Tim Hammond (Perth, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

It really is a tremendous privilege to rise to acknowledge the passing of Dr G Yunupingu today on the International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples, of all days. Dr G Yunupingu lived such an incredibly full life that touched so many of us in so many different ways. He was taken from us altogether too soon at the age of 46 on 25 July this year.

For those who are not familiar with Dr G Yunupingu's musical work, I will take them, if I may, through a very, very brief discography of albums of his which were very close to my heart. I will set out very briefly in this place the reasons for that. He was a wonderful singer-songwriter of the most unique talents I have ever heard in relation to both his ability to convey such meaning through his music, regardless of whether one had any real sense of his traditional language or not, and his inspirational guitar playing. He played a traditional right-handed guitar upside down and left-handed, as he was left-handed. For those who are not aware, Dr G Yunupingu was born blind. I would like to come back to that a little bit later on as well.

In about 2008 he released his first album, which was a self-titled album. Out of respect to his family and his culture I won't repeat the name of the album, but I would thoroughly impress upon any of those listening or reading this later in Hansard to do themselves a favour and get a copy of that album. It is truly remarkable. A couple of the early tracks on that album set the scene for the evocative nature of Dr G Yunupingu's words, such as Wiyathul, Bapa or History (I Was Born Blind). If any of you have the opportunity to take a trip, particularly across the top end of our country, and drive through the red dirt heading through either East Kimberley or Arnhem Land, just do one thing for me—or one thing, more to the point, for Dr Yunupingu's family and foundation—listen to those tunes as you take in the most remarkable piece of countryside. I defy anyone not to be profoundly affected by just how powerful his music was. That album was both a critical and commercial success and certainly set the stage for a remarkable piece of musicology to be played throughout the country and throughout the world. That was followed up by another tremendously successful album, called Rrakala. I hope I have done justice to the pronunciation of Dr G Yunupingu's second album. That was followed by many more pieces of music of critical acclaim.

There were just two moments when I personally had the great privilege of meeting this great man, both of which were really quite profound in their own ways. The first was many years ago in a tiny little obscure art studio in the west end of Fremantle where he was doing a gig for a charitable foundation. I cannot remember the precise name of the foundation. But the way in which he filled this small studio with his presence and his music was something that I will never forget. It made the hair on the back of my neck and on my arms stand up right from the start of his gig to the end of it. I couldn't believe just how he had the ability to draw everyone in to his music, most of it—almost all of it—sung in traditional language and in a very gentle tone. You could hear a pin drop through almost the entire gig.

The presence that he had was then replicated a couple of years later, when, again, acknowledging his foundation, the Yunupingu Foundation, he had a gig on the lawns of Kings Park. What was really interesting about that was that it was a very similar gig with similar music, again from his self-titled album and some other albums, but he drew everyone in. There were thousands and thousands of people sitting on that lawn, and he had precisely the same effect, telling his dahwul, which, as I understand, is traditional language for 'his story'. He had that presence again. It was so unique, it was so earthy, it was so heartfelt and it was so authentic that it impressed upon me like very few artists ever have.

Dr G Yunupingu didn't just touch us all and his community through his music. Mr Michael Hohnen, his long-term musical collaborator, partner and friend, told me earlier today about the inception of the Yunupingu Foundation. As I understand it, Dr G Yunupingu and Michael were in a studio in some wonderful surrounds in New York and Dr G Yunupingu reflected upon how he felt so incredibly lucky to be able do what he loved, to be able to express how he felt, to thousands, if not millions, of people around the world, and here he was, a million miles away from his traditional lands and in New York. He remarked to Michael, 'How is it that I have come to enjoy this life and others can't?' From that the Yunupingu Foundation was born. The Yunupingu Foundation—and I would encourage all of you to have a look at it on the website—simply seeks to empower Aboriginal Australians, kids in particular, to reach their goals and to reach their full potential through the ability of music and, in particular, to promote and celebrate traditional music and to ensure that every kid is given the opportunity to express themselves and what they are feeling and what they are hearing: warpum bukmak, which is 'everywhere to everyone' in traditional language.

