by Fiona Doyle
‘Standard Australian English’ translation:
One day a husband and wife went to a place known as Thoonki to look for yams. On that particular day there were people everywhere, sitting under the shade, yarning about the past. Some of the women were making baskets and dilly bags. They did this by sticking their yam sticks into the ground. (This acted as an anchor or central point which supported the very fine techniques involved in the weaving process.)
Some men were also making spears, while the others worked on refining the spear-throwing skills required for successful hunting.
Anyway, that day before the husband and wife actually went off to look for yams they first sat down and discussed it under a shady tree. Not too far off four men watched them. One decided to approach them and boldly asked them, ‘Hey, what are you two planning to do?’
They responded and told them that they were planning on going to Thoonki for yams. The couple did not realise that the one who approached them was only pretending to be friendly. They did not realise that he and the other three were planning something bad; something evil.
Off the couple went. It wasn’t long after they arrived at their destination that they heard a whirring sound. Because this was magic in effect, the sound of the spear’s flight was magnified. It was sung (by magic) to hit its target—the husband. It went straight through the waist area of the man. (Nana demonstrates by pointing to her own side.) The wife was pregnant too. She flew from Thoonki right up and landed on the main road which leads to the landing (a local fishing area where the three rivers of Watson, Ward and Archer meet).
She turned into a bird, mind you, and she flew, because it was magic taking place; evil magic. The trees were turning upside down and the ant beds were dancing. This was the result of the evil and murder that permeated the air.
The people saw her fly. My mother was there along with old lady Laura. They ran over to help her as she was an in-law to them.
My father went to help the husband. He cut the spear and pulled it out at the blunt end; this was because the other end of the spear had a stingray nail on it. The nail was intended to rip the man’s insides effectively and dramatically.
They took the wife to get some medical assistance. She was extremely out of breath and began to fit. My mother and old lady Laura started dancing in pain because of what they saw. They were dancing and wailing in pain. I was then told that my father (along with helpers) gathered some things and went to look for the four men. They were also given chains to take with them by the missionaries. By this time, the men had already run off into the bush.
A fair way into this tracking journey my father discovered eerie (human faeces) behind a bloodwood tree. This was a sign that he and his men were on the right trail. He predicted their trail continued on in the direction of Kendall River. They headed off in that direction, camping overnight.
That night at the campsite, one of the trackers went off to urinate. Presently he heard a tapping noise. (Nana demonstrates and clarifies that this is a common code or signal among people who are related to each other.)
Turning around he saw one of the men standing there and he immediately ran to tell my father. He spoke in language, informing my father that the men had requested cigarettes. My father coordinated the surrounding of the four (he received assistance from residents of Kendall River). One of the men just gave himself up, holding his hands out and saying ‘Come brother, come’.
They did not track back to Aurukun immediately but instead camped for several more nights in the area. My father did not chain the men as directed by the superintendent but let them remain free of the chains. They did not run away. On commencing their journey back to Aurukun they were chained.
Arriving at Yarnangoon my father fired a shot as a signal to the villagers that they were approaching the village. This prepared everyone for the men’s arrival. Superintendent MacKenzie went out with a boat known as Waterlily to bring them into the village.
The four men were to receive the punishment waiting to be inflicted on them. They were whipped twenty strokes each by the councillors. A couple of them were sent away to other places also. The whipping was carried out with the men lying across big drums on their stomachs.
‘This is a story told to me from a long time ago, from a time when my mother and father were still alive,’ says Nana.
It appears to me that my great-grandfather was his own man. From what Nana tells me, he was very rarely dictated to or controlled. He preferred to do his own thing and, as busy as he was fulfilling the basic expectations of the day, he remained in control of his own business.
Dick Kelinda obviously held a strong desire to keep law and order and peace within the village, and because he was active in this area he was respected and highly-regarded, not only by the missionaries but also by his own people. Nana remembers her father as a man who took music with him wherever he went. She tells of how he used to carry a bamboo pipe or a tin whistle and would play certain tunes, particularly Christian hymns, quite frequently. People would know he was nearby when they heard his music.
