Stewards of the Land

First Nations Australians and Torres Strait Islander people should be aware that this website contains images, voices, and names of deceased persons.

Photos and story by James Roh

Post 2 of 6. The Dutjahn blog series shares the beauty of Australian First Nation Martu culture, traces the sandalwood used in the Pura x Dutjahn collection, and explores Pura’s partnership with K Farmer Dutjahn Foundation (KFDF). 

Clinton Farmer, Martu leader and KFDF Chairman, hosted members of the Pura team to connect with the community on Australian sandalwood lands, host a painting workshop, and discuss a shared vision for KFDF.

After an hour of bouncing around on a series of rugged tracks, Clinton stops the car at a seemingly nondescript spot and eagerly walks toward a tall stand of scraggly vegetation. Immediately, he kindly greets the tree by placing his hand on the trunk, as if seeing a loved one for the first time in a while. 

This is what Clinton calls a sandalwood Mother Tree. True to its name, it has provided for Martu people and their ancestral lands long before the first European colonists ever set foot in Australia. Dutjahn, the Martu word for sandalwood, was traditionally used for various purposes, including bush medicine and ceremonies. Around the campfire, burning sandalwood created a calming aroma that cleared the minds of elders, enabling them to prepare for negotiations with other tribes and better tell the critical stories that ensured survival in the harsh desert environment. 

Recalling a story he grew up hearing, Clinton isn’t sure he himself would even exist without sandalwood. When his father was just a young boy, Clinton’s grandmother successfully used sandalwood to ward off a spiritual attack that was threatening her son—its smoke offering a prayer for protection.

Though its bark is rough and weathered, this specific Mother Tree has a presence in generations of oral history, indicating that it has been alive and well for around 500 years, making it one of the oldest sandalwood trees in the world. Because of its resounding resiliency and strong DNA, Clinton uses seeds from this Mother Tree and others like it to replenish the desert after harvesting younger sandalwood trees. 

Not far from the Mother Tree, Clinton walks through the bush, dodging massive spider webs along the way. Stopping, he reaches down and once again tenderly greets a plant. This time, rather than several centuries old, these waist-high plants are relatively young at 10 years old. 

While telling the story of this wild sandalwood grove, a sense of pride emerges from Clinton’s voice. His father, Ken Farmer, planted these sandalwood trees before he passed. Regenerating the land was a central tenet of Clinton’s childhood and a constant during their time on Martu land, known as Country. And now, a decade later, his father’s ethos lives on through the slow-growing but healthy trees shimmering in the fading light of the Australian Outback. 

“Even though it's the most harsh environment, that’s where sandalwood grows,” Clinton says. “We know it's going to be there for the future […] because that's the way we care for the land.”

Of course, this process of caring for the land didn’t start with Clinton’s father. It began tens of thousands of years ago as the nomadic Martu ancestors, collectively referred to as the “Old People,” navigated the harsh landscape and became intimately familiar with its nuances, changes, and needs. Sustainability wasn’t a buzzword back then, it was a way of life that ensured survival for future generations. It was their duty to care for Country. This interdependence between all living things is the backbone of Martu’s spiritual connection to Country.

As the high demand for fragrant sandalwood continues throughout the world, the immediate payoffs for mass harvesting of the keystone tree have been all too alluring to resist for industry and government. Overharvesting practices of wild sandalwood are leading to what scientists describe as a surefire path to extinction of the native species in the near future. It has already disappeared in some parts of Australia’s Western Desert. 

But on Martu ancestral land, the sandalwood trees—young and old—are in good hands because of Clinton and other Indigenous leaders advocating for traditional land management practices and the critical role that sandalwood plays in maintaining healthy Country. 

Using a combination of geo-tagging traceability tools and a mental map of the land that no outsider could ever fathom, Clinton identifies different harvesting sites to start the season. He says the first one is “nearby.” However, distance is relative on Martu land and it takes several hours of driving to get there. 

In order to extract the precious sandalwood oil, Clinton explains that the entire tree has to be harvested, but in its wake, the next generation will grow. Sure enough, mere seconds after one tree is uprooted, gloved hands reach into a bucket, and the brown, marble-shaped Mother Tree seeds are sprinkled into the hole. Nature will take it from there. 

Before a tree is harvested, however, the team checks to ensure that no birds are nesting in its canopy and that no small animals are living among its root system. They prioritize trees for harvesting that are mature and have endured stress. The harsh environment is reflected in the intense fragrance held in the tree’s heartwood. The team’s careful stewardship and regenerative practices have helped multiple endangered species, like the bilby, rebound in the region. 

As a rule, at least 30% of sandalwood trees in a given area will remain in the ground during harvest. Once the crew packs up and leaves a site, they will not harvest there again for almost a decade, allowing the 30% to mature and the freshly buried seeds to regenerate the land.

“You don't be greedy and take too much, you take what you need to survive,” Clinton explains, referring not just to sandalwood but all of Country’s resources. “It's there for the future. It becomes a curse when you take too much.”

One-for-one regeneration, however, isn’t always adequate in a time of constant increased environmental threats. Invasive camels introduced during Colonial times munch on sandalwood saplings, climate change is causing unpredictable weather, and the threatened burrowing bettongs, a once abundant and critical seed disperser, is now a vulnerable species thanks to feral cats and foxes. 

Once again, Clinton and other Martu leaders have carefully considered all of these changes. Through the K Farmer Dutjahn Foundation’s Youth Ranger program, teenagers are brought on Country to plant sandalwood seeds year-round, learn traditional land management and preservation practices from elders, and gain critical bush survival and navigational skills with the help of knowledge passed down by oral history. 

This initiative is part of the KFDF’s multi-pronged strategy to ensure Martu and other Indigenous youth are equipped to protect Country, preserve their cultural heritage, and lead long into the future. 

Several months into the harvesting season, Clinton takes a series of photos. In them, he is pictured on Country, sporting a bug net to protect against the relentless flies and kneeling on the ground with an outstretched arm. 

Tiny green shoots of leaves burst out from the red dirt. The seeds that his crew planted on the first day are healthy. The next generation of Dutjahn Sandalwood is alive and well.