From there, the foundation grew. In acknowledgement and celebration of Dr G Yunupingu's life, we have the ability now to draw inspiration from what he's done, to support the foundation, and I would encourage all of you to simply do that, to ensure not only that Dr G Yunupingu's music lives on in all of us, everywhere all the time, but that the Dr G Yunupingus of the future get a similar chance to sit in that studio in New York with life-long collaborators to bring their unique sound to the world.

I am pleased to say that, again, the legacy that Dr G Yunupingu has left will continue at the appropriate time, harking back to that gig in Kings Park, where we heard some new music for the first time. At an appropriate time, with the appropriate amount of grieving to be had, as I understand matters, there will be forthcoming music from Dr G Yunupingu that we can continue to enjoy. But I struggle to get past the lyrics of his 'History (I was Born Blind)', on that first self-titled album, which is sung both in language but also in English. The words are telling. He sings:

united we stand, divided we fall

together we'll stand, in solidarity

It just says so much about what he achieved during his short time on this earth in bringing people together, of all cultures, of all tongues, in music—all over the world, from Barack Obama to the Queen, to those living in outback communities, to some bloke in Perth that he'd never met in his entire life, who was completely transfixed by his music, to all of us. So, to Dr G Yunupingu's family and friends, we use this time in this place to appropriately acknowledge the tremendous and unique work that you brought forward in the past, right now in the present and most certainly into the future. Condolences to Dr G Yunupingu. It was a great privilege to be able to stand here and tell his dahwul, or his story.

Cathy O'Toole (Herbert, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

It is with great sadness and respect that I rise in this place today, International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples, on what is first-nation peoples' land and will always be first-nation peoples' land. In doing so, I want to acknowledge the traditional owners of the land upon which we stand, the Ngunnawal people, and I would like to pay my respects to their elders past, present and emerging. I would also like to acknowledge the Galiwinku people, the traditional owners of Arnhem Land—the land from which Dr G Yunupingu came—and pay my respects to their leaders past, present and emerging.

On 26 July 2017, Australia lost a truly remarkable man who was an Australian legend and who was also a first-nation man. We lost a first-nation man whose voice was unique—a voice that crossed boundaries, a voice that sent a very powerful message about Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander rights, and a voice and a message that will live on into eternity. I, like so many others, was deeply touched by the ethereal voice of Dr G Yunupingu. It was only last Saturday morning that I heard a rendition of Amazing Grace, which is one of my favourite songs, on the radio, and he was singing and playing. He rose to fame with Yothu Yindi, and went on to have a very successful solo career.

Born blind, Dr G Yunupingu first picked up a guitar at the age of six and, incredibly—being left-handed—he learned to play it upside down. His unique voice spawned a career that saw him sell more than half a million albums recorded in his native Yolngu language; and perform for audiences around the world, including Queen Elizabeth II and former US President Barack Obama. Having hit triple platinum in Australia and silver in the UK, having charted in multiple other countries across the globe and having won a string of ARIA awards, Dr G Yunupingu is the highest selling first-nation artist in history and one of the most important figures in Australian music.

Many people will remember Dr G Yunupingu for his extraordinary, amazing voice, but his community will also remember him for his strong activism. We pay our respects to a man who was famous in the music world internationally but who was also denied a ride in a taxi because of the colour of his skin. Dr G Yunupingu gave back to his community, as he was the driving force behind the G Yunupingu Foundation, creating opportunities for youth across the Northern Territory. Given Dr G Yunupingu's strong activism and hard work for first-nation peoples' rights, it would be unjust of me to stand in this place and not continue speaking on the fight for first-nation peoples' rights and recognition.

The loss of Australia's most prominent musician, Dr G Yunupingu, to kidney disease has shone a light on what some doctors are describing as a largely preventable renal health nightmare afflicting remote communities. Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are up to seven times more likely to need treatment for chronic illnesses than non-Indigenous Australians, and the inequality in transplants is horrifying. It is 25 years since former Prime Minister Paul Keating's infamous and moving Redfern speech, where he compared a non-Indigenous patient in Surry Hills, Sydney, and a first-nation patient of the same age and illness in Redfern, right next door: the first-nation patient had a third of a chance of a kidney transplant. This fact is a blemish on governments and our health systems. More than 25 years on, as elected representatives we must have an honest look in the mirror and reflect upon what genuine change has occurred in closing the gap for our first-nation people.

