Whispers of This Wik Woman

by Fiona Doyle

  My grandmother was still relatively young and strong when Grandad left, yet she never remarried or even hinted at the prospect of finding someone to step into the position that once belonged to my grandfather.

  I was fortunate enough to visit Somerset while on a sports trip to Bamaga; I was nine years old at the time. Jumping off the bus, I remember being so excited as I ran to the old broken-down house, where it stood, white-ant infested, falling apart, weeds and grass edging through every nook and cranny. I walked through the house, stepping from one area to the next, looking at where the rooms had once been. There was a sense of great history in and around that place, not only in the house but also among the big mango trees that stood nearby. I ran to the end of the road, looked out onto the Jardine River, and soaked in the memories of the tales I’d been told. Walking down the dirt track which took me to the beach area and the banks of the Jardine, I imagined how my grandfather must have walked down that track many times as a young man. I have not been back since, but I often wonder what remains there today.

  A young Roy George, in dark shorts, walking toward camera, Weipa Mission, 1936 (Qld Presbyterian Historical Records, N.F. Nelson Collection #297)

  CHAPTER FIVE

  There are many good memories for Nana of the mission times in Weipa. She recalls how Christmas in particular was joyous and full of fun. ‘People got together then’, she would say, ‘but not now; it is different. Everyone is for themselves, I notice.’

  She told me how for weeks leading up to Christmas all the dancers, especially the men, would start practising the dances they were to perform. Women and children started preparing costumes and props for the dancers. Singing and cheering could be heard from one end of the mission to the other; the sounds and excitement of celebration preparations would fill the air.

  Talking about this particular time of year prompted Nana to think of her husband. She told me how good a dancer Grandad was. I am told he also knew how good he was too. He was good because he loved to dance. He composed many songs in several dialects, including Thaynakwith and his own language, Mbaiwum/Troch. Grandad, like Nana, was multi-lingual. He also choreographed the ‘genarr’ movements (techniques) and actions to his own songs.

  Christmas Day would arrive and all of the performances would be displayed. Grandad would be ‘out there’ in the front, dancing his heart away, impressing all who were fortunate enough to witness this spectacle. The missionaries and the women from the village helped with the preparations and served the food. Fruit, fish, damper, fresh bread and beef were spread out on tables for feasting.

  Following the feast, people would come together to get the cleaning up finished. The dancers would then gather and singing would break forth. People were hungry for entertainment. Children sat with families, and those who did not dance just sat back to be entertained by the performance. Grandad would usually be in the front row, ‘styling up’ as usual. I do have memories of Grandad, strong and proud, dancing and being powdered. (The act of powdering or being powdered demonstrates that either the dancer is dancing impressively or that the person doing the powdering is a proud relative of the dancer.) Handing money (notes) to the dancer (originally a Torres Strait Island custom) is also a way of expressing admiration. Among the dances performed were traditional ones, like Qwarr and Oyol (traditional songs and dances of the people of Weipa— Qwarr is also translated as ‘to sing’). Thaipoo wasalwaysa favourite as well. Thaipoo is a dance in a traditional Islander style of dancing. Aboriginal people who lived close to the Torres Strait Islands adopted this particular form of dancing, and even the way they sang as they danced was similar in style and tune, the only difference being the language words. There were a few songs, however, where the pronunciation of some words were Torres Strait Islander pidgin. For example, the word ‘passage’ would be pronounced ‘passis’.

  With the dancing, the men challenged each other and the women also challenged each other to see who could outdo who. Occasionally, it would be the men against the women. The boys and girls also danced.

  The costumes for the male dancers were white singlets with red calico tied around the waist, and white strips of material around the ankles and upper arms. This was an imitation of the Torres Strait Islanders’ dress and not traditional to the Aboriginal style of Cape York. Many men from Weipa worked in the pearl and bêche-de-mer trades in Torres Strait from the early mission days to the 1950s. The influence of their Islander brothers’ and sisters’ sense of ‘style’ carried into the way Aboriginal people created and performed. They imitated everything from costumes to powdering their favourite performer, to throwing money in front of the dancers. People continued to perform their own traditional songs and dances, and to dress for them in the traditional way, but a new, different style had been brought to their attention as well, which brought diversity to their dancing and singing. Today, you see this ‘semi-Islander/Aboriginal’ style mainly in places like Lockhart River, Aurukun and Napranum, where the two cultures live side by side.

