Last night I watched a chilling documentry about the first Australians and was completely and utterly heartbroken. The documentry was called Lousy Little Sixpence and went into detail about colonisation and the impact it had on Indigenous people.
As an indigenous person myself I was mortified. I remember touching on the subject at School but never in this much detail and while growing up with the white side of my family and then getting shuffled around foster homes throughout my adolscents I had no real idea about my culture or what they went through all those years ago.
My Grandfather was a full blood Torres Strait Islander and my Nana was Pom. My Nana moved onto Thursday Island as a way to get away from a sexually abusive father and family who turned a blind eye to the abuse. He was already married and Nana was his second wife. This was not unusual on the island. My Grandfather had a daughter to his first wife before Nana fell pregnant with my Mother. Mum was born a half-caste. Making me quadroon and my children octoroon. Nana spoke of a lot of traditions on the island before she passed away in 2009. She spoke of how her husband was a fishermen, how he loved to sing, loved to drink, loved his wives and loved to work. She told me how her and his other two wives shared the cooking and cleaning duties and how they made things work in order to keep him happy.
Nana thought of leaving my Grandfather as he had became an abusive alcoholic when she was 19yo. Just before my Mum was born my Nana heard of a tradition they had on the island. How the first born in every family was to be given as a gift to an elder of the family and before that elder was decided they had to bury the baby up to the neck in the sand, on the beach of the island it was born onto and leave them there overnight. In the morning, if they were still alive and had survived the baby would be accepted into the tribe/family. If they passed away in the night, then it was told that they weren't strong enough for their tribe. After hearing this, Nana made plans to leave the island while she was still pregnant.
A telegram was delivered one day for Nana, it was from her family in Victoria. It stated that her mother was sick in hospital and that she wanted to see her before she passed away. Nana left the island and while on her way down to see her mother gave birth to my Mother in Mareeba. By leaving, our culture and heritage were also left behind and Mum was raised being the only indigenous one in my Nanas family. Nana went on to have another child who was blonde and blue eyed. She was married three times. Mum never got to meet her real father or any of her family from the island.
Although our skin is dark and our indigenous features stand out we have no idea about who we are, what tribe we're from, who our family are, what language we spoke or even what my Grandfather looked like.
I researched a little right after my Nana passed away and found an announcement of my grandparents marriage. It was listed under the heading "Mixed Marriages" and was almost invisible at the bottom left hand corner of the newspaper.
I contacted a man whom remembers a telegram being sent from the mainland to the island but then returned. That telegram contained information about my grandfathers death at age 42 and was never recieved by his family. I also now know where he is buried through research of plot names in the place he passed away.
I never thought I'd be writing about all of this but it's amazing how just a small componant of my study into indigenous culture and hearing stories about the stolen generation can impact my life and make me want to appreciate who I am and where I came from more.
I am Australian, I am Indigenous and I am Proud of my culture & history!