I am proud to represent the Herbert electorate, which has a large first-nation population and includes Palm Island—one of the largest discrete Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities in Australia. Dr Yunupingu's passing is a time to reflect on the first-nation community that I represent and the inequality that the Palm Island community faces. Access to health services is harder for the Bwgcolman people than for people on the mainland. Unemployment rates are significantly higher; access to housing is incredibly difficult; and the cost of living is astronomical, as is the case in most communities in the Northern Territory. As elected representatives we must do more for our first-nation people. If we say that we are an inclusive community, then we must actually acknowledge that there are communities being left behind—communities that need to be engaged and respected to move forward in a positive and meaningful way.

To lose an Australian legend at age 46 to an illness that could have been prevented is completely unacceptable, especially when it is related to the colour of his skin and the location of his community and home. This is a national tragedy. What is even sadder is that this has not just happened once; it is happening today. Whilst we pay due respect to an Australian legend who happened to be a first-nation man and had a voice that was truly extraordinary, we must also remember to commit to addressing the health inequality in this country. As elected representatives we must listen to and work with our first-nation communities. We must strive every day to ensure we are closing the gap on inequality for our first-nation people.

I pay deep respect and offer my sympathy to Dr G Yunupingu's family. May his legacy, through his voice, song and message, live on.

Emma Husar (Lindsay, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I rise to pay respect to Dr G Yunupingu. I would like to acknowledge that we are meeting on the lands of the Ngunnawal people, and I pay respect to them. On this important day, International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples, I feel so privileged and honoured to be doing so. I rise to echo the comments made by my colleagues the member for Perth and the member for Herbert on Dr G Yunupingu's passing, and I rise to pay respect to a community that lost not only a great man but a great musician, whose life has been cut unreasonably short.

He was a man who achieved so much with so little to start with—nine ARIA award nominations, five ARIA awards, Northern Territory's Australian of the Year in 2009, an honorary degree of Doctor of Music from the University of Sydney in 2012 and 2016 Artist of the Year at the NAIDOC Awards. Yunupingu represented the soul of original language and music of Indigenous communities. He brought the Northern Territory to the world, and he could play any instrument and sing like an angel. Yunupingu started his music by playing guitar upside down because he was left-handed. But, even with all of those achievements to his credit, we find ourselves here today mourning his premature death at age 46. Indigenous disadvantage is a scourge on our society. As Bill Shorten said yesterday:

It is the hard truth of Australia's unfinished business that this superstar could delight a packed house and be refused a cab ride home afterwards.

Dr Yunupingu's death came about from complications from contracting hepatitis B as a child, a disease that can be vaccinated against. Indigenous Australians are up to seven times more likely to need treatment for chronic illness than non-Indigenous Australians; and when it comes to renal health, a largely preventable disease, the figures are much worse. In a recent story in TheSydney Morning Herald, Dr Yunupingu's specialist, Dr Lawton, noted:

Compared to a non-indigenous patient in Surry Hills in Sydney, an indigenous patient with the same age and illness in Redfern right next door has a third of the chance of a kidney transplant …

An indigenous patient from east Arnhem … has a 10th of the chance of transplantation of a non-indigenous person from east Arnhem.

In remote areas of Australia, end-stage kidney disease is up to 20 times higher for Indigenous Australians than it is for non-Indigenous Australians. We see the figures; we know the gaps. But what is happening?

I recently attended the rally in Alice Springs and had the opportunity to visit the Santa Teresa community, approximately 100 kilometres south-east of Alice Springs. The Santa Teresa community is not as remote as some others, but it brought home to me that the things that are simple for people in our metropolitan communities are not so simple for their communities—like water, a very basic necessity. The community had an orchard, and, by all accounts, one that was providing self-sufficiency. One day, a pipe got a leak. It went unnoticed until the town's water bill arrived. Of course, it was quite a shock, and it couldn't be paid. What do you think the local government's decision was to deal with the issue? They disconnected the water. Now they have no orchard. Could you imagine that happening in the city and the outrage that would ensue, even in a community like mine? If this is the response on something so fundamental, then how are more complex matters being handled—matters like preventive health, job creation, education and family services?