  Idiwira, which is Alngith for Bora or initiation ceremonies, were still practised in the early days, as the people constantly roamed their homeland in mobs. Men gathered for the ceremony and the young men were rounded up in order to be taught how to hunt, how to fight, and how to plan. Lessons were taught and demonstrated by the skilled and experienced and then tried out or imitated by the ones undergoing this very important sacred ceremony, while the elders watched. Young men on the verge of becoming officially recognised as competent males by the Elders had to go out and hunt, returning with their catch for judging. The same applied to techniques in fighting. The Elders demonstrated the use of traditional weaponry, with enemies and opposition, and then the young ones were put to the test. I cannot elaborate on what exactly went on at these ceremonies, because I am a female and this is only for the males of the tribe to disclose. This process is now not commonly practised in the area and Nana referred to it only briefly and lightly.

  Your grandfathers were good hunters too. We never went hungry with your grandfathers around. Willy and Roy George hunted: turtle, dugong, pig, wallaby, bird meat, anything. You name it, they could hunt it and bring it back for us. They cleaned it there where hunting ground and bring nyar [meat] back for us; clean one ready for kup mari [earth oven] and when they bring meat you see all the other villagers gather now for their share. Your grandfathers would cut the meat and share it out to people. ‘Here you take this one’, they would say.

  The majority of food in their diet came from traditional foods. Brolga, birds, geese, wild pig and wallabies were always plentiful, and yams ( eginthak or sweet one ‘Kachinther’) were gathered in a sugar bag. Oysters (kunthak) were cracked and tied in ti-tree bark, and acool shells (cha ay), cockle shells (armieeg) or mangrove wood ( ethol, a type of grub similar to witchety grub) or pri or tork were gathered. Pri is similar to thaar (whelk bait), except pri is traditionally eaten and thaar isn’t. Thaar is used as bait to catch fish. Tork is a type of snail and is Oolway to my mother. That is, it is a totemic ancestor to her people.

  Today, you can’t always find these foods quite as easily ... I suppose they are slowly disappearing now. We have to go long way if we want to eat bird meat, wallaby or pig. Lucky ... I can still dig yam or arrowroot [a’oi] for my family and me. I know where these foods still are today.

  Employment was available in the mission days but choices were limited. People took what was offered. Both men and women cut cordwood for use in mission wood stoves and also for sale to people on Thursday Island. There were also dairy cows. Milking took place in the paddock area, which is where the Old People’s home is now situated. This was a daily task for those men responsible.

  The farm back then was where the community’s Council Chambers now stands. Each family group was allocated a certain area for private farming use. They grew vegetables like potatoes, corn and cucumbers, and fruits like pineapples and watermelons. Stockwork was available out at the Twenty Mile, the site of the original Weipa Mission, and
up to twelve men could get work out there.

  Nana says that people were busy and hard workers. No one had time to sit back and be lazy. No one went off and binged on alcohol or sat around waiting for a handout. In order to eat, you worked. Men provided and women nurtured and hunted. Day in and day out, these responsibilities were practised. There was a pattern and routine in everyone’s lives.

  Work started early in the morning for the men and finished quite late. The women had to collect firewood by themselves to prepare dinner for their husbands, who were quite hungry by the time they arrived home.

  Wages were collected at the store. Five shillings per day was the amount collected, which was equivalent to fifty cents. Both men and women also took their day’s catch to the mission house where they were paid in the form of money, clothing or various necessities. The money was only ever enough to buy the necessities. Flour, tea, sugar, jam and treacle became the staple diet, supplemented by what was gathered or hunted. ‘There was never money left over after a visit to the store ... never,’ said Nana.

  Your grandfather and I had our own chooks. We tried to keep them and look after them, but the chooks were taken away from us ... you know! The missionaries did not want us to do anything for ourselves, probably. I think they wanted us to always go to them for anything and everything we needed. I really didn’t want to lose those chooks but, you know, we had to let them take those birds away. When we did have them, we always had our own eggs. Your mother and other relatives would go around picking all the eggs to bring them back to the house. It was good.