Nana’s father died in Aurukun in the late 1940s and was buried there. Nyrlotte, her mother, died at Thursday Island and was buried there on strange soil. In those days people from Aurukun and Weipa were sent to Thursday Island for serious medical treatment as the missions were unable to provide adequate hospital care. Nana did not attend the funerals of either of her parents, possibly because the lack of morgue facilities and difficult distances allowed too little time for burials. Nor did she ever consider returning to the land she grew up in as a child. Having been ordered by her father to return to Weipa, her own tribal country, to continue to learn the ways of Alngith, she loved the life she was now living there.
She already had a sense of belonging to this place. The old Alngith people, Kepas, Aaron and Annie York were still alive when Nana arrived at the waterfront. They continued the teachings her father had started with her, knowing full well that she was indeed of their blood, and just as they had an obligation to teach, she had an obligation to learn.
CHAPTER THREE
Dick and Nyrlotte Kelinda had given up their daughter to Uluchngoon, whose Anglo name was Roy George, a Mbaiwum man from Iunthun which is the country on the south-western side of Sudley cattle station, about sixty kilometres inland from Napranum. People from his area were called ‘timber country people’ and the people from along or near the coast were known as ‘sandbeach people’.
Nana’s marriage to my grandfather took place in 1942. She was eighteen years old. Immediately after the ceremony the couple left for Weipa. The journey was to be done on foot. Accompanying Nana and Grandad on this special journey were Matthew and his wife Mariah. These two were close relatives of Nana and of the Liningithi people. They would have known country well and had been chosen specifically by Dick Kelinda to accompany his daughter back to her tribal land. It was a significant journey and Dick Kelinda would have wanted her to be in good hands. Matthew, whom Nana refers to as ‘Old Matthew’, was the father of Lawrence Matthew, who became Nana’s adopted father in Weipa.
The other person on this trip was Benny George, the older brother of Roy. He too played an important role in the journey of his younger brother and new sister-in-law back home. The expertise of Matthew, Mariah and Benny ensured that the new couple travelled safely, were well fed and continuously taught along the way back to the traditional lands of Nana’s forefathers.
Nana explained to me how during the journey from Aurukun they lived off the bush—bush honey (kachuntha), wallaby (ngol/mburringan), brolga (ndreel), yams (lyee cheeig), and various wild bush fruits and nuts, such as luwarg (bush apple), mahtahl (beer nuts) and argarr (pandanasnuts). As night came, the men would gather what they needed to erect bush humpies: skinny tree trunks with thick bush branches over the top. A camp fire would keep the cool sting of the night off them, warming them until morning light. By the time the two women arose, Grandad and the other men would be returning to the camp wit
h wallaby and wild pig thrown over their shoulder, cleaned and ready to cook in the earth oven. Johnny cakes or flat jacks (damper cooked without baking powder) were made, or sometimes arrowroot ( a’oi, which is a kind of bush potato) was prepared beforehand and eaten as a substitute.
Bellies full and their belongings packed, they would set off again, covering considerable distances each day. This was the beginning of Nana’s married life to Grandfather. This was her introduction; eighteen, just married and on her way back home ... back to her father’s land ... her land.
Nana shared her memories of the trip with me. She told me how on the first attempt to set out for Weipa they had been caught in a big storm on the first night, prompting them to return to Aurukun. The next day they set off once more, determined that nothing would stop them again.
‘Well that day I bin come. That day after wedding ... I wondering what day I bin leave Aurukun. Anyway, I bin leave straightaway, after the wedding, and big lot families from Aurukun bin follow me and Old Man. And’e bin have Big old man, Benny George there too. ‘Frances Pitt’ (Anglican Service boat) bin leave him there. That day old man Matthew and Mariah, they bin come with chitch old man and we bin leave from Aurukun on a Friday ... only date I don’t remember. Big mob people bin follow me. Nearly half of Aurukun bin follow. They bin follow up to Elmeton swamp. Big camp bin there that night and chitch old man got paper barks makem humpy ... No use; we bin still get wet. So that night, we bin all go back Mission, and eh me two chitch bin stop with old people (Nana’s parents). Chitch Benny bin stop with Granny Dora, Gibson Jankai’s mother, you know, Aunty Irene’s husband?
