by Jack Davis
NEVILLE rises. The whites clap while the Aborigines remain silent.
NEVILLE: Today we are gathered here to celebrate the birth of this nation of Australia one hundred and forty-six years ago at Sydney Cove in the Eastern States. As I was driving up, I remembered that it is only a hundred and four years since the British flag was first raised on our West Australian shores. As I drove through Guildford, Midland and Bullsbrook, I saw men on the road, hundreds of men, and I was reminded that the world is in the grip of depression and that many people are suffering from hunger and deprivation of many of the essential elements which make for a contented existence. But you, in this small corner of the Empire, are fortunate in being provided for with adequate food and shelter.
JIMMY: [muttering] Yeah, weevily flour.
NEVILLE:… And to be with family and friends. Occasionally some of you might ponder why you are here—
JIMMY: [a little louder] Too bloody right.
SAM: [to JIMMY] Dubakieny wahnginy, gnoolya.
NEVILLE:… It doesn’t hurt to remind yourselves that you are preparing yourselves here to take your place in Australian society, to live as other Australians live, and to live alongside other Australians; to learn to enjoy the privileges and to shoulder the responsibilities of living like the white man, to be treated equally, not worse, not better, under the law.
Pause. He looks around at the others on the dais.
SAM: What’s he talkin’ about?
JIMMY: He’s talkin’ outa his kwon.
SISTER: [aside, to NEVILLE] The hymn.
NEVILLE: We are now going to sing the song… ah, hymn.
NEAL: [aside to NEVILLE] The hymn, then the flag raising.
NEVILLE: Sing the hymn before we raise the flag and sing the national anthem. [To SISTER EILEEN] Sorry, I’ve forgotten.
SISTER: ‘There is a Happy Land’.
NEVILLE: ‘There is a Happy Land’.
SISTER EILEEN stands.
ALL: [singing]
There is a happy land,
Far, far away,
Where saints in glory stand,
Bright, bright as day:
Oh, how they sweetly sing,
‘Worthy is our Saviour King!’
Loud let His praises ring,
Praise, praise for aye!
As the whites continue, the Aborigines break into full clear voice with a parody of the words.
There is a happy land,
Far, far away.
No sugar in our tea,
Bread and butter we never see.
That’s why we’re gradually
Fading away.
NEVILLE: Stop, stop. Stop that immediately.
The Aborigines repeat the parody even louder.
Stop it. Stop this nonsense immediately. Never in my life have I witnessed such a disgraceful exhibition.
The song stops.
I’m appalled by this disgraceful demonstration of ingratitude. I can tell you that you will live to rue this day. There will be no privileges from now on.
JIMMY: [calling out] Rotten spuds and onions?
NEVILLE: Be quiet! And there will be no Christmas this year! No Christmas!
JIMMY: What, a dried up orange and a puddin’?
NEVILLE: Will you be quiet? Who is it, who is that fellow? Munday, isn’t it? Northam. I’ve got police reports on you. You’re a troublemaker, and a ringleader. You must listen to me.
JIMMY: [approaching NEVILLE] No, you listen to me Mr A.O. You come an’ eat supper with us, tonight, right? Bread and drippin’ and black tea. Are you game to try it?
NEAL stands to leave, then turns back.
NEAL: Look, Munday, what’s your bloody game?
JIMMY: Did you vote for Jimmy Mitchell’s lot?
Silence. JIMMY sniggers. SISTER EILEEN stands and starts to sing ‘God Save the King’. The other whites join in. The Aborigines laugh.
Yeah, you musta done, eh?
NEAL stares at him in disbelief. The blacks, with the exception of the Millimurra family, gradually disperse. BILLY and BLUEY remain by the flag.
Nothin’ to do with bloody scabies. And that’s why we got dragged ’ere; so them wetjalas vote for him.
JIMMY is left alone, shouting. SAM looks on.
So he could have a nice, white little town, a nice, white little fuckin’ town.
JIMMY runs out of breath, heaves and clutches his chest. SAM catches him as he collapses, clutching at the flagpole. The official party continues to sing ‘God Save the King’. JIMMY’s family rushes to him.
MARY: Matron, Matron, help! Help us!
NEAL: [to the whites] Ah! He’s only fainted.