The Prime Minister handed down the Closing the Gap report in 2017, which shows the redoubling effort we absolutely need to make. The target to close the gap in life expectancy by 2031 is nowhere near on track. The Indigenous rate of mortality from cancer, the second-leading cause of death, is rising and the gap is widening, not closing. The target to halve the gap in reading and numeracy for Indigenous students by 2018 is also not on track. The latest data shows that, of the eight areas measured—reading and numeracy for years 3, 5, 7 and 9—only one, year 9 numeracy, is on track for Indigenous Australians. The target to halve the gap in employment by 2018 is also not on track, while there has been an increase in the Indigenous employment rate since 1994, there has been a decline since 2008. In 2014-15 the Indigenous employment rate was 48.4 per cent, compared with 72.6 per cent for non-Indigenous Australians. Geography is an important factor in Indigenous employment. In 2014-15, 35.1 per cent of Indigenous people of working age in very remote areas were employed, compared with 57.5 per cent of those in major cities.

We see these top-line figures and we see the inequality and disadvantage. But the stark reminder is the individual story, and Dr G Yunupingu's story represents that stark reminder. Dr G Yunupingu was trapped in a cycle of bad health from contracting hepatitis B which left him with liver and kidney disease; his death would have been preventable in most circumstances. Research conducted as part of Closing the Gap was clear: the poorer health of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people when compared to the non-Indigenous population is no secret. And something can be done about it. It takes will. The facts are that growing up as an Aboriginal child in remote Australia, Dr Yunupingu was less likely to receive the basic healthcare that other Australian children enjoy. As an adult, he suffered the complications of hepatitis B, a disease that can be avoided, by a simple vaccination. It was some irony that this year's NAIDOC theme—Our Language Matters—highlights the protection and regeneration needed for Aboriginal languages. It is an important theme, because it celebrates the unique and essential role that Aboriginal language plays in cultural identity.

Dr Yunupingu's highlighting of language through his music was vital. Yunupingu contributed so much to language, music and culture, not just to the Australian Aboriginal community but to the broader community. This should be treasured and honoured. Language links people to their land and water and is part of the communication of history, spirituality and rituals through stories and songs. In Aboriginal traditions across the country people sing to maintain connections, to have fun and to preserve traditions.

Yolngu Matha is the name of a group of languages and dialects that are among the last 13 or so groups of languages that are still strong and are spoken by all generations in their communities for all purposes identified in the most comprehensive survey of Australian languages in 2014. They are the last of what is now estimated to be as many as 407 languages. We must preserve language and build on it, and music plays a vital role. Dr Yunupingu's music draws on ancient stories of his people that resonate across all human experience. Out of this terrible demise, however, is the opportunity to re-dedicate ourselves to finishing and answering the hard truths.

We have lost an inspiring and passionate leader, an artist and advocate for our endangered Aboriginal Australian languages, because his health was compromised through entirely preventable diseases. My heartfelt condolences to his family and friends. May he rest in peace.

Warren Snowdon (Lingiari, Australian Labor Party, Shadow Parliamentary Secretary for External Territories) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

Firstly, let me acknowledge the Ngunawal and Ngambri traditional owners of the country on which we are speaking today. I do that because of my respect for them but most particularly because I am now addressing the parliament about the death of a great Australian, a Gumatj leader, Dr G Yunupingu from Galiwinku in north-east Arnhem Land. I want to thank the members for Perth, Herbert and Lindsay for their contributions, all of which I listened to.

Others have traversed his musical genius. I will touch on it very briefly. We know that, born blind, he began experimenting as a small child with sticks on a drum, with an empty can. His uncle then provided him with a guitar, which he learned to play, but upside-down, which of itself would be a difficult thing to do. He became known to us, thankfully, all across the world for his magnificence as a musician, singer and songwriter. I don't think anyone could not be touched by his music and by his wonderful voice. Very few people, I think, could actually make the impression that he did on the world, speaking and singing a language that the rest of the world didn't understand, but he did.

