Stories of Aboriginal survival

February 1, 2008
Issue 

Speaking from the Heart: Stories of Life, Family and Country

Edited by Sally Morgan, Tjalaminu Mia and Blaze Kwaymullina

Fremantle Arts Centre Press, 2007

$27.95 (pb)

Speaking from the Heart: Stories of Life, Family and Country begins with the notion that Aboriginal people are familiar with story, and the driving force behind this collection is "the need within the Aboriginal community to share stories of life, of family, of deep things."

Eighteen contributors tell their personal stories, alongside an insightful introduction by editor Blaze Kwaymullina, who places these stories within an historical context.

The concept of "taproots" is used as a theme in indigenous identity, and is explained in the introduction as "the root of the tree that goes the deepest". He argues that, as his mother had taught him, "we didn't get here by ourselves. We have others to thank for that and that we should acknowledge it." It is also referred to in some of the individual stories to illustrate their own personal connections to their families, spirituality and heritage.

The collection includes Dreaming stories and personal stories from the colonial era to present day, many from the Nyungar people of Western Australia. The continuing theme throughout all of the contributions in this anthology is the disconnection, bruising, and trauma associated with the assimilationist policies of the Australian government, particularly in the 20th century.

From men and women from all walks of life and tribal groups, we see Australia through Aboriginal eyes as invaded peoples, and how all families have been affected by racist practices.

Kwaymullina points out that while a white nation was being "born" with Federation in 1901, the era would be characterised by repressive laws and an absence of basic human rights for Aboriginal people. The Australian constitution gave power to legislate about Aboriginal affairs to the individual states and by 1901, there was a dominant belief that the Aboriginal "race" was dying out. He argues that the policy was a biological model based on "pseudo-science", aimed at breeding out the colour of Aboriginal people, thereby creating a (totally) white Australia.

It became increasingly clear, however, that the Aboriginal population was steadily increasing, so that a fear grew among government administrators that "Aboriginal people were breeding up to become a social menace". Therefore, Aboriginal people's lives were legally regulated and they were placed on reserves by force, criminalising any resistance.

The fear of a growing Black population fuelled a shift in policy, marking the beginning of a cultural assimilation policy, involving constant surveillance of people's lives judged according to non-Indigenous standards. It also involved the idea or "biological absorption", causing loss of land, language, kinship culture and identity.

Practices that continued up until the 1960s and early 1970s included government surveillance, lighter skinned children being removed to missions or institutions to be "Christianised", and deliberately crushing cultural and family ties. Keeping people on reserves, monitoring Indigenous movements, and providing limited access to medical and education services, provided government departments with an excuse to remove children for "neglect".

Other racist rules included preventing darker skinned Aboriginal people marrying Aborigines of lighter skin; Aboriginal soldiers who fought in wars not being entitled to the same rights as other veterans; and having to apply for citizenship in their own land.

Stories like those of Lena Crabbe and Patrick Hume, both born in the 1920s, tell of the constant need to evade A.O. Neville, the chief protector of Aborigines in Western Australia and his representatives, usually the local police sergeant, who were always on the lookout for Aboriginal children to be taken from their families. They talk of moving further from town or of hiding at night, and of the embedded racism in the education system where they were placed at the back of the class and "the teachers never put their heart and soul into kids like us".

Hume, however, mentions that when his family moved to Fremantle, they found a working-class and strong union town, where the union made sure you didn't miss out on anything. He tells of his father becoming a wharfie and a unionist and the union treating them all like human beings. "It didn't matter that Dad was Black because he was a union member."

Work is an important theme. While some had a free hand to work at whatever job they might like, many others were limited to specific jobs — an Aboriginal person could never be a station manager in these times, for instance. Around World War II pastoralists had the upper hand in everything; and Aboriginal girls were trained as domestic servants.

Each person tells their own painful story, yet still offer some positive insights for the future. Some of the positives that come from these stories include looking after Indigenous children and grandchildren, having a strong understanding of Indigenous culture and an appreciation of their families.

Others mention learning to live with each other first before we can live with other people — to reconcile with ourselves first, then move forward together and understand that we are part of the rest of the world. The image of the taproot is a good one.

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