Through a Wongar, Darkly

‘and start to form and consummate the material we derived from pro-
jecting ourselves into the other and experiencing [them] from with-
in [themself]. And these acts of forming and consummating are effec-
ted by our completing that material (that is, the suffering of the given
human being) with features transgredient to the entire object-world
of the other’s suffering.’ (26) Here transgredience refers to the most
complete form of outsidedness; which according to Holquist ‘is reach-
ed when the whole existence of others is seen from outside: not only
their own knowledge that they are being perceived by somebody else,
but from beyond their awareness that such an other even exists.’
(Holquist, 1990) (32-3) There is here an obvious quandary though,
as dialogism predicates that ‘there is no way “I” can be completely
transgredient to another living subject, nor can he or she be comp-
letely transgredient to me.’ (Holquist, 1990)(33) So there is a distinctive
difference between the act of living into and transgredience. Trans-
gredience is rather the privilege of the author during the aesthetic act,
that is translating the suffering of the Other into art or into narrative.
Put simply transgriedience is the aspect of outsidedness that allows
for a balance between the empathic and the objective modes. In fact,
under Bakthin’s argument “live entering” and outsideedness allow
certain texts, such as Dostoevesky’s – and in my mind Wongar’s, to
function as ethical testing grounds. By examining the ‘suffering of a
protagonist’ a text vacillates between being an aesthetic form and an
ethical one.
Armando Jannetta in his comprehensive study of Canadian Metis
literature, Ethnopoetics of Minority Voice: An Introduction to the Poli-
tics of Dialogism and Difference in Minority Literature (2001), which
has provided the inspiration for this approach to Wongar’s work,
applies this paradigm of aesthetic understanding to the hybridised
discourse of Metis narrative – the Metis being an ethnicity based on
mixed-race ancestry between the Indigenous population of Canada
and the upper Midwest of The United States and French immigrants.
They are defined as being ‘a social group separate to Indians and Innuit
and non-natives’(Jannetta, 2001)(34), they are the Others of Canadian
society. What is crucial for my study is the position they hold as being
between two predominant ethnic cultures – the Indigenous and
White – and how this parallels Wongar’s unique position, as a hybrid
of several cultures.
Wongar arguably exists in a void between two cultures. His early
experiences upon arriving in Australia propelled him away from
the majority culture. As an immigrant he existed strictly within the
category of Other. This relegation exists on two levels, the first of
linguistic inability and the second of physical difference. As a non-
English speaker who struggled to acquire the majority language while
working on mining projects Božić, as Wongar was initially known,
was distanced by the Australians working on the projects such as
the Ord River dam. Similarly, his dark Balkan appearance labelled
him as a “Wog”. His lack of communication skills and difference in
appearance placed him outside of White culture. Sneja Gunew, in
Colonial Hauntings, argues that ‘in Australia there is a comparable
history of seeing Southern and Eastern Europeans as ‘black’’(Gunew,
2003)(48). Similarly, Maria Tordova asserts that ‘that the Balkans has
been describe as the Other of Europe does not require special proof’
and that further ‘the reductionism and stereotyping of the Balkans
has been of such a degree and intensity that it merits special study’
(Tordova, 1997)(3), this being the field of Balkanism utilising notions
around Saidian discourses or Orientalism. She argues that ‘the absen-
ce of a colonial tradition’ and ‘it’s crusading potential against Islam’ (20)
have left the Balkans stranded outside of Europe – not quite the Oriental
of Edward Said – but distinctly Other to the “Civilized World” (3). As
such fellow immigrants were wary of his Balkan ethnicity. It seems
only logical, therefore, that he would associate with more friendly and
accepting Indigenous population of places such as Delisaville. In this
light his marriage to Djumala, a Yolungu woman from near Yirrkala
(Wongar, 1999) (199, 167), is less surprising and more inevitable, finding
similarities in mutual difference from society – in this case their shared
“Blackness”. This marriage bought about the start of his assimilation
into Indigenous culture, but an assimilation that was unfortunately
cut short by the deaths of Djumala and their children.
Because of these issues of assimilation, Wongar is arguably outside
of both spheres. His strong accent remains thickly Balkan today as
is his appearance; he is an Other to Aboriginal society and to White
Australian society. This difference puts Wongar in the ostracized but
unique position of remove that allows for a sense of outsidedness that
can relate the genocidal events which he narrates to his audience.