The singing stops. MATRON breaks ranks and rushes to JIMMY’s aid, loosens his clothing, checks his breathing and pulse.
MATRON: He’s got a heart condition. Billy, Bluey, pick him up. Bring him to the hospital. Come on, come on. Easy now.
MATRON and the Millimurras exit with BILLY and BLUEY. NEVILLE and NEAL exit in the other direction. SISTER EILEEN remains, unsure which way to go.
SCENE SIX
The Superintendant’s Office, day. NEAL reads the West Australian, Monday 30 January 1934. MATRON enters.
MATRON: What’s the latest?
NEAL: A cool change tomorrow.
He looks at the date on the paper.
That’s today.
MATRON: Not much sign of it.
NEAL: Pictures of cars stuck in the bitumen on Crawley Drive. Hmm, a truck load of eggs in Fremantle hatched out chickens… Hot, all right.
MATRON: No news from Kalgoorlie?
NEAL: Oh, yeah… Three dead.
MATRON: Oh, dear.
NEAL: Yeah, besides Jordan. One of us stabbed—typical—and one a them shot. The foreigners have dug themselves in around Ding Flat… They’re recruiting specials.
MATRON: Who?
NEAL: Volunteers, special constables. A man with a military background has a responsibility to volunteer in an emergency like this.
MATRON: Why don’t you?
NEAL: Can’t leave this place.
MILLY and SAM approach the office.
MATRON: Got your own civil war?
NEAL: Don’t be stupid, woman, I can handle a mob of unruly niggers.
MATRON: Yes? Yes, Milly? Hello, Sam.
MILLY: [pointing inside] We want to see him.
MATRON beckons them in.
NEAL: [to SAM and MILLY] What do you want?
SAM: We want to know if you can get Joe out for the funeral.
NEAL: Who?
MATRON: Joe Millimurra.
NEAL: Impossible.
MILLY: Why? Other Nyoongahs get out when the ’lations die.
SAM: You could ring up Mr Neville and ask him.
NEAL: Too late. Funeral’s tomorrow.
SAM: Well, hold it the day after.
NEAL: What, in this weather?
MILLY: You could if you wanted to.
MILLY starts to cry.
MATRON: Don’t get upset; there’s nothing we can do about it.
MILLY: And don’t you go wrappin’ him up in the gubment blanket. You put him in a proper box.
MATRON: Don’t worry, he’ll receive a proper burial.
SAM: Will you ring the prison and tell ’em to tell Joe?
NEAL: As a member of the family you can write to him yourself.
MILLY: You scared to tell him. You scared to tell him.
SAM puts his hands on her shoulders and tries to steer her to the door. MILLY struggles against him.
You’re scared’ to tell him. You’re scared at what he’ll do when he gets out. You’re wayarniny. Wayarniny bridaira, you’re wayarniny.
SAM: Come on, Milly, we get Cissie to write to him. Come on, Milly. Come on, come on now.
MILLY: I’ll tell him all about it when he gits out, you hear me? You hear me?
SAM: Come on, Mil, dubakieny.
MILLY: An’ Matron, you don’t forget put him in a proper coffin box, Matron. Matron, coo-
cooo, cooh.
They exit.
NEAL: [to MATRON] A classic case of emotion comes in through the door and reason goes out the window.
MATRON: [exiting] I couldn’t agree more. Seems to be happening frequently in this office lately.
SCENE SEVEN
Long Pool Camp, Moore River, night. The campfire is blazing. DAVID is asleep. MARY, GRAN and MILLY are silhouetted inside the tent. MARY suffers a contraction.
MARY: Help, help! Joe! I want Joe!
The contraction continues.
Don’t let them take Baby. Don’t let them take Baby.
She cries in panic.
GRAN: Nobody’s goin’ to take Baby, darlin’. Nobody. You’ll be all right, darling, Matron comin’ to see you directly.
MARY: I don’t want her to come here. Granny, tell her to go away. Please, I don’t want to see her.
GRAN: You shut up, now. What will Joe say if anythin’ happens to you and Baby, eh? We gotta look after youse.
MARY: I wish Joe was here.
Another contraction starts and she yells.
GRAN: [to MILLY] Gawd, I think it’s comin’. [To MARY] Come on darlin’, push down. Come on, breathe deep.