His debut album, Gurrumul, sold half a million copies, as a self-titled album, reaching triple platinum in Australia. His second solo album, Rrakala, released in April 2011, hit platinum, and the cover of Rolling Stone magazine in 2011 declared Dr Yunupingu 'Australia's most important voice'. His angelic voice connected with listeners worldwide, as I said, including phenomenally good musicians in their own right, such as Elton John and Sting. He got to perform for world leaders, singing in the Yolgnu Matha languages of north-east Arnhem Land. He won a swathe of ARIA and Deadly awards. In 2009, he was named Northern Territory Australian of the Year. He joined a select group of musicians who have performed for the Queen, the Pope and President Obama. Mark Grose, the managing director of his record company, Skinnyfish Music, said he finally remembered the moment he told Dr Yunupingu that he had been asked to play for Barack Obama. Dr Yunupingu responded, 'Who?' That of itself says a lot, but we need to understand that his life was more than just the sum of its parts.

His life will forever have an imprint upon us because not only his music but his life story and because the way that he, as a Yolngu man, was treated—or mistreated—by the health system. A story by Vicki Kerrigan of ABC Radio Darwin last year, headed, 'Dr Yunupingu mistreated in Darwin Hospital for 8 hours with internal bleeding, management says,' relates the way in which Dr Yunupingu was treated—or, as I say, mistreated—by the professionals at Darwin Hospital:

Mr Grose said Yunupingu had been taken to emergency via an ambulance about 9:00pm on Easter Sunday.

He had been accompanied by Mr Grose as well as his private nurse, Michelle Dowden, and the pair left the singer with the expectation he would be urgently undergoing a "simple surgery" to rectify the bleeding.

"Our assumption was that he would have a very minor operation to stop internal bleeding, and we went home confident in the knowledge that everything was under control, and we would go back and see him the next day," Mr Grose said.

Mr Grose has made a formal complaint to the chief executive of the NT Department of Health alleging Yunupingu was then, for some unknown reason, left in the rapid assessment unit for eight hours without an attempt to stop the bleeding.

"He vomited blood again [at 8:00am], which means for hours his condition was essentially deteriorating, and from my perspective, bleeding to death," Mr Grose said.

Instead of being operated on, the assumption that Mark Grose has of that occasion is that he was deemed to be an alcoholic, which he wasn't.

That says a lot about the nature of the health care that many Aboriginal people around this country experience. One of the issues that confront those of us in positions of leadership and in positions to influence policy is the inherent racism that still exists, and the way in which many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people experience the services they should have, as other Australians have, without being discriminated against because of who they are or the colour of their skin. In this case, it's alleged, assumptions were made about Dr Yunupingu that are, clearly, wrong. The care assumptions were made based upon his race. This was categorically rejected, and you might expect it to be, by Professor Dinesh Arya, Executive Director of Medical Services at Top End Health Service.

He recovered from that, ultimately, but it should never have happened. And others have spoken about the fact that he'd had hep B as a young bloke and, effectively, had died because of liver and renal failure. I am told he decided that the end had come and he didn't want to undertake any more treatment. Later I will speak about another person. Dr Yunupingu is the example for many who have entirely preventable diseases that are the result of who they are and where they live. They die far too early not because of their own action but because of the environment in which they live and the services available to them.

Renal disease is growing at an exponential rate across Australia, particularly in remote Australia, and unless we change the way we deal with renal failure and kidney disease incidents like this that we are discussing tonight will ever increase. So when we contemplate Dr Yunupingu's contribution to the world of music, it was extraordinary. It could have been a lot more had he lived longer. And he should have. We can take from that this lesson: we have it within us the capacity to do things to change the way in which people are dealt with in their communities across regional and remote Australia.

I know Galiwinku well; I know the Gumatj clan very well. I know his relations, his family. Many of them have suffered from the same renal disease. We have to do it a lot better. I was heartened to hear the Leader of the Opposition, yesterday, support the push for an MBS item number for remote renal dialysis. This is very important. Unless we understand the rights of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people, wherever they live, to have access to first-class services and to give them the treatment they require—let alone addressing the prevention side—we will have more Australians dying prematurely.

We have a lot more to do in this space. We as politicians, as parliamentarians, as members of this great society of ours, as leaders, have it within us to make a difference. And we should. He certainly did, and he had an impact upon all of us. May he rest in peace.

