Introduction
I bought an audiobook of Secrets of Aboriginal Healing: A Physicist’s Journey with a Remote Australian Tribe by Gary Holz expecting a substantial rational discussion of traditional indigenous healing methods. That’s not what I got. I had to buy a Kindle version to double check my first impression.
What I got was a poorly researched fiction in support of a theory of healing claimed to be practiced by Australian Aboriginal people. On the theory of healing, I have no strong comment, because it’s not something I have the knowledge to critique with any depth. But there was no evidence that this methodology had any connection to indigenous Australia culture or traditions.
The author claims to have contracted MS. I say ‘claims’ because I haven’t verified this, and his other claims in the book lead me to doubt this one as well. He travels to Brisbane, Australia, around 1994/5. He meets up with an Aboriginal healer by prior arrangement and travels to a remote Aboriginal community in the outback where he works with another traditional healer. Here his health is restored. At least that’s the story in the book.
I am Australian. I have been to Brisbane at various times since the early 1970s. I have a deep interest in Aboriginal culture. I have worked with Aboriginal people as colleagues. A close friend is Aboriginal. He has been active in an Aboriginal organisation in a senior position and has worked with Aboriginal families and organisations for many years. We often talk about community and culture.
As well, I have an active interest in traditional belief systems, developed through my inquiry into animism. I also have some insight into natural or traditional medicine. My former wife was a naturopath and later trained as a psychotherapist. She also practised ‘shamanic’ healing methods – something I sometimes assisted with. I also have a background in ritual magic and Wicca.
Finally, I have a mobility disability that forces me to rely on Canadian crutches now. I contracted GBS and while I was recovering, I spent some months using a manual wheelchair for mobility. My brother uses an electric wheelchair and has travelled by plane, bus, train and car using a smaller more compact wheelchair. He also moved to Brisbane in 2009 and has lived in the region since then.
For 3.25 years I led a Disability Employee Resource Group (ERG) where I worked to see that the inclusion needs of employees with disability were addressed. This included supporting a member with MS and another in a wheelchair.
Now, none of the above make me an expert, but, all told, it has enabled me to develop a pretty decent bullshit detector. I have shared my concerns about the book with my brother (who has a Grad Dip of science with honours, majoring in microbiology) and my Aboriginal friend, who also has a mobility disability. Both share my concerns, as do a number of other Australians who have left one-star reviews on Amazon and Audible. To be fair, many of the five-star reviews were also left by Australians.
Below I want to look at a few things that ring alarm bells for me. I will be citing texts from a Kindle version of the book. I will focus on facts, rather than impressions. But I will convey some impressions where there is ambiguity. There are times when an experience-based impression has merit as an opinion.
Fifteen minutes beyond the outskirts of Brisbane there’s desert
“Within fifteen minutes of leaving the outskirts, we were driving through an open, bare countryside of nothing but rock and sand.” (page 22)
Here’s an excerpt from The 1995 Regional Statistics report for Queensland put out by the Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS). It relates to the Brisbane and Moreton Statistical Divisions. The Moreton division extends west of Brisbane to Ipswich. That’s a distance of 43kms (26.72 miles).
The report says, “In 1993-94, crop production contributed half of the gross value of agricultural commodities produced in the Brisbane and Moreton Statistical Divisions and the region was Queensland’s largest producer of vegetables and pineapples. During this period, the region also produced 22% of the gross value of Queensland’s livestock products. At 31 March 1994, the region held 34% of Queensland’s dairy cattle. Nurseries, fruit growing and poultry disposals also contributed significantly to the value of agricultural commodities produced.”
The other clue, not available 30 years ago, is that Google maps show a green tone and an ‘earthy’ tone – which, on Google Earth, when examined is grazing land and not bare earth.
So, the claim that the author was driven through ”bare countryside of nothing but rock and sand” cannot be based on actual experience.
The need to eat crocodile meat because there aren’t many cows
“I was ravenous, after no dinner or breakfast, so eagerly bit into the meat patty between slices of white bread with no condiments. Ray took a bite and nodded in approval. “As usual.” It wasn’t until days later that Ray, under duress, confessed to the real identity of that unique-tasting burger. It didn’t come from a cow. Cows are scarce in Australia. It was crocodile.” (Page 23)
The Australian Bureau of Statistics website advises that “As of June 30, 2025, Queensland had approximately 13.5 million beef cattle, making it the state with the largest cattle population in Australia.” This isn’t a recent development. Thirty years ago, it wasn’t much different. The 1995 Regional Statistics report for Queensland the Australian Bureau of Statistics notes that cattle grazing was an important activity in at least half of the 11 regions.
For example, for the Central-West region the report notes that “The key industries for the region are wool growing and cattle grazing.” For the South-West region the report says, “Key activities in the region include wool growing and beef cattle grazing as well as cotton and grain growing.” And, finally, of the North-West region the report says, “The key industries in the region are mining, beef cattle grazing and wool growing”.