The contraction continues.
[To MILLY] Git the water and the rags. [ To MARY] Come on darlin’, you doin’ good. Joe’d be real tjeuri piny for you. Breathe deep, eh?
[To MILLY] Git me clean ashes, make sure there’s no lumps.
MARY cries out while MILLY collects ashes on a sugar bag, picking out the pieces of charcoal. She takes the ashes, water and rags back to the tent.
Come on, darlin’, breathe deep. Push down, keep pushin’, keep pushin’. Hurry up, Milly, come on. [To MARY] Come on, darlin’, you doin’ good.
MARY yells and sighs.
Firestick! Firestick, live one, quick!
MILLY races to the fire and takes a burning stick back into the tent.
I got you a little Nyoongah. Now I cut your cord and tie it, make a real pretty belly button for you, just like your daddy’s. Now cover you in ashes. More better than Johnson’s Baby Powder, eh?
The baby cries.
You got a great big handsome Nyoongah boy. Come on, darlin’, one more push, come on…
MARY pushes.
Keep pushin’, eh? Good, it’s all over.
DAVID wakes.
GRAN: There you are, darlin’. He’s yours for life.
DAVID: Hey? What’s goin’ on?
MILLY: You’re an uncle now.
DAVID: What? Dinkum?
DAVID rushes to the tent and looks in.
Geez, look at him. Why don’t he open his meeowl?
MILLY: ’Coz he’s just been born, son. He’s only five minutes old.
SAM appears, breathless.
Where’s Matron?
SAM: They comin’.
DAVID: We don’t need her, everything’s all right.
SAM: Dinkum?
GRAN: That’s what David said.
SAM: Here’s Matron comin’ now.
MATRON appears with a hurricane lamp and a satchel followed by CISSIE and TOPSY.
MATRON: Hello, Granny. Hello everybody.
MARY: No! Don’t let Matron see Baby. Granny, go and hide him. Please, please, don’t let Matron take him away.
The three approach the tent.
MATRON: Well, well. How is she? Hello, Mary.
GRAN: Baby boy.
CISSIE: Oh, he’s beautiful.
MATRON: Come on, Mary, don’t be a silly girl. I just want to check him over.
MARY: No, don’t touch him! You’re not havin’ my baby, leave him alone!
MATRON: But Mary, it’s for your own good and the baby’s and I only want to help.
MARY: No, don’t take him to hospital. The trackers will get him and kill him.
MATRON: What on earth is she talking—
MARY: [interrupting]… And bury him in the pine plantation.
MATRON: I think she’s delirious.
MARY: Like Lillian’s baby. Mr Neal tell them to do it, to kill Baby.
MATRON: She’s delirious.
SAM: No she ain’t.
MARY: Gran, Gran, don’t let ’em take him.
GRAN: [soothingly] No one’s takin’ Baby, darlin’. You’re all right, you’re all right. [To MATRON] She’s all right. Better go.
MATRON: Gran evidently seems to have done a good job.
GRAN: I brought plenty of babies into this world, Matron.
MATRON: [reaching into her satchel] Well, here’s plenty of clean cotton wool and baby powder and Lysol soap.
GRAN: Don’t need powder, use me own.
MATRON: All right, see you tomorrow when she’s calmed down. [To MARY] Bye, dear. You have a good sleep now.
MARY: Yes, Matron.
MATRON and TOPSY leave the tent and vanish into the darkness with the hurricane lamp.
SCENE EIGHT
Long Pool Camp, Moore River, day. GRAN seems to have aged suddenly. She sits and stares into the smouldering fire, quietly grumbling and singing. CISSIE and DAVID play knucklebones. MILLY and SAM play cards. MARY watches over the baby who sleeps in a kerosene tin. A loud whistle is heard in the distance.
SAM: Who the hell is that?
DAVID: Boys whistling at girls, I bet.
MARY: No.
The whistle is heard again.
I know that whistle, that’s Joe. It’s Joe, it’s Joe!
CISSIE and DAVID start to run.
MILLY: Come back, you two! Come back!
DAVID: It’s Joe, Mum. It’s Joe.
The kids run off.
JOE: [off] Hey! Where are all you blackfellas?
