Naru: How Amber Hamer is Building First Nations Surfing in Australia

When Biripi Bundjalung surfer Amber Hamer was born, the surf was pumping. So when her family left the hospital they headed straight to a point break on the Mid North Coast of New South Wales so her father Eric Mercy could go surfing. Eric was a sponsored surfer and part of a pioneering group of Aboriginal surfers in Australia who brought First Nations connection to sea Country into the world of surfing.

“On my mum’s side I am Biripi Woromi and on my dad’s side Bundjalung.” Amber says, “Surfing was my dad’s doing, he just lived and breathed surfing which was transferred onto myself and my brother. It’s the super cliche thing that it’s been gifted to me but it really has been a massive gift, with the lifestyle and learning and creating opportunities. I've gotten to do some pretty cool stuff from a really young age based on my enthusiasm and my love of surfing.”

“My dad and a bunch of other Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander surfers entered the state of origin event at Burleigh Point many moons ago in the early '90s. There were all the states, and they were the Originals, so that was pretty cool. They were part of a movement of Aboriginal surfers coming out and taking their place in the world.”

In the late 1990s Amber’s dad Eric travelled to Hawaii along with a group of surfers as part of a cultural exchange between First Nations Australian surfers and Da Hui. During the trip a young member of the Australian delegation was the victim of a hit and run and did not survive. When Eric returned home, Amber believes he felt a sense of responsibility for the young man’s death and the expectation of men in that era (and still) to bury emotions delivered a tragic outcome. In 1997 the beloved surfer Eric, pillar of his family and community, took his own life. Still today no one has been held accountable for that young man’s death in Hawaii.

During Eric’s life he made boards under the label Naru, which is derived from the Gumbaynggirr word for water. Gumbaynggirr is the nation in the Coffs Harbour region, home to renowned surfers like Otis Carey and the place where Amber grew up. From what is thought to be 1989, Eric was shaping boards and holding local gatherings for the Aboriginal surfers in the area. Twenty years after his death, in 2017, Amber and her brother James decided to commemorate his life by creating a surf festival called Naru Surf Gathering for First Nations people, sharing the healing power of the ocean and raising money for charity. Since then, it has become the biggest Aboriginal surfing event in the country and now includes community surf days throughout the year, giving hundreds of First Nations young people the chance to experience surfing.

“One of [the Gumbaynggirr] totems is Gaagal, so ocean,” Amber says. “It’s one of the things people will openly have a yarn about, how the ocean is a really big part of all the stories and Culture on Gumbaynggirr Country and that obviously extends to us.” The Gumbaynggirr nation neighbours the Yaegl and Bundjalung nations to the north, which cover the areas around Yamba and Byron Bay and to the south lies Dhanggati and Biripi, the area around Crescent Head.

“There’s a bunch of stories in Gumbaynggirr Country about Yuludarla, which is the great ancestor being, about how Yuludarla came to put the language into the land and basically it starts up in Bundjalung Country, then down to Yaegl, Gumbaynggirr then Dhanggati, Biripi, Worimi and so on. It’s the same for my mum’s family, super connected to the ocean, spiritually and culturally, my family on both sides,” Amber says.

What started as a gathering has grown into something much bigger, with people from all over Australia traveling to take part in Naru. The focus is on accessibility, with free food and activities for kids. The 2023 event was the biggest event so far, held at a time in Australia when First Nations people deeply needed their communities as a referendum was being held on whether or not there should be a representative body that could advise the federal government on issues relating to First Nations people known as The Voice to Parliament. The campaign, embroiled with political opportunism and misinformation by political and media elites, was a tough time for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities.

“Last year was phenomenal.” Amber says, “It was a big one for us because it was just before the referendum and everyone was just so fatigued. I guess people wanted to come and yarn about it, but we really, really wanted to make sure that it was still a safe space for people to come and actually have a break from it all because of how intense and full on that whole period was.”

“Again, it'll probably sound cliche but it's sort of like a modern day corroboree. We have dancers there, but it's just such a good way for us to all get together and connect. There were multiple moments last year where I privately had a tear. It's special right, you get Mob together, I was just blown away by how many different clans and cultural groups were actually represented. I was so proud of that because of the tribal footprint that we had, we had Mob from everywhere.”

Amber describes the festival as what was missing for her growing up as she fought for her place in some of Australia’s heaviest, most male dominated lineups. While at high school on the Gold Coast she would feel pretty isolated as often the only girl, and always the only Aboriginal girl, out at Currumbin Alley or the Super Bank. There were events that she competed in, but she would travel to events like the National Indigenous Titles held annually at Bells Beach on her own. “One of the things that blew me away [at Naru] last year was the number of girls.”

“When I was younger I did feel quite lonely when I was out in the surf, I always knew people, but just feeling really different, and I don’t know if that’s an internal thing, I didn’t fit the mould of a Gold Coast surfer girl in high school. I didn’t have the beautiful blonde hair and the beautiful blue eyes, I was definitely cut from a different cloth in the way that obviously I was Aboriginal but also I don’t really get too involved in that sort of scene, but yeah definitely felt lonely.”

“So it’s so special when we all get to come together and we share, not just surfing but Culture and little bits of wisdom that we’ve been passed on and not necessarily everyone will share something but at the right time or at a time that’s comfortable for them they’ll choose to do so,” Amber says.

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander surfers are still only a tiny percentage of the Australian surf community, but festivals like Naru are pushing wide open the door that Eric Mercy and his mates first cracked open back in the 80s and 90s. Amber is making sure that surfing is a home for First Nations people and that people from everywhere have the opportunity to experience the joy of being in the ocean.

“Aboriginal people were the first people here in Australia and we are the oldest living continuing culture in the world. I feel very lucky that I've grown up in a family and an environment where we've been able to hold on to what we've had in terms of our Culture and who we are as Aboriginal people. A lot of people have unfortunately lost that.”

“I identify as an Aboriginal woman here in Australia, and I'm just so proud of that. I’m just so proud of the fact that we’ve managed to be here for over 60,000 years and we've been obviously interacting with the ocean for a very long time in various ways, but surfing is my absolute love and Culture intertwines with that in my opinion.”

“My ancestry is here in Australia, tied to this land and this beautiful ginormous Country, dirt and dust and sea and sky, this is who I am.” Amber says.

Naru Surf Gathering is going mobile this year, with a trip down to Biripi Country. It is set to be held in November.

Related: 116 Miles of Pristine California Coast 30 Days Away From Being Protected