To My Family How deprived we would have been if we had been willing to let things stay as they were We would have survived but not as a whole people We would never have known our place
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS F'remantle Arts Centre Press receives financial assistance from the Western Australian Department for the Arts Some of the personal names included in this book have been changed or only first names included to protect the privacy of those concerned
1 I'M GOING TO WRITE A BOOK I'm going to write a book It was the beginning of 1979 a good time for resolutions Another new scheme eh my mother asked sarcasti cally She was used to my wild ideas Not just a scheme this time Mum This time I'm really going to do it A children's book Mum had started collecting children's books for my daughter and son ever since they were born Nope A book about OUT family history You can't write about our family she spluttered You Aah but I'm going to find out aren't I In fact I had longed to find out the whole truth about our family ever since I first learned of our Aboriginal back ground When we were children my mother and Nan had always told my two brothers and two sisters and me that we were Indian It wasn't until I was at high school that I discovered we were really Aboriginal We all used to live in a rented house in a working-class suburb of Perth I still thought of it as our family home and don't know anything 11
even though I was married with a home of my own I saw my family nearly every day There were such strong bonds between us itwas impossible for me not towant to see them Just as well Paul my husband was the uncomplaining sort Though in fact he fitted into our family very well My father who never recovered from his wartime experi ences he was in the army and became a prisoner-of-war died when I was nine Mum was left with five kids to rear I was the eldest My grandmother lived with us We had a warm happy childhood with plenty of loving and plenty of laughter But I shall never forget the day I came home from school to find Nan sitting at the kitchen table crying I froze in the doonvay I'd never seen her cry before Nan what's wrong I asked She lifted up one arm and thumped her clenched fist hard on the table You kids don't want me you want a white grandmother I'm black Do you hear black black black With that she pushed back her chair and hurried to her room I never did find out what had upset her so I think it was all to do with us growing up and not being little kids any longer I remember how I continued to stand in the doonvay I could feel the strap of my heavy school-bag cutting into my shoulder but I was too stunned to remove it For the first time in my fifteen years I was conscious of Nan's colouring She was right she wasn't white Well I thought logically if she wasn't white then neither were we What did that make us what did that make me I had never thought of myself as being black before I was very excited by my new heritage and ever since that day I had been trying to find out more about our family My mother wouldn't openly admit the fact that we were part Aboriginal until I was at University and then the truth slipped out by accident in the middle of a conversation one day Since then she'd become almost as eager as I was to find out about our people She and I had many small conversations about the past but we tended to cover 12