  Many of the bush foods required time and patience to find and to prepare. Yams (Dioscorea transversa) werea bush food that was readily available, even though it was hard work to gather them. A particular plant told the people that yam was there nearby under the ground. It was known as male yam. The female yam was recognised by little white flowers. The vine was found in the bush and followed down onto the ground where the digger would then mark out the area and start digging. Digging yam was unpredictable because sometimes the yam could easily be found not far from the surface and sometimes the person digging would find herself almost neck deep, following a healthy, large plant that had grown in all directions. A good yam digger simply refused to break the yam and would insist on digging until the vegetable came out intact. If an extremely big yam was found and pulled out whole, the digger would first take the yam and present it to their family or others, to show off their digging skills, before actually preparing it for cooking. Yams were washed and simply roasted on hot coals. Today, they are more often boiled or baked in the oven. Yam is a delicious vegetable and has a similar taste to cassava. Yams are still plentiful, especially around the Nanum area; a’oi, lyee kunthuk and a variety of bush fruits can also be found, depending on the season.

  The purple flower vine (Ipomoea pes-caprae) is familiar medicine to the Aboriginal people of Weipa. It is boiled and squashed and placed on sores, boils and wounds. People also drink the liquid to cure upset or painful stomachs. Traditional bush foods and medicinal plants are not as plentiful today as they used to be, although there are areas in and around the Weipa region where traditional foods can still be found.

  Eaten by people during the wet when it is plentiful is the ‘White Fruit’ (Flueggea virosa subsp. Melanthesoides) or a’orr.

  This is the shrub belonging to yellow dye (Morinda reticulata). The whole plant is dug up and the root is taken. It is then crushed or grated and boiled. While it is boiling, the pandanus leaves or ‘thooth’ string (used for making baskets and dilly bags) can be thrown in. Once they turn yellow in colour they are removed and dried, ready for weaving.

  Kwambranh (Hibiscus tiliaceus) leaves belong to the tree that fishing spears are made from.

  ‘Theiling’ (Amorphophallus sp.) grows in the scrub, mainly in and around the Nanum and Gonbung areas. This is the plant used in the dance to chase the cyclone away. The people bash the whole plant, leaves, roots and stalk in the salt water, while singing and dancing the Oyol dance.

  Two pandanus trees (Pandanus spiralis, ‘argarr’) at the point at Gonbung. These two trees are story or sacred, relating to Oolay Enor (totem cyclone) and must not be cut down or interfered with, according to the tradition of the tribal people here. Nana is standing in front of the trees with the Embley River behind her.

  The waterfront mission was built along the beach overlooking the Embley River (having relocated there from Spring Creek on the Upper Embley in 1932). The men of those days built houses that suited their families. These small but comfortable houses stretched from one end of the seafront at Jessica Point, all along to where the Napranum Preschool now stands. A line of fully matured mango trees as well as an assortment of different coloured frangipanni now indicate which family groups once occupied certain areas of the village.

  The main mission house and the girls and boys dormitories were situated where the Elders village now stands. This particular area has an excellent view overlooking the Embley River. As a child I remember playing in and around what was once the old church. The old mission house remained standing until it was pulled down to give way to new housing in the late 1990s.

  The waterfront mission was run by the Presbyterian Church. In her reminiscences Nana consistently refers to the then superintendent as ‘Super Winn’. Superintendent James Sidney Winn and his wife, Mrs Betty Winn, were in charge of the mission from 1938 to 1963. The church handed over control to the Department of Aboriginal and Islander Affairs in February 1966.

  With the handover, the Weipa villagers again experienced a change of location. The houses that had been built by the people themselves were torn down and they were accommodated in an area about 500 metres from the waterfront. ‘Matchbox houses’ were built during the establishment of the Department of Community Services. I remember Nana saying, ‘Your sister was only baby when we moved up to new house.’ Lynette, my sister, was born in March 1965.