The use of discourse strategies such as heteroglossia and polyphony
add to the sense of Wongar’s texts as being not just aesthetic objects,
but ethical ones. All of Wongar’s fictional works include substantial
glossaries of terms coming predominantly from either the dialects
of the Wild Honey People from near Mangrida settlement or the
Yolungu people from near Yirrkala. While some critics such as John
Hanrahan have argued that this strategy is narratively jarring and
forced (Hanrahan, 1992), I suggest instead such polyphony enhances
his texts as examples of minority literature in the mode of Delueze
and Guittari. In their view ‘A minor literature is not the literature of
a minor language, but the language a minority makes in a major langu-
age.’ (Deleuze and Guittari, 1983) Minority literature is interesting beca-
use it writes back against the overarching “Master” narrative of, in
Australia’s case, white colonial discourse. Wongar is difficult to ascribe
a specific category because his work inhabits a category between multi-
cultural writing and Aboriginal writing. His work, obviously, can
never be fully Indigenous, but yet it cannot be classed as multicultural
– his focus on indigenous issues bears little relation to multicultural
works such as Romulus, My Father or even forged texts such as They’re
a Weird Mob. Wongar’s substantial use of Glossaries function by
simultaneously reminding the reader that they are reading a minority
text – by alienating them, but also allowing them the opportunity to
experience a form of “live-entering” themselves; by reading the suffer-
ing of Wongar’s heroines and heroes.
Additionally, this enhances the implicit function of Wongar’s
texts – the engendering of shame. Erik Erikson asserts that ‘[s]hame
supposes that one is completely exposed and conscious of being
looked at, in one word, self-conscious. One is visible and not ready to
be visible’ (Erikson, 1975) (252). Wongar’s texts, because they function
as an ethical test – observing the suffering of the hero – are perfect
vehicles for engendering shame within the audience.
Wongar’s troubled position as witness to European and Australian
crimes against humanity imbues his texts with a resonance of despair
as he draws strong parallels between these seemingly disparate con-
texts. The suffering of his characters and protagonists is redolent with
the language of despair and torture of those at Jasenovac, thereby tran-
slating a uniquely European sense of suffering to a distinctly Indigenous
Australian milieu. The White audience is made distinctly aware of the
international language of abuse, making them visible in the gaze of
international judgment; they become visible and aware of the shame
in response to an act, or in this case inaction, when they would rather
be invisible. While critics such as Jackie Huggins and Sue Hoskings
argue, perhaps validly, that aspects of Wongar’s writing are cultural
imperialism, they do not begrudge him his aim – to bring positive
aspects of Aboriginal culture to prominence while highlighting their
mistreatment at the hands of governments and institutions. This is the
resisting that minority language calls for, and Bakthin’s aesthetics of
outsidedness allow for. It is arguably the success of Wongar’s fictions
that have seen him relegated, and in some cases attacked, by white
academics and critics. And furthermore, that this is a direct result of
them, like the rest of Wongar’s audience, looking back at Australia’s
relation with Aboriginal Australia not through the lens of White Same
or Black Other, but rather, as his name implies ‘through a Wongar,
darkly.’

Bibliography
Adams, R., Kohut, E., Webber, E., & Noyce, J. (1991). Is this Deliberate?
Australian Book Review (130), 8-9.
Bakhtin, M. M. (1990). Author and Hero in Aesthetic Activity (V. Lia-
punov, Trans.). In V. Liapunov & M.
Holquist (Eds.), Art and Answerability (pp. 4-257). Austin: University
of Texas Press.
Drewe, R. (1981, 21 April). Solved: The Great B. Wongar Mystery. The
Bulletin (Literary Supplement), 2-5. Erikson, E. (1975). Childhood and
Society (2nd ed.). Ringwood, Victoria: Penguin Books.
Gunew, S. (2003). Colonial Hauntings : The Colonial Seeds of Multi-
culturalism. In S. Gunew (Ed.),
Haunted Nations: The Colonial Dimensions of Multiculturalisms (pp.
33-50). New York (City), New York (State), United States of America
(USA): Routledge.
Hanrahan, J. (1992). Wongar Still Poses Some Problems. Australian
Book Review (138), 15-16. Holquist, M. (1990). Dialogism: Bakhtin and
his world. New york: Routledge.
Huggins, J. (1995). Untitled. Imago : New Writing, 7(1), 89-90.
Jannetta, A. (2001). Ethnopoetics of the Minority Voice: An Intro-
duction to the Politics of Dialogism and Difference in Metis Literature.
Augsburg: Wissner.
Keneally, T. (1978, 25/06/1978). The Soul of Things, Review, New York
Times, p. 1. Tordova, M. (1997). Imaging the Balkans. Oxford: Oxford
University Press. Wongar, B. (1999). Dingoes Den. Bondi Junction,
New South Wales: ETT Imprint.