by Fiona Doyle
Table of Contents
Title Page
whispers OF THIS wik woman
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
PREFACE
Artwork by author:
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
POSTSCRIPT
TIME LINE
BIBLIOGRAPHY
Copyright
whispers OF THIS wik woman
Fiona Doyle, born in 1969, was raised in Weipa’s Napranum community on Western Cape York Peninsula. A graduate of James Cook University (2002) and the National Islander and Skills Development Association, Sydney (1991), she continues to freelance theatre and dance performance. In 2003 she won the national David Unaipon Award for her entry, which was developed into this book. She recently moved to Brisbane with her three daughters and husband.
To my Granny
Awumpun (Jean George)
whose name and life story will
continue to exist in time
Permission has been granted to the author to print photos of loved ones who are now deceased.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I wish to thank the following people with my whole heart.
First and foremost, Awumpun (Jean George), for the invaluable knowledge and traditional regality you possess and continue to expound.
My families, both immediate and extended. Clan groups—Alngith/Liningithi Wikwaya, Mbaiwum/Troch and Apalich. Your existence feeds my creative spirit.
Brenda Patrick—wherever you are, Brenda, I hope you receive a copy of this book. The guidance, support, interest and opportunities you provided during my years at secondary school equipped me with the ability to use the English language as a tool to tell my grandmother’s story.
Bonnie Kapitzke, for giving up your valuable time and typing the original manuscript. I know it must have almost driven you mad at times but your becoming part of the process was indeed the turning point. Anne Monin, for your assistance in and contribution to the drafting stages of the manuscript. Queensland Writers Centre, for the opportunity to apply for and receive mentoring (as a result of receiving a highly commended in the Unaipon Awards 2001) by an experienced and knowledgeable Indigenous writer. Melissa Lucashenko, for your professional guidance and teachings during the mentoring process when I gained new insights as a writer. This process carried me to another level of writing. Geoff Wharton, for your invaluable, professional contribution from an historical perspective. The Tiplady children—Josef, Zavia and Rozanna—for lending your mother to assist in the long but exciting process.
Danny Doyle—what can I say? My black boy ... you are my rock! My three daughters, Sheridan, Justice and Ebony. How many times did you hear the words ‘not now, Mummy’s busy’? To Napranum Campus and RATEP. Carrie Gay and Rowena Short, your assistance contributed greatly in the process, even if you didn’t realise it at the time. The staff at the University of Queensland Press, in particular Sue Abbey. Sue, Nana’s story definitely has another mother. I am forever indebted to you for your support and great words of encouragement. Your time, consistent energy and keen sharp eye for detail has enabled this story to now flow. And last of all ... Stephanie Furlong-Tiplady (adopted mother of Whispers). Your inspiration, encouragement, assistance, guidance and unconditional love and friendship means so much. Remember I would say in the early days, ‘I bin conceive this book, but you bin help grow im up...’
Fiona Doyle
Oochunyung
PREFACE
For as long as I can remember, I have possessed a sense of knowing that I was strongly compelled and indeed destined to share my grandmother’s life story, in written form. My grandmother (my ‘Nana’) was an excellent storyteller and delighted in taking centre stage whenever the opportunity to teach or share came her way. I remember many a night curled up in her lap beside the campfire, the beautiful night sky over our heads, the land standing still, possessing a powerful silence that clearly introduced the privileged one ... the one who, for this night, had the duty of teaching her young ones aspects of their cultural ways.
I was raised by my grandmother, Awumpun, Jean George, so this earned her the position of ‘Queen Storyteller’, in my opinion. My grandmother’s storytelling technique is so familiar to me that I have now adopted elements of this approach and interwoven it with my own individual style.
I am truly blessed to have lived and grown up among my own people. I cherish the memories of my childhood, which I spent between the two communities of Napranum (Weipa South) and Aurukun, Cape York. Here families patiently and freely taught me all that I now possess in cultural knowledge.
Sweet, sweet images, as sweet as eginthak (sugar bag) itself occupy my mind, spirit and soul, whispering an urgency to pass it all on, fuelling my desire and challenging my ability to do so.
The beginnings of Whispers began to emerge during my mid-teens, on an old typewriter that Nana had bought me when she recognised my interest in writing. I plodded along, documenting things she had told me, knowing that one day I would need to refer to this information.
Moving to Sydney at the age of sixteen to study dance at the National Aboriginal and Islander Skills Development Association (NAISDA), I slowly began to see not only my grandmother but our culture, our lifestyle and our country in a different way, from a fresh perspective.
The smells that surrounded me no longer had the aroma of sugar bag or oochunyung (wattle flower); instead they were the smells of fumes from the exhaust of city traffic and cappuccino, as if these spirits owned the city. Instead of the call of mopoke or twal (eagle) filling the air, there was the endless drilling of construction work and of shopfront salesmen trying to lure you into buying their useless, cheap products. As the years progressed, I became accustomed to the new smells and sounds of this exuberant city and it did become home for a brief but enriching time in my life. And it was while living in Sydney that I recognised the need in me to share my grandmother’s story.