Tony Zappia (Makin, Australian Labor Party, Shadow Parliamentary Secretary for Manufacturing) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I join my parliamentary colleagues in paying tribute to Dr G Yunupingu. As we have heard, he passed away late last month in Royal Darwin Hospital at the young age of 46. I didn't know Dr G personally, but I knew of him and I knew of his music. Dr G was an extraordinary Australian. Originating from the remote Galiwinku community, on Elcho Island off the coast of Arnhem Land, and as the member for Lingiari said, blind from birth, Dr G Yunupingu went on to become one of Australia's most celebrated musicians. Few musicians of this country ever get to perform in front of the audiences that Dr G was invited to perform before. It's an honour that few can claim and one that speaks about the importance of his music and the high regard in which he was held not only in this country but across the world.

Dr G's music had a uniqueness that resonated across the world and transcended cultural and national boundaries. His music had meaning. It touched those who listened to it, even though in many cases they probably couldn't understand the language. You can feel the music within you when you listen to music well performed. The former member of this House and Midnight Oil lead singer Peter Garrett described Dr G Yunupingu as a truly great musician. I know Peter knew him personally, and for him to say that is testimony to the calibre of the person we are talking about.

I note that it's extraordinary how many Indigenous Australians have displayed outstanding talents, particularly in the arts, in music and in sports. They have done that despite their disadvantage and the many barriers they continue to face. Their achievements are a real credit to them. Only very few people ever rise to national or international fame. To do so when the odds are stacked against you makes the achievement so much more unique. Can I say, to all of those people who have done that in the face of adversity, that their achievements show just how effective the arts, music and sport can be in bringing people of different backgrounds together and in doing so overcoming cultural prejudice. I have seen time and time again where people who might otherwise be considered to have a particular bias towards one cultural group or another totally lose that when they begin to support and admire a person that has achieved great things and represents their whole community or their country. In fact it was Nelson Mandela who said that he could bring his country together through sports.

What made Dr G Yunupingu's music so powerful and appealing was that he maintained his own heritage right throughout it. And he was able to bridge the cultural divide of the very different communities he was performing to. Yet, like so many of his own people, Dr G Yunupingu lived with the daily social disadvantage that Indigenous Australians have endured for years and which Australian governments of all persuasions have tried but unsuccessfully been able to overcome. What is extraordinary about Dr G Yunupingu is that he remained with his people and in his lands until the end. He could have chosen a different life. He could have moved away to where he might have had more support in terms of his health needs, and he didn't. He stayed amongst his people because that's where he felt he belonged.

The very disadvantage that he endured to reach great heights was the disadvantage that ultimately cost him his life. Perhaps, and I don't want to dwell on this because my comments are about him, if there is some good to come from his passing it is that his passing will bring a renewed commitment to and focus on overcoming the health and social disadvantage of the Indigenous people, particularly those who live in the remote parts of Australia. Dr G Yunupingu's life has passed but his music, and through his music his presence, will endure with us for years to come. His life will inspire others, as I am sure it already has, and he has made his people and the Australian people proud. To Dr G Yunupingu's family, to his friends and to his people, I extend my deep condolences.

Linda Burney (Barton, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I rise with my colleagues to pay my respects to Dr G Yunupingu in this very important condolence motion in this chamber. Before I do that, can I recognise country, and also the country of Dr G Yunupingu. The member for Lingiari has painted a picture of Galiwinku and the Gumatj clan, from which Dr G Yunupingu came. Just prior to having this opportunity to pay my respects I had a meeting with Amnesty International, and they asked me to pass on their regards. In fact, one of the young men in that delegation was Dylan Voller, and he particularly wanted me to mention that at the beginning of this discussion.

I had the pleasure, as many of you did, of meeting Dr G Yunupingu and of seeing his performances live. The last time that that took place was in 2015 in Canada, of all places, in Vancouver. I was at an international Indigenous peoples conference on housing. The person that organised that was a Canadian First Nations man called Andrew Lee. Andrew had spent some time in Australia and had heard, I think on radio or he had a tape, of Dr G Yunupingu's work, and he made it his life mission to make sure that Dr G sang, along with his band, at that event in Canada. There were about 500 or 600 Indigenous peoples from all over the world. That is where I actually met Dr G Yunupingu and his family. He was a very quiet man, a very humble man, and was steeped deeply in his Yolngu culture, but when he sang you could hear a pin drop in the room. No-one in that room knew who he was, except the Australian delegation, I think, but it was just the most magical evening. I think many people have spoken of the quality of his music and of his voice. It was from another world. Whether you were religious or not, you could picture angels when he sang, because it was very much the voice of angels. He captivated the audience that night with his voice and his stories. He captivated it not just with the quality of his voice and his music but with the fact that he communicated so beautifully with all of us—no matter who we were or who we are—in his language. That was just the magic of that music: you could just listen and the sound seeped into you. He brought a first-Australian language to mainstream Australia. Of course, as others have said, it wasn't just to mainstream Australia: he sang for the world.

