And So It Goes…….

I began blogging in 2013 at ‘For Love of Gaia’ (Homepage). ForLoveofGaia explores the intersections of life experience, culture, religious and spiritual beliefs (spiritual ground), the emerging theories and philosophy of new science, and practice/spiritual matrix (performance, ritual, performance-ritual). Since the I have extended to writing about ancestral journeys such as, Elizabeth Pulley Sets Sail and other stories and From Miller to Rope, the Matriarchs as well as uploading a visual summary and the text for the performed elements of my thesis, Centre of the Storm.

[i] The Triads of Britain as quoted in Pennick, N. Celtic Sacred Landscapes, UK, Thames & Hudson, 1996

International Women’s Day 2023: Remembering Margaret Chapple, ‘Chappie’

This year for International Women’s Day I wish to honour the life of one of my teachers and sources of inspiration – that of Margaret Chapple, ‘Chappie’ (1923-1996).

What is enlightening when I began to research her online was how little information there is about her legacy, which says a lot about her personality. Most of the information available focusses on her early life as a dancer with Bodenwieser Dance Company and that she continued Gertrude Bodenwieser’s vision of “endeavouring to live in truth, simplicity and spirituality” by establishing Bodenwieser Dance studio at 18 City Road Chippendale in partnership with another Bodenwieser dancer Keith Bain.

I remember well the regular treck to and from the studio during the 1970’s, 80’s and 90’s for her contemporary classes and rehearsals as well as jazz classes taught by Keith Bain and others, and contemporary classes by Mira Mansell and others. Chappie refined her own philosophy and technique, which she extended into a day-time course to include improvisation and choreography. The studio also became the place where teachers and choreographers who were visiting from overseas ran classes and workshops, including from international folk dance companies,

From my point of view, her greatest legacy was as a teacher. She was unassuming, caring and supportive and in her quiet way, fanned the embers of our love for dance, creativity and performance. She also gave opportunities for students to perform in a professional context, on the stages of large Sydney theatres at the annual end of year extravaganzas. Her husband, Les Humphrey, would compile beautiful photos of these performances, some of which were featured on the studios entry walls.

I imagine for many of us Chappie’s shock death during heart surgery in 1996 was felt as a great loss and marked the end of an era. As the late Keith Bain wrote in his eulogy, “Moreover she has been the chief influence and the turning point in thousands of lives and careers”.[1]

“At the inaugural 1997 Australian Dance Awards, Chapple was posthumously inducted into the Hall of Fame.”[2]

Remembered with love and thanks from one of thousands of your ‘dance children’.

© A. Maie, 2023

[1] Keath Bain, Eulogy for Margaret Chapple, (Ausdance?), September, 1996, p. 11.

[2] About Margaret Chapple

Revisiting Australian History: ‘The Colony’, ‘People of the River’, ‘A History of Aboriginal Illawarra Vols 1 & 2’ and ‘The Story of Djeebahn/Deeban’

Karskens, G. People of the River: Lost worlds of early Australia. Australia, Allen & Unwin, 2020

I had carried out, what I considered to be at the time, extensive research of colonial Australian history over 20 years ago when I embarked on our family history.[1] Last year I had reached the moment in the story when my First Fleet convict ancestors, Elizabeth Pulley and Anthony Rope, were on the verge of moving out to the Nepean-Hawkesbury rivers (Dyarubbin).

Simultaneously, through various articles, documentaries and networks, I was introduced to the work of Emeritus Professor of History Grace Karskens, who had uncovered old diaries written by Reverend McGarvie in 1829 with Dharug and Darkinyung place-names and words[2] and was working with local Dharug peoples to bring the information to the attention of the Australian public.

One of the outcomes of that research and collaboration was ‘People of the River’.[3] Intrigued I decided it was time to update my research and bought the book.

Karskens presentation of the history of Dyarubbin is broad and meticulously researched – covering the environmental and human pre-colonial history of the area in deep time and evidence of cultural and agricultural life, as well as the complex and uneasy story of the arrival of the British and other settlers and what eventuated.

What differs from other Australian history records I’ve read is the way in which she attempts to view and write about these events from multiple perspectives – that of the Original Inhabitants and landholders, that of the ex-convicts and convicts who began arriving in the area from 1794, and that of the free settlers and wealthy, identifying their names where known – and how change was a constant for everyone as the Fleets continued to arrive.

In addition she does not avoid confronting and detailing the conflicts, wars and massacres that exploded along the river between the Aboriginal families, clans and nations and the new arrivals: naming players and places (giving the original Indigenous name where known), identifying where the triggers and orders originated, and unravelling where possible the intricate web of cause, effect and motivation.

So pleased I purchase the book. So much more had been uncovered than I expected and knew. It was enlightening. I decided to buy ‘The Colony’ as well.

