Halfway through a shift and Kara Burgoyne would turn and leave, as if it were a fire drill.

The entire building would empty out, deserting any confused newcomer who happened to be shopping in the Angurugu community store.

On Groote Eylandt, in the Gulf of Carpentaria, Indigenous residents widely believe in curses, which can be placed on any person, place or object.

The Angurugu community shop, where Ms Burgoyne used to work, was "cursed quite a bit" because its closure would impact most of the community.

"As soon as we heard that the shop had been cursed we'd just literally drop everything and walk out of the building," she said.

"Normally no Indigenous person stays around long enough to explain what's actually going on.

"So if you're a newcomer to the place and that's just happened, you're sort of left in the lurch until somebody gets in contact with you and explains what's gone on."

Earlier this month it was the Angurugu School and the Centrelink office that fell victim to a curse, forcing them to close for 13 days.

The perpetrator was believed to be a man in a bad mood following an argument with his wife.

But cutting 159 students off from education for almost two weeks sparked a backlash, so the Anindilyakwa Ceremonial Elders decided that any future curse on public infrastructure would be ignored.

It also decided any costs incurred to lift the cursing of the school and Centrelink office — eventually done through a smoking ceremony — would be deducted from Anindilyakwa Land Council-administered royalty entitlements of the people who placed the curses.

From pure evil to 'healing powers'

But cursing has also been associated with far more sinister incidents, with a 30-year-old man jailed this week for twice raping his 10-year-old stepdaughter, whom he had told he was protecting from lethal "black magic".

In sentencing the man, Justice Anthony Graham said the community expected the man to be dealt a significant punishment, AAP reported.

"Punishment is an important factor. The community must realise, and they in fact expect, that these offences are grave and any punishment that is given must be of a significant nature," he said.

In 2004, the ABC reported the case of Jeremy Anthony, who feared he would die from a curse following the death of his wife — allegedly after he beat her — if he was spared tribal punishment.

He was charged with manslaughter and granted bail on the condition he stayed away from his community of Lajamanu, near Katherine.

But he broke that condition and returned to be speared four times in each leg and beaten with nulla-nullas.

At the time, his lawyer Peter O'Brien told the ABC that if the legal system wanted Aboriginal people to respect the law, the legal system had to start respecting Aboriginal law.

There are also those who draw "healing powers" from black magic — like Edmond Dirdi from the Oenpelli community in Arnhem land.

In 2012, the ABC reported how he cured people touched by the supernatural forces of black magic by "taking on their pain".

But he said those seeking relief from "natural" medical problems were referred to the local clinic.

The township of Angurugu in Groote Eylandt, where the local school was recently cursed. ( Supplied: NT Police )

What is a curse?

Ms Burgoyne, who no longer works at the shop and is Member for Arhem Selina Uibo's electorate liaison officer based on Groote Eylandt, described a curse as "taking something out of the spiritual dimension and placing it on an object or a person".

The curse itself can be delivered through song, spoken by the person or by pointing something, like a bone.

She explained it was usually done publicly, so the community would find out by word of mouth.

While some curses are permanent, in many instances the community then works to remove them.

Ms Burgoyne said this had to be done by specific people, who often had to travel from the mainland to do so.

While she said waiting for a curse to be lifted was a frustrating process, is was also a normal part of life in the community.

"People get frustrated. But at the same time they just go about doing their daily business," she said.

"It's just a matter of being patient and waiting for the right people who can lift the curse so everything can go back to normal again."

The curse on the Angurugu School was removed by a smoking ceremony.

Brenda Muthamuluwuy, who teaches Yolngu Studies at Charles Darwin University and is from Elcho Island, said if a person was cursed they would not be able to leave a certain area until it was lifted.

But she also said casting the curse could be a dangerous process, and sometimes that person would fall ill afterwards.

"In Indigenous belief cursing is something that can endanger the life of the person doing the cursing as well as the intended victim," she said.

Brenda Muthamuluwuy said she had seen the effects of black magic first-hand. ( Supplied )

'I've seen it, I believe it'

Ms Muthamuluwuy said curses could be good, as well as evil — particularly the ones she said were rendered through "black magic".

"Sometimes it's evil, sometimes it's not evil, it's just to pay respect or respect the area," she said.

"Most scary for me … is black magic, which is cursed."

In her lifetime, she said she had experienced this kind of curse twice.

The first time was when she fell sick watching a football game in Arnhem land.

She said she was sweaty, had a swollen shoulder and was unable to sleep for days.

Although she visited the hospital, she said it was not until a family member massaged her shoulder that she was cured.

"I could feel that she was starting to lift something from the inside — I don't know how, I don't know why," she said.

"It came out. It was some sort of a little spear or hair or something. Or long grass. Really scary.

"Once it lifted out, then my body started to go [back to] normal."

Much of the community on Elcho Island, off the coast of tropical north east Arnhem land, acknowledges the existence of curses. ( ABC News: Duane Preston )

The second time, she said her uncle was acting so strangely her family called a witchdoctor to help him.

"It was something within him. Someone did something to his head, like cursed," she said.

"We had a little family meeting. We said, 'We are going to ask someone to come here, like a witchdoctor'.

"When [the witchdoctor] came to the island we told him to see my uncle.

"He didn't know who he was but he felt there was someone good, someone who would lift that curse out.

"Half an hour, then the witchdoctor said come, 'Come on it's ok now'.

"When I went inside he was on the bed like a normal person. He was better like a normal person. And he asked, 'What happened to me?'"

Ms Muthamuluwuy said these experiences had convinced her of the traditional beliefs.

"I've seen it, I believe it, I know it's still going on," she said

Striking a balance

Ms Muthamuluwuy said many elders throughout Arnhem land had directed residents to ignore curses on public infrastructure.

Given the integral role ancient beliefs in things like curses, black magic and witchdoctors continued to play in the community, the move marked a shift.

But she explained it was crucial these instructions were given by elders, rather than others who had no understanding of the belief system.

"Sometimes the whitefella guys say, 'Why? What is curse?' They don't understand. Sometimes we have to explain to people," she said.

"We just have to explain it to them somehow to make them know it's our tradition and custom."

Ms Muthamuluwuy also said the ban on cursing public infrastructure made sense, given how frustrating it was to have these places off-limits in a tiny community with no alternatives.

But both women said they were proud of the way the traditional customs had been retained.

"To me it's not surprising the tradition is continuing on and will probably continue on for a lot longer," Ms Burgoyne said.

The Anindilyakwa Land Council could not be reached for comment.