This was a man who was probably one of the most remarkable musicians this country has ever seen and will ever see, and yet he died at the age of 46 from a largely preventable disease. That is the irony of why this condolence motion is so important. It seemed remarkable, didn't it? He could sing for presidents, for queens, for leaders of country and yet meet with an end that is not an unusual end. That is the point of this story, that the death of a young Aboriginal man from end-stage renal failure is not an unusual story. It brought to me a very personal story of one of my dearest friends—exactly the same story. His name was Michael Riley of the Wiradjuri people. He was recognised worldwide as one of the most creative and best photographers in the world. Yet despite the fact that he lived in Glebe, despite the fact that he lived two or three kilometres from the hospital in Camperdown, he met with the same fate. In fact, Lynette Riley and I sat with Michael in the intensive care ward until the early hours of the morning, when he passed away. Dr Yunupingu of course was born blind and had to deal with liver and kidney complications for years. As the member for Lingiari said, in the end he practised the greatest act of self-determination, by making a decision that he'd had enough.

It leaves us with the challenge of how this can happen in a first-world nation. We have spoken about this, I know, and everyone is well intentioned, but—political leaders, activists, whoever we are—we have to face up to this living and painful truth and the painful reality. The health gap between first nations peoples and non-Indigenous Australians is not closing. It is not closing. The warnings of the tsunami coming down the track, which we heard up in Arnhem Land on the weekend and we have heard in the press this week, of Aboriginal people and kidney disease are a reality. In fact, I don't think it's a tsunami coming down the track; I think it's a tsunami that we are swirling around in and is pulling us out into the ocean right now.

We know that the Australian Institute of Health and Welfare has found that about 40 per cent of diseases in Indigenous Australians are preventable. As I said, the member for Lingiari and many of us were up in Gama on the weekend, and we heard from Dr Yunupingu's specialist, Dr Paul Lawton, who spoke of the challenge that many Indigenous Australians with kidney disease face—that is, the need to travel many hundreds of kilometres for treatment, away from community, away from family, away from culture and away from everything that sustains you. And this is not just a story in the NT; it is a story right across this country. People living in Bourke, people living in many more regional and remote communities, have to travel to places like Alice Springs, like Darwin, like Dubbo, like Tamworth and like, I am sure, many other places in Queensland and South Australia, often with a broken heart, because to leave culture, to leave family, to leave kinship structures, to leave ceremonies is to leave part of you behind. With Dr G Yunupingu's death and his story may we all reflect on and remember the work that we here in this parliament still have to do to close that gap.

As I said, when you are involved with the Aboriginal community, as we all are, you go to lots of funerals. In many ways, it is just incredible. People say, 'The only time I ever see you anymore is at funerals.' I think this is a reality that we have to face up to. I have seen school children and young people ashamed of their Aboriginality and be made to feel ashamed of their Aboriginality because of what has been put forward in the media, but because of people like Dr G Yunupingu young people are proud of culture, proud of story and proud of history and see themselves as a future. They aspire to participate, to achieve and to contribute, and that is because of the inspiration of people like Dr G Yunupingu.

Can I just finish up by saying that whilst at Gama last week, during the opening ceremony, there was the most emotional and remarkable tribute by the Yunupingu family and the Gumatj clan to Dr G. It was just a privilege to be there and be part of it. At the end of it, part of what happened was that we all stood with each other and held each other's hands and held them up while a song was being sung. Of course, the wailing of the women that were close to him put into all of our hearts that wail and that sadness. We have seen the passing of a remarkable young man who should not have died. It is within our grasp to do something about that. For heaven's sake, let's do something about it.