My first serious attempt at Whispers occurred in the mid to late 1990s when a number of incidents reminded me of my obligation and responsibility to document the life of this very special woman. Endless conversations with my good friend and mentor Steph Furlong-Tiplady inspired me to pick up the pen again. By now I was the mother of three girls—Sheridan (born 1992), Justice (born 1995) and Ebony (born 1999).
At this time I had little idea about how I was going to achieve something that would even vaguely resemble a book, let alone what it was going to take to get it into its final form. All I had was this nagging in my belly that kept me going.
In 2000 I began external study for my Bachelor of Education degree through James Cook University, Townsville. My youngest daughter was just nine months old. In January of that same year my grandmother suffered a stroke, the final impetus to complete this dedication to her life.
While studying, practising freelance performing and choreography, rearing my three girls and looking after Nana, I plodded along with consistent encouragement from Steph. It has been a long process with many disruptions, but finally I think—no, I know—the time for my granny’s story to go public has arrived.
This book is not intended to be a history lesson on Weipa or its people, but it is my desire to portray my grandmother as broadly as possible. Knowledge of her roots and her identity as a dignified Alngith woman is important to share and, occasionally, a slice of history as it has been taught to me will inevitably run alongside her story. This recorded information is based on stories passed on to me orally by the person to whom th
is book is dedicated ... my Nana.
The communities mentioned in this book include Aurukun, Napranum and Weipa. Weipa Mission was established by the Reverend Edwin Brown for the Presbyterian Church near Spring Creek on the upper Embley River in 1898. Aurukun Mission near the mouth of the Archer River was founded by the Reverend Arthur Richter, also for the Presbyterians, in 1904. In 1932 Weipa Mission was moved thirty-two kilometres (20 miles) downstream to Jessica Point and while it continued to be known as Weipa Mission, officially, it was also called the waterfront mission. (The original mission later came to be referred to as the ‘Twenty Mile’.) When the mining town of Weipa North opened in the mid-1960s, Weipa Mission was renamed Weipa South, but the people preferred to use the language name for the area, Napranum.
Nana has always believed, because her father and her Old People taught her, that she is Alngith. Her land lies on both sides of the Embley River, north and south, from Moingam (Hey Point) to Bung on the south side, and from Beening, to Barkly Yard Creek on the Mission River, to the first bridge on the north side. She naturally recognises the other different family groups who belong to the areas along and in between these areas and she proclaims they are all one people. Nana has lived her life believing that she can place one foot on one side of the river and the other foot on the other side of the river, a claim that is traditionally legitimate. However, non-Indigenous historians, anthropologists and even some of our own Indigenous people vary in their interpretations of our ‘main place’ or ‘Clan Estate’ system and have a different view on how the traditional cake should be cut.
My Nana insists to this day that everything she has said regarding who she is was taught to her by her father, and her claims will never change until the day she is taken from this world. I will always believe my grandmother regardless of what is said and believed by others, and her words will never cease to exist inside of me.
I have had the passion and desire to write about Nana in book form for a long, long time. I have written and rewritten many versions of her story, none of which has ever fully satisfied me. So much has happened in that time that has added to the excitement, happiness and pain of our lives. One of the motivators to complete this book has been the ‘Wik’ issue, but my main motivation is because Nana is an exceptional woman. There have been countless reasons, year after year, prompting me, speaking to my heart, to write her story and get history and knowledge across clearly in book form where it is in ink and will stay. This version may be criticised, it may be challenged, but it is our story and we believe it to be true.
Artwork by author:
Black cockatoo feather. These are set in the traditional headdress of the Wikwaya dancers.
Wikwaya ‘Sara bow’ used in the ‘Sara’ dance. The feathers are from the white cockatoo.
O’olay paanj (gecko), one of Awumpun’s totems.
Thieling (Amorphophallus sp.). A plant used in ceremonial dances oyol and qwarr, to chase oolay enor (cyclone) away.
Note: Through time spellings of some ancestral names (see Chart below) have undergone variations according to regional usage and linguistic origin.
CHAPTER ONE
Nana, I think of you all the time, you know,
I think of old days, of nowadays, of tomorrow.
I think of how you kissed me,
You cursed me, you nursed me,
You scolded me and told me of things
I must know.
Through laughter and happiness, we held hands endlessly,
Through pain and bitterness we kept going ... shamelessly.
One day I’ll reveal all that you’ve told me
The pain, the happiness, no shame ... that you gave me.
You gave me so much and you still give me more,
and now even still...
I will always restore.
She is sitting across from me. I notice her eyes look greyish now and they water constantly. She is yarning to me. I can see that she is so excited at what her memories are bringing back. She wants to share it all with me and she wants to pass it all down to me, so that her story can live on. She thinks that maybe I will forget her. How can I? It would be impossible to forget a woman who has played such an important part in my life.