These three regions cover the whole of the western part of the state. It is not, therefore the desert as claimed (“…we drove further into the baking desert.” – p23).
The idea of “meat patty between slices of white bread with no condiment” is weird. Australia is known for its sausage sizzle – a grilled sausage on a piece of white bread – which you usually have with tomato sauce and/or mustard. I have never heard of a meat patty (a rissole) being served that way – maybe somewhere? In any case I am pretty sure it wouldn’t work with a rissole.
Travelling in a manual wheelchair on a plane for 18 hours
The author claims that he “rolled his wheelchair onto a plane bound for Australia.” And that he was “sitting upright in my wheelchair for more than 18 hours.”
The most time I spent in a manual wheelchair was 2.5 hours. That was enough. I have flown to Europe and back so my immediate question was ‘where would you park a wheelchair?’ Could you even get one onto a plane?
A quick check of the internet suggests that sitting in one’s wheelchair isn’t an option on any commercial flight, at least not 30 years ago. Looks like things are changing these days.
Airlines transfer wheelchair users onto an aisle chair to take them to their seat. I used one in 2019 when I flew between Sydney and Melbourne. The wheelchair becomes luggage.
The Aboriginal village and description of buildings
The book describes the Aboriginal community travelled to as living in a village. The term ‘village’ is rarely used. Other terms like missions, reserves and stations are more common. Settlement or camp or just community may also be used.
A search of the website indigenous.gov.au for the word village gave me only two hits – Jubullum Village near Tenterfield, NSW and Village Camp near Tennant Creek, NT.
This isn’t to say that village isn’t an appropriate term as we slowly give up the myth that indigenous people were entirely nomadic. There is evidence of long-term dwellings and settled communities in a number of parts of the country.
But the use of the term here seems more like an academic anachronism rather than a common term. Likewise, the description of buildings as “the thatched houses were made of wood scraps, twigs, and leaves.” (page 24) is out of date. Such buildings may have been seen in the 1800s, maybe into the 1900s in Australia, but not in the 1990s. Where, in any case would have such material come from – in the baking desert?
However, we can search online and find: Humpies and Gunyahs: Like many Indigenous groups in the arid and semi-arid regions of inland Australia, the Gunggari traditionally used local materials to construct semi-permanent, climate-appropriate shelters known as gunyahs or humpies. These were constructed with saplings and covered in bark, grass, or woven mats to
provide protection from the elements.
The Gunggari people come from south-west Queensland, about 566kms (352 miles) from Brisbane. These days that’s about a 6.5-hour drive. The region around Mitchell isn’t arid, or a desert. As we saw above, the industries include sheep and cattle grazing and cotton and grain growing.
We can also read that, The Yumba Camps: As Gunggari families were displaced by pastoral expansion and government removal policies, they took refuge in unofficial fringe settlements along the Maranoa River. Known as Yumbas (meaning “camp”), these communities served as vital spiritual homes, community hubs, and bases for fishing and gathering. The Mitchell Yumba, for instance, contained a vibrant community living in corrugated iron cottages and humpies alongside families from neighbouring tribes.
It is way more common (if not exclusively so), even 30 years ago, for buildings to substantial structures in the western style.
Extreme temperatures
The book says, “Hoping to see Ray, I wheeled myself outside. I squinted in the glaring sunlight, the sun already climbing above a reddish dust haze and cooking the flat landscape. I would soon learn that even at night, the temperatures here rarely dipped below 90 degrees, and could reach 130 during the day. The bare vista of sand and rocks was relieved only by a few trees dotting the horizon.” (page 25)
That’s a range of 32 to 55 degrees Centigrade. According to Wikipedia, “The highest temperature ever recorded in Australia is 50.7 °C (123.3 °F), recorded on 2 January 1960 at Oodnadatta, South Australia, and again on 13 January 2022 at Onslow, Western Australia.”
The website outback-australia-travel-secrets.com says, “For example the highest temperatures recorded in Alice Springs for June/July (mid winter) are over 30°C, and Alice Springs temperatures between October and March can reach above 45°C! Winter nights between May and August may be 3 to 7 degrees below zero! (By the way, all temperatures in the tables below are indicating °C.)”
We don’t know when the described trip was taken, but saying that “temperatures here rarely dipped below 90 degrees, and could reach 130 during the day.” just isn’t true. The website weatherspark.com showed average seasonal temperature ranges for 2 inland Queensland towns – Mt Isa and Longreach. Both show average summer highs around 35 degrees C (95 F) and average winter lows around 24 degrees C (75 F).
I will allow that Ray may have indulged in the Australian practice of bullshitting gullible foreigners, but the disparity could also be down to poor research.
Descriptions of village residents
The following is from page 25 of the book.
