Page updated:
Friday, 7 September 2007

PEOPLE making a difference - Robin Francis...

Persistence pays off at Djanbung

Getting there

So it is with relief that I leave the coach in Lismore's pre-dawn glow and step out in the refreshingly cool air to await the opening of a coffee shop. I watch the town come to life before boarding the bus to Nimbin.

Over the hill and into town

The driver, a man of middle age and happy in his work (unlike the driver of the coach) shifts down a gear as the bus climbs the low hill. We reach the crest and there, through the windscreen, is the fabled town of Nimbin.

Mythology is not reality and the reputation of the town, the perceptions held by outsiders, is part-truth, part-fable. The town might have a reputation as capital of the illicit substance culture but at the same time it is an ordinary country town. You see this in peope like the man who, at around seven every weekday morning, connects a hose to the water main and sweeps the street with it as though he were wielding a broom. An ordinary working man like you find in any city, any town. Nimbin really is no different.

The town is awake by eight. There are people about; cars drive along Cullen Street, carrying their passengers to their work; the first of the commuter buses leaves for Lismore. A few shops open and the cafe next to the bakery is serving breakfast. Another day in the life of this famous, or notorious, town unfolds quietly.

Down showground road

My destination lay about 15 minutes walk along the showground road. Lifting a pack containing a change of clothes, washing stuff and a couple Nikon bodies and lenses I set off. It is an easy walk but a sweat soon starts to build up.

You sight Djanbung Gardens as you round the bend just past the showgrounds. Entering between stands of tall, clumping bamboo, on the right is a cluster of train carriages arranged into a U-shape and on the left the hexagonal structure of the mudbrick teaching centre rises behind lotus-filled ponds.

Three train carriages arranged in a U-shape serve as accommodation at Djanbung Gardens

One of the carriages is home to Robyn Francis. Robyn owns Djanbung and has lived here since 1994. The remaining carriages are bunkroom, kitchen and shower to the students who come for Robyn's courses. An iron roof has been raised over the carriages to create a sheltered, outdoor living space - so important to comfort in this subtropical climate. Water tanks occupy the corners where the carriages meet and a Health Department approved composting toilet is located at the far end.

Over the years, what was a degraded, denuded paddock has been turned into a centre producing organic food and turning out students educated in the Permaculture design system. After an intensive couple weeks at Djanbung, they leave with ideas on developing their own homes as resource-conserving, food producing systems or with ideas to use in their community work or jobs.

Robyn Francis

Below Blue Knob, among the trees

We sit at a table on the open, north-facing side of the teaching centre. In the distance the rounded hump of Blue Knob takes on a blue several shades darker than the sky. Robyn lights one of those aromatic, Indonesian clove cigarettes and we talk of life at Djanbung.

"Staying cool is the priority here", she explains, gesticulating to the wide roof overhangs that protect the teaching area on its northern side. "Sure, it can be cold in winter - we have got down to minus five on occasion - but remaining cool in the heat of summer is the main adaptation you have to make to climate".

Robyn is a woman of practical disposition who parts her dark hair down the centre. Her skin is tanned from a life lived out of doors and she speaks with a slowness characteristic of rural people.

She takes a drag on her cigarette and explains how she zig-zagged her way to Djanbung. From the lower north coast she went to Sydney in the early 1980s. Here, she started her Permaculture teaching. Later in the decade she taught Permaculture overseas before moving to the NSW north coast. After a period in Lismore, in 1994 she made her way to what is now her Djanbung home where she set about developing a livelihood. It has been a struggle, Robyn admits, but she has persevered.

For some years now she has managed Djanbung's 2.5 hectares, mostly by herself, though sometimes she is helped by the people who exchange work for food and accommodation. It is a good arrangement, Robyn acknowledges, the visitors gaining experience while she gets help in keeping the grass down, feeding the mixed flock of chooks and maintaining the place in reasonable order.

A young Israeli woman staying at Djanbung, long dark hair and olive complexion, is typical of these visitors. In her early twenties and out to see the world, she is a native of the Negev Desert region. What would she carry home to those alien expanses of her experiences at Djanbung and elsewhere in Australia? As Robyn and I talk, she continues to separate seed from husk, preparing the seed for packaging and eventual replanting.

Despite the visitors, most of the responsibility of managing the small property falls to Robyn. It can get a little stressful, especially when she is running one of her courses.

Jalanbah

We take a walk through Jalanbah ecovillage which adjoins Robyn's land on its eastern boundary. Robyn had a hand in the design of Jalanbah and is clearly proud of her work.

Some locals were not so sure about the place, she tells me. They feared that the development, desite its environmental credentials, would bring in new people who would introduce change to the town and its unique culture. That these people - some of whom had moved into Nimbin during the 1970s as part of the 'alternative' culture and who had brought change so penetrating it completely altered the character of the town - should fear and oppose change, I find contradictory. Eventually, Robyn tells me, they accepted Jalanbah, their fears unfulfilled.

Robyn was involved in a plan to replicate the Jalanbah design in what are open fields bordering the town, however economic circumstances have led to the shelving of the scheme.

Local food, local cuisine

A small cafe occupies one side of the Djanbung teaching centre, next to the office/ shop where Robyn sells books, herbal (some of which she makes) and other products.

Here, she employs her skills in cooking, offering a modest but variable menu that makes use of local bush food plants. "My organic garden provides much of the cafe's vegetable needs and what I cannot produce I try to obtain from local sources", she says.

The chicken pens... a flock of mixed breeds contribute eggs to Robyn's cafe

"I make sauces from local bushfoods for use in the kitchen. I would really like to see a local cuisine develop in this region", she says with an emphasis that reveals that she has thought about it for more than a few idle minutes.

A local cuisine based on locally produced foods, Robyn believes, is something worth developing. That it has economic potential is evident in her menu, the tastes of which would be novel to most Australians and a far cry from the foods offered at most visitor venues.

A different place to visit

Djanbung Gardens (the 'D' is silent) - the name, Robyn explains, was given to her by local Aboriginal leaders and means 'platypus' - has become her life work, the place where she has settled to create a livelihood.

The place is unique among visitor sites on the NSW north coast. It is not a tourist site in the conventional meaning of the term, there is no pretention, no tourist glitz, no humbug and exaggeration - just simple, local food at a small property off the beaten track.

Visitors who want to know more about the place can arrange a cheap guided tour or take a self-guided walk around the property. It does not take long. The guided tour is more informative as you get some inkling of the integration of the different elements of the site's design. You can also arrange a guided walk around Jalanbah ecovillage.

All around, the green hills and blue ranges enfold the valley. It is easy to envy Robyn her morning view as she settles down to breakfast and gazes across to Blue Knob as it emerges from the mist.