Early morning again after breakfast we bin leave straightaway again. Again big mob people follow up to Elmeton swamp. When we bin reach there again about three o’clock, Chitch them two bin cut messmate. They bin make humpy; they bin make bunks owe don’t get wet ... high one like this table here. Old man same way ... them two Matthew and Mariah. We bin in long line, we bin sleep. We bin five days travel you know. Camp halfway four nights and on the fifth day we bin reach Moingam. From Moingam we bin walk to Prenjim. Then we make fire, smoke signal and after making smoke signal old man Lawrence bin come over with big canoe ... big dugout canoe; long one. That canoe can carry twenty people. Old Man Charcoal bin own that canoe, but he let old man Lawrence come for get me. And-eh we bin come over. Old Man Lawrence bin cry for me on the beach at Jessica Point, make me cry now when I think of it. We bin come over now. Them other people bin come meet me. But old lady Ethel proper cross-patch one, bin telling them to leave me alone. I bin go mission house the next day to look Superintendent Winn. ‘E bin good to me when I bin visit him. I bin then look J.G. Ward (mission cargo boat, J.G. Ward). I bin wonder why we walk on foot all the way? Boat there stand up more easy one to bring us, but never mind. I bin then remember where Old Man ... my Father bin tell me I should go for old lady; my Aunty Ida Paul, Thancoupie’s mother.’
Their journey from Aurukun to Weipa took them nearly five days. On arrival at Prejim on the south side of the Embley River, the group made a smoke-signal to get the attention of relatives who lived at the waterfront mission at Jessica Point. Before long, Lawrence Matthew was on his way over in a dugout canoe. That canoe belonged to Old Man Charcoal. He was a very tall man, extremely strong in appearance and stature and he adopted Nana as his own upon her arrival in Weipa. He knew she had left her father behind and yet this was indeed their traditional soil. She was still new and she needed to be guided and taught.
Nana thought of her father as she felt the Weipa sand under her feet. She could feel him strong at that point. It was as if they were connected, as if he knew that she had reached her home. She looked back and saw the others still unloading their belongings.
Nana’s father had given her the name of a relative in Weipa to contact. ‘You go and stay with Aunty’, he told her. This woman, Ida Paul, was the mother of Thancoupie (Kukoo Golly) and Joy Joyce Hall (Kukoo Joy). ‘Imogoi will look after you’, she was told. (‘Kukoo’ is a common term substituted for ‘cogai’. ‘Cogai’ refers to an aunty-type relation. This person must be older than your natural mother or father to have this particular title. She must also be a relative of either of your parents.)
Nana could hear her father’s commanding voice echo in her mind once more. ‘I must find Imogoi,’ she thought.
‘Come, we go,’ said the tall stern man who had canoed the tired travellers across the river to the village. After placing his hand upon Awumpun’s shoulder to signify her adoption as his daughter, he continued to lead them up to the waterfront mission. Her husband, Roy, was more accustomed to the ways of the Weipa people. Nana had a lot of familiarising to do, although this was the land of her people.
Walking up to the waterfront village, Nana was so tired that all she could think of was resting. She was young and strong, but the five-day journey had been tiring. The noise above her had been quite annoying too. There were warplanes flying in the area. They had flown over their heads as their party canoed their way across the river that afternoon.
