Follow the Rabbit-Proof Fence

by Pilkington, Doris

  The next stop would be their final destination—the Moore River Native Settlement—the place that the three girls from Jigalong had travelled hundreds of kilometres to reach. It was intended that this would be their home for several years, and where they would be educated in European ways.

  Only twelve months before this, Mr A.J. Keeling, the Superintendent at the Government Depot at Jigalong, wrote in his report that, “these children lean more towards the black than white and on second thoughts, think nothing would be gained in removing them”. (Department of Native Affairs file no.173/30.) Someone read it. No one responded.

  In a letter dated 4 August 1931, to Constable Riggs, the Chief Protector of Aborigines advised him that,

  the three girls and Mimi-Ali arrived safely, and were met by Matron Campbell of this Department, the party being taken to Perth in the ambulance with Mimi-Ali. The latter is now safely installed at the Perth Hospital, and the girls Daisy, Molly and Chrissy [Gracie] at Moore River Native Settlement. The girls seemed to be very scared of the other children, and required watching to prevent them from running away. We have experienced this condition of mind before, and have always found that they soon accept the inevitable and fall in with the usage of the place.

  (Department of Native Affairs file no.173/30)

  7

  The Moore River Native Settlement, 1931

  The road out to the settlement was almost totally underwater. This made the trip laborious and stressful. The engine strained as the car swayed from side to side and the wheels slid over the muddy road.

  “There have been scattered showers all day,” Matron Campbell told the girls as they peered anxiously through the windows. “You’d better pull the blankets over your legs,” she said, glancing at the thunder clouds rollings over in the west. “It’s going to pour down with rain soon.” She was worried but there were enough of them to push the car if it got bogged in the soft, clay road.

  The trip had taken longer than usual and it was almost dark when they arrived at the settlement. The place was shrouded in fine misty rain and lit only by lights in the centre of the compound. Miss Campbell parked near the staff quarters and the girls waited in the car while she went inside.

  “Where’s everybody?” whispered Gracie, as she leant closer to the window.

  “I don’t know,” replied Molly softly, glancing curiously around her.

  She expected to see at least some of the residents but there was no one about, the whole place seemed to be deserted. Miss Campbell emerged from the stone and lattice staff quarters with another woman.

  “These three,” she said, pointing to Molly, Daisy and Gracie, “came all the way from Nullagine.” The three looked at each other silently. They wanted to tell these midgerji that their home is Jigalong not Nullagine.

  “The other one, Rosie, comes from Moora,” Miss Campbell said as she handed over to the woman. Then she disappeared behind the trellised building.

  “Come with me,” said Miss Evans. “I’ll take you to your dormitory. This way.”

  They followed her through the slushy compound to a wooden building. As they approached they noticed that the door was locked with chains and padlocks. Molly saw that the uninviting weatherboard and latticed dormitory had bars on the windows as well. Just like a gaol, she thought, and she didn’t like it one bit. The four girls stood around in the cold, their arms folded across their chests trying desperately to control the shivering. They were glad when Miss Evans undid the padlocks, opened the door and invited them to follow her into the already overcrowded dormitory. There were beds everywhere.

  “These are your beds, you can choose whichever one you’d like to sleep in. You can please yourself, alright,” she said as she turned to leave. She paused, then added, “Eh, I nearly forgot to tell you about the lavatory. Use one of those buckets in the bathroom,” she said. “See over there.”

  Four heads turned in the direction which the woman was pointing but she didn’t wait for confirmation, she was anxious to return to her comfortable room next door, behind the white-washed stone wall.

  Molly, Daisy and Gracie selected the three beds nearest to them while Rosie took the one at the other end. The girls found it very difficult to sleep on the hard mattress. They lay feeling cold and lonely, listening to the rain falling on the tin roof. Gracie could stand it no longer, she sneaked quietly to Molly’s bed. “Dgudu, I can’t sleep,” she whispered. “I’m cold. I’ve only got one rug.”

  “I am cold too, so bring your rug over here and sleep in my bed,” Molly told her shivering young sister.

  As Gracie snatched up her rugs Daisy sat up and whispered, “I’m cold too, Dgudu.”

  “You can sleep jina side,” Molly told Daisy, who was already throwing her blanket across the bed.

  So, for the rest of the night the three of them cuddled up in the single bed. Very early the next morning they were awakened with a start by a strange voice yelling loudly, “Come on, girls, wakey! wakey! Rise and shine.”

  The woman went to the first bed and pulled the blankets off the child’s head and shook her vigorously then moved on to the next bed and repeated the performance. The new girls were surprised to see the same small, slim woman who had escorted them last night, rushing around peeling the warm rugs from the sleeping children, who mumbled angrily as they were forced to stumble out onto the cold wooden floor. This was a ritual that Miss Evans, the staff member in charge of the dormitories, conducted every morning without fail.

  When she came to Molly’s bed she stared at the three girls who were now sitting on top of the bed. “Eh, yes, you are the new arrivals. There are four of you, isn’t there? Alright, you all make your beds, then go up and have some breakfast at the dining hall. One of the others will show you where it is.”