Karskens, G. The Colony: A History of Early Sydney. Australia, Allen & Unwin, (2009) 2010

This is the first published of the two works and sets the style for the later People of the River. Beginning with the deep time history of the environment and the Original Peoples and their cultural expression and life around Sydney/Warrane[4] it continues, as would be expected, with the temporary arrival of Captain Cook in 1770, and then the permanent arrival of the First Fleet in 1788 – the berewalgal (people from far away or across the sea).

The pre-Dyarubbin story of colonisation/invasion is forensically examined. As the story unfolds and the settlement begins to expand there is general overlap in the two books but not in detail. The different ways in which the material has been thematically organised, and the amount of information gathered during the research has meant that it has been possible for similar stories to be told from different perspectives, emphases and with different minor characters in play. Much to learn and understand.

What I especially love about The Colony is that it also names and includes the stories of a number of First Nations peoples who were known to the British and had survived the smallpox and influenza epidemics, conflicts, wars, massacres and had found ways to live around the British. I can’t say ‘with’ the British because we were always viewed, and still are, as intruders on land that belongs to them.[5] Perhaps ‘in spite of’ is a more appropriate phrase. Their names keep popping up throughout the book. So many names of First Nations peoples around Sydney Cove/Warrane and the Sydney basin/Dharug country that were known and I have never heard of. These people have been ignored and forgotten in the white-colonial focus of Australian history previously written and taught in school when I was growing up.[6] So much of a gap. Unforgivable. I hope it is changing.

Having begun this journey I decided to also follow up and learn more of the history of Dharawal country, where I spent my childhood.

Donaldson, M., Bursill, L., Jacobs, M. A History of Aboriginal Illawarra, Volume 1 – Before Colonisation. Australia, Dharawal Publications, 2016.

I loved reading this book and came away with deep regret that I had never been taught this when I did my schooling on Dharawal country, and how rich and meaningful it could have been to have been introduced to Dharawal and Dhurga culture and life. How our dad would have also loved to have known this deep history in our backyard.

Written by Dharawal academics and educators it covers,

Dreaming and the Law

Land, Forests

Middens

Totems

Fire

Art

Knowledge

Power and Healing

People of the Sea

Crossing borders (trade and sharing ceremony across clans and nations)

Our future

In the last chapter, Our Future, they write:

“Over 1,000 generations Dhurga and Dharawal Elders and their forbearers have maintained Illawarra, and they have good reason to be proud of their achievements. Illawarra’s Aboriginal population roughly equals its pre-invasion peak and Dhurga and Dharawal culture continues to gather strength.” (p. 27)

Bursill, L. The Story of Djeebahn/Deeban: The Bay of Orcas and the Creation Serpent. Australia, Dharawal Publications, (2012), 2017.

I am inserting my response to this publication here as it draws the focus of A History of Aboriginal Illawarra Volume 1 to the area around Deeban/Port Hacking River.[7] This compact book was written by Traditional Dharawal Knowledge Holder the late Les Bursill OAM and edited by Mary Jacob, lecturer in Early Childhood Development at Sydney Institute of TAFE.

The Story of Deeban is a summary of the deep history of the area. the extensive evidence of pre-colonial Dharawal life along the river – rock art, tool making, ceremony, the archaelogical discoveries of Bursill and his wife – as well as that of the first European settlers. Original Dharawal names are given where known as well as the background to some of the people whose names are now carried in the area – Hacking (Port Hacking) and Gray (Gray’s Point). The final chapter introduces plants traditionally used for food and medicine.

Again I would have loved to have learned this at school and the book itself is suitable as a text. I hope all primary schools in the area have purchased and are teaching from it.

Donaldson, M., Bursill, L., Jacobs, M. A History of Aboriginal Illawarra, Volume 2 – Colonisation, Australia, Dharawal Publications, 2017

This book was not an easy read. I wasn’t prepared for the different ways in which history can be told: that reading well-researched events, from both colonial and state records and family histories, told by Dharawal academics and educators, could differ so much in impact to those same histories told by white historians. I am still trying to get my head around it.

To read these stories and events and the repercussions they repeatedly had on family lives, who are named and have spoken of their experience and action, is devastating. Underlying all was the taking of everything: land and children, and moving families on, again and again and again and… This process continued even as Aboriginal individuals and families were working for the white man on their own land. And then if anyone finally had enough money to set up house they had to buy their own land back from the white man and still hope that they would not be moved on again. Of course this occurred everywhere around Australia. I knew that. This book brought it home for me.

This volume begins with ‘Strange Beings from Over the Sea’: the watched progress up the coast of the Endeavour carrying James Cook and company, the attempted landing at Botany Bay challenged by armed warriors of the Gweagal clan of the Dharawal nation, the musket-fire response that wounded two Gweagal men, the invader’s plundering of a nearby camp, the booty of which ended up in a Cambridge University museum, and their cutting down of trees and pollution of a spring. Then there was the 1788 Fleet which also arrived in Botany Bay/Kamay, made a mess and then more or less left the area alone.