Nana settled into her new environment and lifestyle quite well. In fact, she felt even more at home because these people were her own. Grandad built a house with the help of relatives. The walls were made of messmate (Eucalyptus tetradonta) bark and the roof was made of sheets of iron. It was off the ground, supported on solid wood stumps, so stability was guaranteed. Inside, an old stove stood in the kitchen. Furniture was as basic as you could get. There were a couple of iron-frame beds with a few extra mattresses, and in a corner of the kitchen was an old, solid, square wooden table on which they kept a few household items. Life was simple then. Grandad’s mother, old Ethel George, stayed with her son and his new wife. She helped Nana with the housekeeping tasks, as well as partnering her daughter-in-law in the hunting, gathering and preparation of traditional foods.
Life was busy. However, it was not long before the loud, high-pitched cry of a newborn could be heard in the house Roy had built. Nana gave birth in February 1943 to their first daughter, Annie (my mother), in the widow’s house at waterfront mission. The area today is part of Jessica Point State School’s playground.
Roy George, wearing his Army service medals, and Jean George, 1950s. Photo probably taken by Supt. James Winn.
This particular part of the community is special indeed. It holds so many memories of the past. I pass it every day as I drive into the school grounds and am always aware of what life might have been like during the 1940s and 1950s. My grandparents tended to and worked the grounds here and my mother played around this area as a child.
As a child myself attending the Napranum Primary School throughout the 1970s I could recall, in my mind, what once was my grandparents’ home still standing there next to the almond tree. I had always sensed a connection. It’s almost as if the ghosts of the past reveal themselves to my own spirit in the most subtle ways.
Besides her girl-child, Nana also gave birth to a son who was stillborn. Nana claims it was no surprise. She had dug up and eaten yams that were cursed. The yams came from an area where the owner was deceased. No one had clearance to access the area for hunting or gathering purposes, as was custom, and she had disregarded this during her pregnancy.
The former waterfront mission site (right) with the site of the dead man yam story (left) at Napranum (Photograph by Stef Furlong, 2001)
When she became unwell, late in the pregnancy, Nana was sent to Thursday Island by the missionaries, as the medical services on the mission could not have catered for her adequately.
She recalls:
I remember a Mr and Mrs Hopkinson had arranged it. The aircraft that took me was a Tiger Moth; it was them kind plane with no roof on top. I sat right near the engine and that made my ears burst ... that sent me sillier now. That night I went somewhat crazy ...
On the plane with me was also a minister, a St Barnabas one, and of course the pilot. When we landed at Horn Island, the minister began to pray for me. The loud noise from the engine m
ust have really affected me badly because I was acting badly ... really awful.
All the church ministers were there waiting for her—Mr and Mrs MacKenzie, Mr and Mrs Winn and Mr and Mrs Dougherty. Apparently they had heard of Nana’s condition and how she was deteriorating rapidly and they were concerned for her. Immediately after being admitted to hospital that day, she had given birth to her stillborn son. The missionaries visited her that night and they brought fruit and biscuits for her to enjoy. She was in hospital for about a month and returned home much healthier.
Back with Annie at the house Roy built, a small family of chooks began to grow and produce. An almond tree was planted at the side of the house. Three times the tree was run over and three times Nana put it back into the earth, determined that it would grow and produce fruit.
Fiona Doyle standing near the almond tree where Grandad and Nana built their house at the waterfront mission on their arrival at Jessica Point as newlyweds in the early 1940s (Photograph by Stef Furlong)
Because Roy was often away working, mainly at neighbouring outstations or wherever work was available, Nana became accustomed to hard work, fending for the three of them independently. Hunting, fishing for seafoods and digging up yams became practical necessities.
It was nothing for Nana to shoot a wallaby, skin it, cut it up and cook it. The meat would be shared among the other villagers. It was only right that the day’s catch, no matter how small, should feed as many village households as it could. There was a lot of respect, a lot of love and caring among the people. There was no ‘poison drink’ (alcohol) to pollute anyone’s mind. No ‘poison drink’ to make anyone lose control. Life had good meaning ... it had hope and purpose ... there was laughter in the distance, singing echoing through the air, and much happiness and fulfilment.