  Those waterfront mission memories are sweet for Nana and many others of her generation. I think it was the absence of alcohol and drugs that makes our Elders recall the mission times as good times. However, sweet memories are in contrast to the stories that I have heard of these people, my people, and how they were treated. Adults were whipped and beaten if they spoke back impolitely to the missionaries or if they committed what would be considered ‘minor’ offences today.

  Many mission stories are astonishing. They tell of punishment that would be unacceptable today, yet when our mothers and grannies talk of these times there is hardly a sign of bitterness or anger—just sadness. Sometimes now they laugh as they recall those days; time has softened them.

  During my childhood and now adult years, Nana has told me story after story. I have gasped in horror at some of them, cried silently in my heart and hung my head in embarrassment in my most private moments. The abuse and punishments carried out by the missionaries were clearly degrading and dehumanising, yet it is evident that the missionaries have been forgiven. There is no hate and no resentment in the grannies, the mothers, the aunties and the uncles who I have heard talk of the days gone by, though some of their stories are heart-breaking. Nana remembers an incident that occurred in the 1940s that shows the missionaries more human side.

  ‘Pack your things—quick!’ The white man’s voice sounded uneasy as he went from house to house giving the order. The villagers wondered what was going on, as they hurriedly went around gathering their things. ‘What for, Super?’ asked one brave man. The Superintendent stopped abruptly, looking around to see who dared to question his command. Superintendent Winn was familiar with giving orders, but not with justifying or explaining them.

  ‘If you must know, young man,’ he answered, clearing his throat and sounding rather annoyed. ‘A mine bomb has been spotted floating around the Embley. The village must be evacuated immediately. Go and help get the canoes ready. Quick, get to it!’

  Each family chose an area to set up camp at Bung Point. Nana was quite surprised that Superint
endent Winn was to spend that night at their camp.

  ‘Why is that white man sleeping at our camp?’ she whispered to Roy while gathering firewood. Roy did not answer but gave her a look as if to say that she should just treat him with respect and show him hospitality. ‘He must earn my respect,’ Nana thought to herself as she swung the bundle of wood up on her head and began walking back to the camp. ‘The white man must be a friend to laugh with and not a master to fear,’ she thought as she mixed the flour and water to make a dough. Beside her, the hot coals glowed, ready to serve as an earth oven.

  That night they enjoyed hot ashes damper and billy tea. Superintendent Winn had brought his own supplies, which he freely shared at Nana and Grandad’s camp during the stay at Bung.

  I recall Nana saying that the stay did not last long at all. A week, probably, at the most. Once it was declared safe to return to the Mission, the people returned to the waterfront. Nana, being the type of person she was, would have been very curious about this man of authority being so close in proximity. She obviously witnessed a more human Superintendent Winn than she was accustomed to. She would have realised that behind that harsh authoritarian exterior was just a man, just someone she could have a laugh and a yarn with. In hindsight, I would say this relevation was a powerful realisation to Nana, as I have witnessed my grandmother treat any white man she has had contact with the same. From my perspective, I see her philosophy as, ‘you treat me with respect, and I will treat you likewise’.

  Nana shared another story about Superintendent Winn with me. One day she was taking a can of peaches up to the mission house. Just as she arrived she saw one of the horses kick Superintendent Winn and knock him to the ground. He had apparently been rubbing the horse’s behind when the horse kicked out. The missionary grabbed the can of peaches off Nana and flung it at the horse, ‘cracking it’. Nana and everyone who witnessed the incident did not know whether to laugh or to feel sorry for the person who they had been taught to hold in high regard. Superintendent Winn was in fact injured and needed medical supplies that were not available at the mission. He sent word to Aurukun to Superintendent MacKenzie requesting supplies, and it was Dick Kelinda and Nyrlotte, Nana’s father and mother, who walked on foot all the way from Aurukun to deliver the goods. Nana informed me that the superintendents kept in communication with each other and depended on each other for support and assistance. Neither Mum nor Nana knew why Dick and Nyrlotte Kelinda had walked from Aurukun with the supplies, but possibly the mission boats that brought goods to Weipa were away and in use, as it was war time. Nana was naturally pleased to have this opportunity to see her parents. Apparently Mr Winn had been kicked in the ribs and was confined to bed for a week.