JOE enters carrying a sugar bag and with DAVID on his back. They are followed by CISSIE. He sees MARY and they embrace. He swings her around and around. DAVID falls off, laughing and yelling. JOE wears a yellow shirt and black pants.
How’s everybody? Gawd, it’s good to be back.
SAM: Yeah, son, we wasn’t expectin’ you for another two weeks.
DAVID: [yelling, pointing to the tin] Your baby in there! [Quietly] Sleepin’.
JOE: How are you, Gran?
GRAN: Bit crook. [Rubbing her leg] Me leg git tired, little bit, this one.
MARY: Come and see baby.
They walk to where the baby sleeps.
JOE: Gawd.
Pause.
Can he sit up?
MARY: Give him time. He’s only ten weeks old.
JOE: What did you call him?
SAM: We call him koolbardi, Nyoongah name.
GRAN: Magpie.
MARY: We waited for you to come home to give him a wetjala name.
Silence.
JOE: I wanna call him Jimmy.
Silence.
MARY: Yeah.
GRAN begins to wail and cry.
JOE: Eh, Gran, got somethin’ here for you.
[He dives his hand into the sugar bag and produces a wooden pipe and a tin of tobacco.]
Here y’are, Gran, real pipe and real gnummarri, not nigger twist.
GRAN: Woolah, kwobiduk, cooo-ooh.
JOE: [pulling out coloured ribbons] Here y’are, Cissie, ribbons for your hair.
CISSIE: Oh thanks, brother, they’re moorditj.
She ties yellow and red ribbons in her hair.
JOE: Here y’are, gnoon.
He gives DAVID a pocket knife.
Here y’are, Mum.
He produces a needle and cotton.
And Dad.
He produces tobacco and papers.
SAM: Hey, real papers. Rizlas. Good on ya, son.
MILLY: Didn’t you git nothin’ for Mary?
JOE: Course I did, Mum.
He pulls out a larger parcel and gives it to her.
Go on, open it.
She tears the paper off: it’s a red dress.
MILLY: Go and try it on, dear.
SAM: Hey, son, where did you git the boondah?
JOE: Wages. Earned a few bob and they give
it to me when I got out. Not like this place.
He takes out a packet of cigarettes.
Had enough left for a packet of Luxor!
They share them. MARY returns with the dress on, unbuttoned down the back. She goes to JOE to do it up.
Geez, what happened to your back?
MILLY: Neal belted her.
DAVID: With the cat-’o-nine-tails. Tracker held her down over the flour bags.
CISSIE: And she was seven months bootjari.
JOE: Dinkum?
GRAN: Kunarn, kunarn!
JOE: Bloody stinkin’ walrus-faced bastard. I’m gunna kick his teeth down his fuckin’ throat.
He starts to run off, but MARY stops him.
MARY: Joe, please, please, please, don’t go near him. Please think of Baby and me. He’ll put you in gaol again.
JOE: But why did he have to belt you?
MARY: ’Cause I told him to go to hell.
JOE: Dinkum?
MARY: Yeah.
They embrace and laugh.
He got wild ’coz I wouldn’t knuckle under to him. Don’t go, Joe, not now. Go on Monday and ask him if we can leave the Settlement. Koodjie’ll be there, an’ he’s scared a’ her.
JOE: Who?
MARY: Koodjie. Matron. He’s frightened a’ her. Come an’ see Uncle Herbie before Baby wakes; he’s cruel hungry and he’s got a cruel loud voice.
They exit.
SCENE NINE
Superintendent’s Office, Moore River, day. TOPSY brings NEAL a cup of tea on a tray in exact repetition of Scene Five. JOE wails outside as NEAL rummages through drawers until he finds a piece of paper. He reads it, adds a few words, and places it on his desk.
NEAL: [yelling] Millimurra!
JOE walks in, stands and stares at him in silence.
Sign this.
JOE: What is it?
NEAL: Read it.
JOE takes the paper and reads it slowly to himself.
Oh, Jesus, give it to me.
He snatches it from JOE.
I want you to understand this. Are you listening?
JOE: I’m listenin’.
NEAL: ‘I, Joseph Millimurra, undertake not to domicile in the town of Northam, nor anywhere in the Northam Shire. I fully understand that if I return to Northam I am liable to be returned under warrant to the Moore River or other Government Native Settlement.’
