’s Northcote Town Hall then toured throughout Victoria into health and community centres in 17 performances to a total of around 703 audience members. Again, this work included in the tour personnel the role of Family Violence Support Coordinator—a facilitator role that was responsible for “facilitate[ing] the yarning circles after each performance and to set it up as a safe space for community to give feedback after watching the show, but also unpack anything that may have come up as a result of watching the show” (Nazaree Dickerson, interview, 2021).

Conclusion

For the creation of the five works described above, a ‘traditional Western’ creative process was utilised involving 18-month writing periods and ongoing dramaturgical and creative development support with varying degrees of community and artistic success, often depending on the ability to balance each of these components in ways that would yield the best possible result. Despite some of the tensions in trying to achieve this balance, a growing list of best-practice principles and creative processes for delivering socially responsive, culturally informed, high-quality art while maximising community impact has emerged.

• Get to the heart of it: What’s the play about? What’s the play really about? For example, Chopped Liver is a play about hep C, but it is really about shame, love, and redemption.

• Systemic issues and the human condition: What are the social and spiritual factors underlying the high-risk behaviours? What are the deeper beliefs and societal systems that inform and underpin high-risk behaviours such as sharing needles, having unprotected sex, or not getting tested?

• A meaningful narrative of achievable transformation: Identify the problem, its underlying causes and opportunities for internal and external transformation through the characters and narratives to achieve pathways out of the “problem.”

• We don’t make pamphlets we make theatre: Our job isn’t to teach facts but to evoke feelings and create a space for honest, compassionate discussion about stigmatised issues.

• A spoon full of sugar helps the medicine go down: 98% creativity, 2% health information.

• Get ‘em laughing then punch ‘em in the guts! Win your audience over with humour then floor them with emotion.

• Our stories told our way by us: Authentic representation of First Nations languages, culture, knowledges, histories, social issues, and contexts is essential to creating empowering transformative work and audience buy-in.

• Western problems need cultural solutions: Colonial challenges take cultural resilience to survive.

• Identifiable, marginalised, but redeemable characters who offer the broadest representation of the issue and serve as the strongest vehicles for both the narrative and the health information.

• High-quality work that meets the target audiences’ needs and creative aesthetic, i.e. a play for young people needs a different approach from one created for Elders.

• Safe and dangerous: The work must safely and truthfully represent the issue and the relevant high-risk behaviours and contributing factors.

• No magic solutions: Brutal honesty and realistic optimism that accurately represents the lived reality of the target audience.

• Act local, think local—processes, narrative, characters, themes, language, and most importantly, cultural material should be drawn from and reflected back to the people it is intended for, i.e. the fiction should reflect and respect the beliefs and systems of the context the performance is being created for.

We return to these critical factors in more detail throughout the study, however, this summary list is intended to provide the reader with a strong grounding in how Kamarra and Ilbijerri approach the creation of such works. The next chapter offers a review of contemporary First Nations dramaturgies in Australia and a discussion of theatre for health education in First Nations and global majority contexts. This will demonstrate how the five works discussed here are situated within a strong legacy of contemporary First Nations theatre making in Australia that centres dramaturgies of community wellbeing, strength, and resistance.