  Molly, Daisy and Gracie were able to observe their surroundings and dorm mates more closely in the morning light. They saw that the other girls were just as curious as they were.

  “Where are you lot from?” they wanted to know.

  “We come from Jigalong,” Molly answered without hesitation.

  “Where’s that?” asked someone from the other end of the dorm.

  “Up north,” said Molly quietly, she didn’t want to say too much to these strangers. She was glad when one of them came over to tell them that she would take them and show them around later.

  “But you’d better make your beds first,” she said. This was easy, you just straightened the blanket over the mattress. There were no sheets on the beds. They were stored away to be issued only on special occasions to impress special visitors.

  “I am Martha Jones. I’m from Port Hedland,” said this friendly girl who had volunteered to be their guide. “I’ve been here for one year now. I came from a station to go to school, then the government gunna send me back to my family to work for the station,” she said proudly.

  She must have been about fifteen but there was no way of verifying that because, like so many others at the settlement, her birth wasn’t registered. The trio from Jigalong liked her instantly. She was a treasure, full of information about everything concerning the settlement and what they could expect while they lived there.

  “It’s not bad once you get used to things here,” Martha told them. The four girls had their doubts about that but said nothing.

  The sound of the dining room bell cut short any further conversation. Everyone stood up, patted their beds smooth then headed for the narrow wooden door.

  “Come on, we’d better hurry up or we’ll end up with cold breakfast,” said Martha, leading the way outside. In single file they trailed behind her into the wet, drizzly morning to have their first meal in confined conditions.

  Opposite the girls’ dormitory, the boys were teeming out of their own quarters and were making their way over the slushy compound to join the girls for breakfast. This was usually a plate of weevily porridge, bread and dripping washed down by a mug or a tin of lukewarm, sweet, milky tea. All inmates of the compound had their me
als in the communal dining room. Like breakfast, the other meals were the most unappealing fare ever served to any human being. Offal collected from the slaughterhouse and taken down to be cleaned and cooked on the coals of a big fire lit on the banks of the river, was more tasty than what was provided by the cook and staff at the kitchen.

  After breakfast Martha Jones escorted them outside.

  “Eh look, it might fine up later,” she said with cheerful optimism as they descended the wooden stairs onto the wet gravelled path that led back to the dormitory. Just as Martha was about to open the door one of the older boys called out to her.

  “That’s my cousin-brother Bill,” she explained. “Our mothers are sisters.” The girls from Jigalong understood, as they were also daughters of sisters.

  “Go inside and wait for me,” she told the four nervous new girls. They weren’t sure whether to go inside or wait for her outside. They watched as she started to run but stopped suddenly because she found that the ground was not only slushy but very slippery. Her bare feet made a squelching noise as the mud seeped between her toes. The two cousins met in the middle of the compound and stood talking softly for a few minutes, then parted. While they were waiting for Martha to come in, Molly, Daisy and Gracie whispered in Mardu wangka, their own language.

  “I don’t like this place,” whispered Molly. “It’s like a gaol. They lock you up at night time and come and open the door in the morning.” They had all noticed the bars across the windows and were really scared of them.

  Martha returned to the dormitory and sat on one of the beds near the girls. They were able to have a really good look at their new friend. She was a very pretty girl with short cropped, straight black hair and hazel eyes, but best of all she had a beautiful sparkling smile that made you feel good.

  “Bill just wanted to know who you all were and where you came from,” Martha said. “He will pass the information on to the rest of them.” New arrivals always created great interest but most importantly hope. Hope of news about relations back home.

  The rest of the morning was spent in the dormitory sharing information and stories. After lunch the weather had fined up but there were strong gusts of wind blowing across the compound and it was beginning to feel quite cold. Martha Jones suggested they go for their walk. She stood up, gave a cursory glance around the dorm, then called to her friend Polly Martin who came from Onslow on the north coast.

  “You coming with us,” she asked her.

  “Where are you going?”

  When Martha explained that she wanted to take the new girls for a walk around the place Polly joined the small group.

  “Yer, that’s better than sitting just looking at each other,” she said.

  They decided to go behind the dormitory, then follow the trail along the cliffs overlooking the brown, foaming river. The path on the cliff edge was covered with loose, fine pale sand. The slopes were rough, dotted here and there with small, thick shrubs. Loose stones on the slopes made them difficult and hazardous to climb. Behind the girls was the “Big House”: the superintendent’s residence.

  “Do you want to go down and have a closer look at the river?” Martha asked, looking at each one in turn.

  “Yes,” they responded with enthusiasm. As they were about to pass by the milking sheds, they heard a lot of shouting, yelling and laughter, which seemed to be coming from the flat on their left.

  “Hey Martha and Polly, come down and have a game of rounders with us!” a group of girls called.

  “You girls want to have a game?” asked Martha. The newcomers shook their heads. “Well, that’s alright, we’ll go down this way, you’ll be able to get a closer look at the floods.”

  Polly waved to the crowd at the football oval and shouted loudly, “We’re taking the girls for a walk while it’s fine.”

  “Alright we’ll see you later.”