It wasn’t until the arrival of the whalers and sealers in the Illawarra in 1801, who would call into the bays to refresh on the way further south, followed by the illegal loggers not long after who would decimate the forest of the sacred cedar trees[8] that things really came to a head. Then there were the wealthy settlers who would be handed out thousands of acres of land for free by the government and function as absentee landlords while their farms were managed by convicts and ex-convicts. No wonder the south coast ended up another war and massacre zone for decades.

I was also not aware that rampant discrimination and racism was still continuing not that far south from where I was growing up and I don’t remember ever hearing about it, or perhaps I did and let it roll over my head.[9] I did not know that in 1960, when I was twelve, the south coast was functioning on a system of apartheid (p.60) or that when I was thirty-four the Mayor of Nowra burned the Aboriginal flag calling it a ‘rag’ (p.71). How did I not know or put 2+2 together?

By the 1980’s I had moved and was slowly becoming aware that there was something not quite right in Australia; not that I could really pinpoint it at that stage.

I now have a greater understanding of, and this publication has specified and detailed, the persistence of the fight by Aboriginal Peoples for their land and other rights, the repeated ignorance of and pushbacks by Councils, other government bodies and business, and how long this fight has been going on. Also illuminating is the longterm collaboration and planning among different Aboriginal groups and organisations that this involved, the central position that Keven Cook and Tranby (as well as many others) played in coordinating, educating and actioning, as well as the role of the Labor party, Communist Party, Unions and independent religious in supporting.[10] These were not just isolated events. It is all beginning to make sense.

The final chapter in this volume includes the long fight against a proposed major development at Sandon Point in 2000; an area which is of great cultural and spiritual significance.

“But in the end came victory. In 2008, Wollongong City Council was sacked for corruption on other counts after an Independent Commission Against Corruption inquiry. The fire ignited with embers from the 1972 Canberra Tent Embassy is still burning at Sandon Point. Artists played and children sang at SPATE in May 2007 to celebrate the declaration of 14 hectares at Sandon Point as the 55th Aboriginal Place in NSW. Non-alcoholic refreshments were provided and singer Jimmy Little, whose father is from Illawarra, gave a heartfelt performance that left no eyes dry. Community leaders spoke. South Coast Aboriginal Advancement League founder, Elder Mary Davis, said, “We got what we wanted, though not all that we wanted, land we can call our own” (p. 96)

[1] https://maietime.blogspot.com/2021/08/elizabeth-pulley-sets-sail-and-other.html

[2] https://dictionaryofsydney.org/artefact/rev_john_mcgarvies_list_of_native_names_of_places_on_the_hawkesbury_1829

[3] A more recent development has been the production of audio history walks, which are also available on youtbe,’11 Stories from the river Dyarubbin’. https://www.oonaghsherrard.com/projects/11storiesfromtheriver/

[4] “The Aboriginal name for Sydney Cove as recorded in a number of First Fleet journals, maps and vocabularies, was Warrane, also spelt as War-ran, Warrang and Wee-rong” (https://www.sydneybarani.com.au/sites/sydney-cove-warrane/)

[5] There never was and never has been a Treaty or agreement made with the First Peoples of this country.

[6] Henry Reynolds also addresses this omission and bias during his schooling, including studying Australian history at University in his book, Why Weren’t we Told: A personal search for the truth about our history. Australia, Penguin, 1999.

[7] I grew up in the ‘Shire’: the Dharawal country between Botany Bay/Kamay and Port Hacking River/Deeban

[8] “By 1812 at least 10 vessels had carried away the trunks of more than 400 huge sacred cedar trees cut from Shoalhaven forests” p.8

[9] I have begun reading Henry Reynold’s, Why Weren’t we Told? which mirrors my journey over the last 25+ years. However there is also the niggling thought that perhaps we did hear fragments and thought that it was just the way it was, that it was isolated or that there must be something wrong with those involved and thought no further.

[10] For example, the Unions would refuse deliveries to businesses where apartheid and racism was practiced.

If we could just dance together we would be friends

Remembering Margaret Walker, OAM (1920 – 1996)

for International Womens’ Day

(All photos from Margaret’s book, ‘Opening the Door to Dance’)

This International Women’s Day it seems appropriate to honour one of my teachers, Margaret Walker. Margaret was ahead of her time. She had a vision for peace and spent her life and any money she made on connecting peoples from all cultural backgrounds through dance. For her dance was ‘the dance of the peoples’.

I must have first come into contact with her in the late 1960’s or early 1970’s. I can no longer remember how I heard of her. I do remember Saturday afternoon drives to the other side of Sydney to learn dances from many cultures, followed by improvisation with ‘Uncle Barry’ on the piano.

