Silent tears

Publilius Syrus, a Latin writer of the 1st century BC once said: "The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body."

I recall seeing Rabbit-Proof Fence on the opening night in my home town in February 2002 and was inspired by the brilliant acting performances of the three young girls: Molly (played by Everlyn Sampi), Daisy (Tianna Sansbury) and Gracie (Laura Managhan) playing the principal roles of the characters of the book of the same name as they attempted to free themselves from Moore River Mission.

Why was it so popular?

Because this film was able to tell the story of the stolen generation in 94 minutes so clearly: it dispels the mistruths spread by politicians and social commentators who claim past thefts of thousands of Aboriginal children from their mothers never happened.

It was therefore with great delight that I took a back seat in my recent weekly tutorial session at the USQ Springfield campus (Brisbane) to mark a module presentation of one of my students.

I knew the student, a non-Indigenous lady, was going to invite a local Aboriginal Elder to assist with her presentation, but it wasn’t until she rose to address the tutorial session that I realised how significant her address would be for the room full of trainee teachers and myself.

Auntie Rhonda Collard, as she was introduced by the student presenter, opened her address by saying she was the grand daughter of Edna Ronan (later Spratt and then Bellotti), a Yamatji woman, who shared the humble living quarters in Moore River Mission with the young girls of the Rabbit-Proof Fence fame.

She showed a document signed by A.O. Neville, Chief Protector of Aborigines, of April 9, 1931 to the Officer in Charge, Police Station, Narrogin, which refers to her grandmother.

I desire to ascertain the whereabouts of a native named (blacked out) who has abducted Edna Ronan from Moore River to have proceeded towards Narrogin or one of the other towns along the Great Southern Line.

This man should be dealt with and I do not think this is his first offence.

Auntie Rhonda said her grandmother wasn’t abducted but chose to run away with the man in question to escape the harsh conditions she endured at Moore River Mission.

She said it wasn’t the first time she had run away and speaks fondly of her grandmother as she retold a story passed onto her of a similar escape as told in Rabbit-Proof Fence. However in this story her grandmother and a couple of other girls ran away from Moore River Mission to go home but instead of following the rabbit-proof fence, they followed the water pipe line.

A question from the floor as to whether any of the girls involved in the Rabbit-Proof Fence story took part in this escapade was met with a wry grin from Aunty Rhonda which proved inconclusive.

She explained how the girls managed to travel such vast distances without detection - with their only companion being a kangaroo dog (greyhound) - by resting during the day and travelling in the cool of the night.

She laughed when she recalled her grandmother’s story of catching a kangaroo with their kangaroo dog and how they successfully overcame its brute strength and later dined on it that evening under a bright moon light.

As the class hung on every word of this great 1930’s adventure of young Aboriginal girls in the vast outback of Western Australia their thoughts of an epic Miles Franklin-like conclusion were unexpectedly brought to an abrupt end when Auntie Rhonda explained how her grandmother surrendered to the authorities.

She said her grandmother got word from local elders at the community of Meridon that a close relative wasn’t well in a fringe camp near Moore River Mission and unreservedly presented herself to the local police so she could be returned to the mission where she could be close to him.

I could tell the students were confused and wanted to know how the elders in that community knew Edna would be in that district and also know that her close relative was ill.

This unexpected ending of a riveting story needed no further explanation as its conclusion was an inevitability that only Aboriginal people understand. It is Aboriginal knowledge (intuition of knowing of a far-a-way illness and individual movements) that I didn’t really expect students to understand and is something I will discuss with them in a later class.

Auntie Rhonda continued her fascinating journey by explaining that there were four generations of her family who were all members of the “stolen generation”. She was very brave in opening up the pages of her life to complete strangers as it became patently obvious throughout the talk that the emotional scars had not fully healed.

Auntie Rhonda told of her sad and painful recollection of being taken, at three-years of age along with her nine-month-old baby sister, from her mother by police and moved to the Carnarvon Aboriginal Mission.

