In Australia, reports about Aboriginal people often make for depressing read

In Australia, reports about Aboriginal people often make for depressing reading. Just a few days ago, the latest official report on the community documented increases in child abuse, and a significantly lower life expectancy than that of other Australians. But on a pair of remote islands off the very northern tip of the continent, Aboriginal life is very different.
    From the outside, the church is perfectly ordinary looking. It was built in the 1930s and its white timber walls dazzle in the tropical sunshine. A cluster of palms and ancient mango trees provide shade at one end. At the top of a steep flight of wooden steps is the front door. It’s only when you enter that you realise this is no ordinary place of worship.
    The entire altar area is decorated with an extraordinary array of Aboriginal art work. The walls are covered in distinctive cross-hatched designs, and above them is a parade of animals—stingrays, crocodiles, turtles and pelicans. There’s a painting of the baby Jesus being held aloft by a bearded tribesman flanked by two lethal-looking spears. The warrior wears a head dress and a red loincloth. In front of that is a tabernacle made of tortoise shell and mother of pearl.
    The most unusual of churches is the focal point of the tiny town of Nguiu, on Bathurst Island. Bathurst and neighbouring Melville are together known as the Tiwi islands. They lie 80 kilometres north of Darwin, the capital of the Northern Territory. "My people have lived on the islands forever," John Munkara, a cheery local guide, tells me. "We were isolated for so long that we’re different to the Aborigines on the mainland." So different, in fact, that the Tiwis knew neither the didgeridoo nor the boomerang, and for thousands of years believed they were the only people on earth.
    In the past, the only contact the Tiwis had with the tribes across the water was when they took to their canoes and carried out raids to steal women. These days relations are a bit more genial, but the two and a half thousand Tiwis are still very different from their mainland cousins. You sense it as soon as you set foot on the, islands. In a lot of Aboriginal communities there’s an air of sullen hostility. You can hardly blame them—crime, domestic violence, unemployment and poor health are huge problems for many indigenous people. On the Tiwis, though, people smile as soon as they see you. Kids run alongside, adults wave and there’s a real warmth in the welcome.
    Part of the reason is that the supply of alcohol is strictly controlled. The only place you can get a drink is in the town’s social club. The other reason for the Tiwis’ culture remaining intact is their isolation. They have a long history of repelling outsiders—first Macassan traders who were after sea cucumbers, or beche-de-mer, and then Dutch explorers. The British established a settlement here in the 1820s but disease, the heat and the hostility of the locals drove them away after five years.