Even before moving to Sydney Margaret’s particular vision was strong. Although she had trained as a chemist it was not to last long. In Melbourne, after seven years of training in Classical Ballet, she realised that the specialised form was “not accessible to all”;[1] Instead she focussed on the Character dances that were part of ballet training and formed Unity Dance Group which took these dances to workplaces and factories as well as taught and established groups for other organisations.

In 1951 she was an Australian delegate to the World Festival of Youth and Students for Peace and later a delegate to the USSR, extending this opportunity to include several other European countries.[2] The contacts and links she made through the USSR and Europe opened up many opportunities for Ethnologists, Folk Dance specialists and companies to visit Australia in the following years. During her visits she also collected dances and resources from which she developed her programs.

On moving to Sydney in 1952 she wasted no time setting up the Association of Australian Dances with branches in each state, and spreading her love of cultural dance through her school, Roseville Dance Centre as well as through invitations that came her way, such as being invited to establish a Childrens’ Arts Club (dance, theatre, art, film) for the Waterside Workers’ Federation.

Her philosophy spread to her family which consisted of four children from four cultural backgrounds whom she had adopted. As I do not know how to find them to request permission I will not include any details here.

Dance Concert, of which I became a member, was established in 1967/68 and I can’t remember whether I was already doing classes with Margaret before then. Looking back at what she was able to accomplish, it was pretty amazing, especially on very limited funding. We had teachers from all over the world. I remember classes with Csaba Palfi from Budapest, workshops with the Moiseyev Dance Company (Russia) when they were on tour here, an Israeli dance specialist, traditional Philippine dance from Lucy Jumuwan and there must have been many others I no longer remember.

From one of Dance Concert’s newsletters[3]

“Dance Concert is building a unique repertoire of dances and ballets many arranged by choreographers of the world’s leading folk dance ensembles. These include:

Yuri Mironov – Osipov Ensemble

Witold Zapala – Polish Mazowse Ensemble

Igor Moiseyev – & teachers Nelli Samsonova & Anatole Fedorov

Libertad Fajardo – Filipino Bayaniban Company

Csaba Palfi – from Budapest”

Margaret would also co-work with dancers from local cultural groups and invite them to perform with Dance Concert and we’d perform in traditional costume anywhere we were asked. At the same time Margaret was running and teaching folk dance in schools and I taught with her and for her on many occasions. She developed a program for schools called ‘Folk Dance is Fun’.

Eventually Dance Concert began to receive funding from the Australia Council to support her work. That was when trouble began. As I understand it, because it was compulsory to have a company with a Board of Directors to receive funding, and the Board, who now owned the name ‘Dance Concert’, and Margaret were not agreeing, they dismissed her in 1977. I could not believe they would do that – take her life work and vision – so easily and supplant her with another.

At the end of that same year Margaret set up the ‘Margaret Walker Folk Dance Centre’ and continued teaching under her own name in schools and in the community, as well as organising performances for festivals and other events. During this period, although I had my own work, I was still in contact and teaching for her in schools, some of which was festival preparation for events like the Blacktown City Games which involved 500 children from fourteen local schools. As well we would meet up at events run by NSW branch of the Australian Association for Dance Education.

During this period Margaret had made contact with members in the Aboriginal community in Australia and I suspect was the first person to bring a Traditional Knowledge holder and dancer from the Northern Territory to Sydney to share his culture and dance in schools. The dances Magungun taught were performed by children as part of the program for the Blacktown City Games. It was a brilliant experience. She also at some stage worked with the Aboriginal Islander Dance Theatre in Sydney/Warrane.

In 1982 Margaret was invited to choreograph a folkloric sequence as part of the Commonwealth Games in Brisbane and later was officially recognised for her lifetime of work in the Queen’s Birthday Honours list with a Medal of the Order of Australia. She continued to work almost to the end of her life and in 1992 published ‘a method for teaching International folk dance’, Opening the Door to Dance.

On page viii she writes –

“Folk dance provides a bridge, an enjoyable introduction to other cultures and customs. It can become part of a thematic approach to studying other countries. Participants need to be made aware of the meaning or purpose of a dance and a teacher should try to teach it in a way that is respectful to that culture. An introduction to folk dance can open doors in a person’s life leading to appreciation and tolerance for the ways of others.”

In the copy I have Margaret has written,

Her legacy for me, I think, fostered a lifelong love of the broadness of dance and yet the uniqueness of each culture’s expression, and the thought that ‘if we could just dance together we would be friends.’ Perhaps many have had similar thoughts. I was also very fond of her and I hope she also considered we were friends.

[1] Walker, M. (in collaboration with Nicki Lo Bianco), Opening the Door to Dance, v.

[2] