Veronica Henderson may live in Capalaba in Brisbane’s eastern suburbs, but her heart beats with the rhythm of Bougainville. For the past three years, she’s been lovingly weaving the spirit of the Autonomous Region of Bougainville (AROB) into her local community through a joyful, hands-on cultural celebration called Bougainville Stori Taim.
Every year, children, families, and curious passersby gather under shady trees and open skies for a feast—not just of food, but of stories, songs, and the warmth of connection. Veronica, with her signature mix of humility and heart, has turned storytelling into a bridge between islands and generations.
Bougainville Stori Taim isn’t just a program. It’s an experience. One where little ones listen wide-eyed, elders nod knowingly, and everyone walks away with a little more understanding of Bougainville’s proud culture. Kids craft, sing, dance, and soak up stories like sunshine. Veronica’s grandchildren are always front row, cheering her on—as are a dozen or so young explorers eager to learn. The youngest that day was just two, and the eldest (guilty!) was a joyful 50 (that was me.)
Though a nurse by trade, Veronica is clearly a teacher in the ways that matter: with compassion, grace, and a talent for bringing people together. She began this year’s Stori Taim the way any Melanesian matriarch would—with prayer (mi pela lotu), gratitude, and reverence for land and legacy.
Before launching into the day’s festivities, Veronica gently guided the children to understand the deep significance of land—not just for Bougainvillean culture and Melanesian identity, but for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples as well. She made a point of acknowledging that we were gathering on Quandamooka Country, reminding us that this land has its own custodians, stories, and sacred history.
From there, we read Welcome to Country by Aunty Joy Murphy and Lisa Kennedy. Veronica shared how meaningful it was to honour the fact that we were not on our traditional land, and how this practice of acknowledgment aligns closely with Bougainvillean beliefs—that land is not just where we walk, but where our spirits are rooted.
The children were invited to share the names of their own islands and villages in Bougainville. Three proud brothers from Nissan Island described boat rides and ocean adventures from their family visits back home. We each received a Bougainville flag, and Veronica explained the rich symbolism woven into its design.
Even I learned something new: the blue represents the vast ocean cradling the island, the red and white Upe signifies a young man’s journey into adulthood, the black disc reflects the people of Bougainville, and the white disc—a kapkap made from mother-of-pearl—symbolizes traditional authority. The 24 equilateral triangles remind us of the deep, sacred relationship Bougainvilleans have with the land.
After our rousing lesson, we turned to a beloved village tradition: the sharing of garden produce. A woven basket was passed around, brimming with kaukau (sweet potato), taro, greens, and, of course, the mighty coconut. Veronica explained how, in our culture, bringing food from your garden is a gesture of love and connection when visiting family. We later tasted these gifts in a lunch that warmed both belly and heart.
We danced. We sang. We connected. And through it all, we honoured the vibrant thread of Bougainvillean culture that Veronica so lovingly stitches into her Brisbane community.
To Veronica—thank you for reminding us that home is not just where we live, but where our stories are shared. It lives in our hearts, stitched into our identity, no matter where in the world we find ourselves.