Auntie Rhonda recalled how she forced herself to memorise the address on the back of the only letter she ever received from her mother: Mrs A Webb, c/o Go Go Station, via Fitzroy Crossing, West Kimberley. She still remembers it to this day and said back then it was her only knowledge of her mother’s whereabouts and she was keen to remember it in the event that she was ever successful in escaping that horrid mission.

The class didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when told of the pitiful words used by missionaries when they dealt out severe beatings (with leather straps or canes) to her for the most minor of offences: “… this hurts me more than it will hurt you.”

Auntie Rhonda said she couldn’t fathom how a burly priest could say such wretched words as he lashed into her fragile, undernourished body time and again.

Over lunch after the session and away from the students Auntie Rhonda revealed more horrendous assaults perpetrated on other Aboriginal children, physical and sexual, that young children should never witness let alone be subjected to, from her time at that mission.

When she was 12, Auntie Rhonda said she received word that her mother was in town and when the opportunity presented itself she asked a new teacher if she could be excused to go down town to speak to her.

After the initial shock of having her request approved Auntie Rhonda said she wasted little time leaving the mission and running swiftly to the main street of Carnarvon. In town she bumped into her uncle (she called him uncle because her grandmother helped raise him) and asked for directions to her mother.

Rhonda searched everywhere but sadly returned to the mission without finding her mum.

That evening when she was serving the other children their meal she saw through the kitchen window a strange car drive into the mission and instinctively knew it was her mother. When she was summoned to the front door by a supervisor she clasped eyes on her mother and other adult family members for the very first time, including her non-Indigenous stepfather.

As much as she wanted to give her mum, who she said looked exactly like her, a big hug and kiss, all she could bring herself to do was give her a quick peck on the cheek and a tight squeeze of the hand.

Within minutes the reunion was over when an unsympathetic supervisor rudely interrupted and told her to resume her duty of serving dinner.

Auntie Rhonda said she never got to meet her father but heard later in life that he was involved in a motor vehicle accident and instead of calling an ambulance the police left him unattended in jail where he died sometime later.

Sadly Auntie Rhonda also found out as an adult that the man who shared a cell with her father when he died (also a Black Deaths in Custody investigation) was in fact a member of the stolen generation who was at the Carnarvon Aboriginal Mission when she was there.

Auntie Rhonda said she spent three months of her life in total with her mother who moved to Perth to stay with her on and off when she worked there.

When she turned 16 Auntie Rhonda left the mission to take up a hair dressing apprenticeship in Fremantle. The most frustrating thing for her was to learn to tell the time because up until then her whole life was controlled by bells; when to wake up, eat, work, go to church, go to sleep and so on.

On her first day Auntie Rhonda said her boss, who was busy at the time, told her to take a customer’s money and give her change. She said that as soon as she received the money her hands started to tremble and she dropped it because she never held so much money in her life before.

Even today, living in Ipswich, where she lives close to her adult children, Auntie Rhonda said she is still uncomfortable around white people. She said that she instinctively pulls the blinds, turns off the television or radio and tries not to cough or breathe loudly when white people approach her house - and waits quietly for them to leave after not answering their knock on the door.

She said she can’t explain her bizarre actions even though 40 years has elapsed since those ghastly days of confinement and ill treatment at the hands of white people at Carnarvon Aboriginal Mission.

She explained that she taught her children to always walk with their head held high and to be proud of their culture - and they proudly do - but unfortunately and sadly she can’t seem to do the same herself.

After an engaging 45 minutes of the most fascinating first hand account of her life story the class was loudly applauding as one and then, before I had time to collect my breath, they were off to another class - with a story they will carry with them for the rest of their lives.

I’m not sure where Publilius Syrus got his inspiration to pen his famous quote but I suspect he was thinking of people like Auntie Rhonda when he said: "The pain of the mind is worse than the pain of the body."