  The river and the flats on either side were full to overflowing. To the girls from the East Pilbara region, this chocolate-coloured river was a new and exciting spectacle, quite different from the normal pinky coloured salt lakes, creeks and rivers back home. This sight only made Molly more aware that she was a stranger in this part of the country, as were all the others in this small group.

  We are all cut off from our families, she thought and was overcome with a deep longing for the dry, rugged, red landscape of the Pilbara. Still, sighed Molly, you couldn’t help being fascinated by the swirling currents and the frothy white foam that clung to the trunks of the paperbark trees and the tall river gums. As they rounded the bend of the rough road, still stepping cautiously trying to miss the muddy puddles, they were surprised to see about six or seven girls, one aged around seventeen, with a group of girls eight years old or perhaps younger, all wading across the icy cold water. The eldest girl, Edna Green, was showing the youngsters how to cross to the other side by using a long stick to measure the depth of the water. The smaller girls were following their leader, their cotton shifts were tucked into their bloomers.

  “Why are they doing that?” asked Rosie, who couldn’t understand why anyone would go walking in the freezing river on a cold, wet day.

  “Just for something to do, that’s all,” Martha told her.

  “When it’s not raining we go for long walks all over the place,” said Polly. “But you see that big rock over there,” she said, pointing across to the far side of the river. “Well, that’s a woodarchies cave. Don’t go over that side.”

  “What are these woodarchies?” asked Rosie.

  “Woodarchies are little hairy men. Someone saw them for real, you know, no make up,” she said seriously.

  “They must be same as marbus,” whispered Molly. “This is marbu country. We can’t stay here, they might kill us,” she added glancing at the grey limestone rock jutting out from behind the thick bushes.

  She turned to her two younger sisters and was about to speak when Rosie, who was still watching the river crossing, asked Martha, “What will they do when they cross the river?”

  “They will walk along the banks on the other side and when they find a safe spot Edna will decide to cross back over. And if anyone falls in they will make a big fire and stay there until all their clothes are dry then return to the compound.”

  “See you later,” the girls said to Edna and her followers, and they continued their stroll along the muddy path up to the first paddock. Polly and Martha decided that this was as far as they were going this afternoon. They stood admiring the pleasant view from the bottom of the hill which was covered with the golden blooms of acacia shrubs and occasional bushes of bright pink flowers.

  “I don’t feel like climbing the hill,” said Martha. “But if you do I suppose I’ll have to come too.”

  Nobody wanted to clamber up the stony cliffs so they retraced their footsteps to where they had started.

  The group were passing the spot where Edna Green’s girls had made their crossing when a shrill whistle filled the air and echoed through the trees. It startled them as each one was deep in her own thoughts. They all followed the sound that came from high above them.

  The whistler was leaning on the trunk of a wattle tree and he waved to them. Polly beamed as she returned the friendly gesture. The handsome lad, who was almost eighteen, beckoned her to join him on the cliffs. She shook her head then pointed to the four girls, hoping that this would explain why she couldn’t meet him.

  “That’s Polly’s boyfriend, Jack Miller, from Mt Magnet. They gunna get married when he gets a job on a station or farm somewhere,” Martha whispered as they walked ahead, leaving Polly behind to send hand signals to her beau who was now sitting on the edge of the cliff.

  Polly caught up with them as they approached the cow shed. They were greeted by the cheering spectators and team mates of the winning rounders team. The crowd at the football ground had increased while they were walking along the river. Polly and Martha introduced two of the older boys to the newcomers. As they were talking they were interrupted by someo
ne shouting loudly from a nearby building.

  “Hey, who’s out there?” inquired a pathetic voice from inside.

  “It’s me, Martha Jones and Polly Martin and four new girls.”

  “Can you tell my sister to bring me some meat and damper, and some tea too?” the girl asked. Her voice sounded so alone and unhappy.

  “Yeah, I tell her,” promised Polly. Molly, Gracie, Daisy and Rosie looked hard at the grey square building.

  “What is that place?” asked Rosie, doing the talking for the other three.

  “That’s the ‘boob’, they lock anyone in there for punishment,” Martha explained.

  “What did that girl do?” asked Rosie.

  “Who? Violet Williams? She’s locked up for swearing at Miss Morgan, the teacher. She’s lucky, she’s only in there for two days,” Martha told them about the others who had been incarcerated in the “boob”.

  “You should have seen the other ones who were locked up for running away,” she said. “They all got seven days punishment with just bread and water. Mr Johnson shaved their heads bald and made them parade around the compound so that everyone could see them. They got the strap too.”

  “Oh, poor things,” said Rosie.

  “Everybody felt sorry for them, those three from Carnarvon,” Martha said.

  “Did they get far?” asked Rosie.

  “No. They only got as far as Jump Up Hill, along the railway line between Gillingarra and Mogumber. They knew that the train that goes through to Geraldton slowed down there. So they waited there ready to jump into one of the goods vans. The black tracker found them there. The girls pleaded with him to let them go but he wouldn’t listen, he just whipped them with his stock whip,” Martha said, with anger in her voice. “He made them walk all the way back, without a break, while he rode his grey stallion like a white policeman.”

  “Anybody get away properly—without being caught?” enquired Rosie.