“My guide was nowhere in sight, but the villagers, about twenty Aboriginal people of varying ages, were awake and going about their daily routines. On average the men were about 5′ 3″ and the women about 4′ 11″. Everyone was barefoot, and some of the smaller children were naked. The men were dressed in loincloths and most of them were clean shaven, but some had facial hair that was extremely coarse and curly. The women wore simple skirts or shifts, a few going bare breasted. No one wore jewelry or any type of decoration.
I was surprised by the variety of skin colors, which varied from light brown to the deepest black. This evidence of their mixed blood reminded me of what Ray had told me about the history of his people during our long car trip. Because of the legacy of rape, “pacification,” and intermarriage, the Aboriginal people were now all the colors of the rainbow.” (page 25)
Men dressed in loincloths? I have never seen an indigenous Australian adult male wearing a loincloth. The term might be contentious because my Aboriginal friend says that the commonly red modesty covers worn by men performing traditional dance are often called lap laps. These dances are traditionally performed naked, but as doing so offends against white fella sensibilities covering up is necessary. But as mundane attire in a village? Western clothing is the norm.
Women going bare breasted in 1994/5? Maybe in the privacy of an isolated ‘village’. I can’t say because I have had no direct experience. But Aboriginal people living in the Queensland ‘outback’ are mostly shown as wearing western clothes.
The remark about skin tones being “now all the colors of the rainbow” strikes me as being facile and demeaning. It is true that people who identify as Aboriginal can have a wide range of skin tones within the spectrum of light sun tan to ‘black’. But not red, yellow, green etc.
The Foreword problem
I also take issue with the author of the foreword, Joy Parker. I would like her to explain how she could assert that “When I read about Ray and Rose, the two Aboriginal healers who worked with Gary in the Outback, I immediately recognized them as being typical of the indigenous person who is adept at moving between the “two worlds.”
Early in her foreword she says, “One of the questions a reader might ask upon reading that account in this book is: “Is this a true story? Are the people and events that Gary describes real? How is it that the two Aboriginal medicine people spoke English and used modern words such as ‘programming’ and ‘the subconscious’?” How indeed?
Let’s deal with how they could speak English first. The Australian Bureau of Statistics (ABS) says that in 2021 812,000 people identified as being indigenous. Only 9.5% speak an indigenous language. This has dropped from 16.4% in 1991.
The majority (87.4%) of people who spoke an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander language at home in 2021 reported using English ‘Very well’ or ‘Well’ (up from 81.6% in 2011).
This means that of the 76,978 people who spoke at least one of the over 150 languages in 2021 only 9,699 do not speak English well. That’s 1.19% of the indigenous population.
So, it should be unsurprising that the two healer characters in this story speak English. But what is surprising in that Rose has an British accent. The author says, “Rose was a gentle and dignified woman who greeted me in perfect English with a British accent.” (page 26)
He goes on to have Rose say, “I have lived in both worlds also. My mother was an Aborigine and my father was white. I learned to speak fluent English when I was very young and was educated in Brisbane, where my mother and I lived for years.” (page 28)
Both the author and Parker emphasise Ray’s and Rose’s facility with English as if it is remarkable. I cannot believe that Rose would have told the author that she “learned to speak fluent English”, nor that she had an British accent. Aboriginal people growing in an urban setting would have gone to a regular school and would have spoken English like everyone else. If Rose had gone on to higher education she might have picked up terms like ‘programming’ and ‘subconscious’, just like anyone else.
But Rose having an ‘British accent’ just isn’t credible, especially if she grew up in Brisbane and on the ‘remote village’.
I cannot understand how Parker wrote what she did and is said possess “expertise in indigenous tribes”. Unless that expertise had zero or little Australian content.
I haven’t been able to identify the Joy Parker who wrote the foreword online. The book was published in 2013. That’s 13 years ago.
Conclusion
I am not persuaded that the author, Gary Holz, visited Australia in the manner he describes in the book. Nor am I persuaded that he met the people he claims to have met in the place he claims to have visited.
My impression is that this book is a work of fiction presented by the author and publisher as a work of fact for the purpose of connecting the author’s own theory of healing to an ancient tradition so that it has referred credibility. My Aboriginal friend sees this as offensive because it misrepresents his people’s cultural traditions and their genuine healing methodologies.
I have a passion for truth. I do not appreciate being lied to. With this book I do feel that fiction has been represented as truth. The disparities are too stark. There are many more elements of the book that I could challenge, but I want to stop here.
The Australian indigenous culture, with its traditions, practices and beliefs is remarkable and deserves our respect – and hopefully our curiosity and care. It is not something to be plundered by a deceptive spirit who wants to elevate his own theory of healing by associating it with the oldest enduring culture on our planet.
That’s dishonest, and once that is seen, the integrity of the theory crumbles. For me, it is impossible give the author credit for anything claimed in the book. I think the publisher should withdraw it from sale because of the disrespect to our indigenous people’s culture.