Nana, whose English name is Jean George and whose language name is Awumpun, is Wik. Her language group is Alngith and her tribe is Wikwaya. She was born in either 1924 or 1925. The records show both years although Nana believes that it was 1925.
For as long as I can remember, Nana has been a significant part of my life. My mother, Annie Bandicootcha, gave birth to me in 1969 at the Thursday Island hospital but then became too ill to take care of me. It was Nana, along with my grandfather, who took me and reared me. Even though Mum recovered, got married and had three more girls, I remained with my grandparents. However, I kept in close contact with my mother, as is the case with many Aboriginal families in today’s society.
Front row, third from left: Fiona George, aged 7, Year 2, Jessica Pt State School, Napranum.
It was my grandparents who made most of the decisions concerning my upbringing, and, as a result of this, Nana often forgets that I am now an adult. She often tries to decision-make for me. When this is met with resistance from my end and with a gentle reminder that I am no longer that lost child I once was, an attempt is then made to target my three girls: her great-grandchildren. ‘Orr Sissy’, they would say, ‘we know what we doing.’
This confirmation of independence is often met with a frown from their great-granny, as she reluctantly withdraws. ‘Sissy’ is short for sister. In our kinship system a child refers to their great-grandmother (on either parent’s side) as sister. In regards to the male lineage, the great-grandfather (or great-grandson) becomes brother.
As I was growing up, Nana passed down to me her knowledge of kinship. She taught me language, boundaries, laws and customs. She would point out sacred places, and particular things with historical or sacred meaning in and around Weipa, within the boundary of the Alngith and the Liningithi people.
Nana never fails to address ‘the old people’, our ancestral spirits of the past, whenever we enter such places in and around the Weipa region. Places and areas that are sacred and of totemic significance are embedded in her mind. She also ensures that her descendants heed the customary practices, or at least have an awareness of the importance of the knowledge that is a part of our traditional structure. Her totemic spirits of the past, now in the form of birds, reptiles and other bush life, are constantly being spoken to. With the relationship to country grounded in her mind the traditions of the Alngith live on.
This tribal boundary stick (Yuk Puuyng) symbolises boundaries belonging to each of the tribes. People recognise this stick and will not enter another’s area, unless permission has been granted to do so. If neighbouring tribes or relatives wanted to pass the stick, they first sent word to the leaders of the tribe and awaited their response. If entry was made without permission, the trespassers were punished according to law. It is still used by the Wik people today at important meetings.
Nana casually shares information that is culturally significant to our structural foundation. Her teaching technique and approach is not formalised in any way. My learning was always part of conversations we were having, or maybe we happened to be on country, so it was relevant at that particular time, in that particular context. I never passed up an opportunity to absorb what was being shared in my presence and have disciplined myself to record the experience later, in written form.
Nana’s teaching is based on the old way, the way that establishes primary and secondary connections. It is important because today I have witnessed that the lore that determines your traditional identity has been tampered with and redefined by those who do not come from the same generation as my grandmother or do not clearly possess this deep knowledge of traditional structure. It is being redefined because, right before our eyes, members of family groups are being ‘clumped’ together under ‘one tribe’ headings. Thi
s is a misinterpretation. It is not traditionally correct and is slowly redefining people’s connections to country and, as a result, it is altering history.
According to the old ways, if you were born into a particular family group or tribe through your mother, your connection/identity would be a secondary one, a maternal one. Your stand is not as strong as another member who is connected through their father. Culturally, in Cape York the father determines a person’s primary traditional connection.
Nana is Alngith Wikwaya because her father, Dick Kelinda, is Alngith Wikwaya. Her mother, Nyrlotte, is Wik-Ngathan of the Apalich, and that establishes a secondary connection for Nana to her mother’s country. My mother, Annie Bandicootcha (Athailpun), is Mbaiwum/Troch, a connection established by her father, Roy George, my maternal grandfather.
My secondary connection is to Mbaiwum/Troch country through my mother. I am related to Alngith/Liningithi Wikwaya people through Nana. I have no primary connection to land, as my father is European. My three sisters, however, are Wanam because their father, Percy Bandicootcha Ornyageia, is Wanam.
The country you are traditionally connected to and the clan group or mob you descend from determine your totemic dreaming or your totemic ancestry. The dreaming of my three sisters is the Baby Story, Freshwater Crocodile and Bandicoot. The main dreaming of my mother is Oochunyung or Wattle Flower.
My older sister Lynette and I have connections to country and dreaming. These connections are established through our adoption by our stepfather and our maternal lineage through our mother and grandmother.
In order for me to use Oochunyung as a professional name, I needed permission from my mother. My intent in explaining this traditional structure is not to disqualify members of certain family groups but merely to preserve and share what my grandmother was taught, and, in turn, what she has taught her own descendants. Traditional protocol that determines cultural identity differs from region to region Australia-wide, but this is how it is with our people, in this part of the country.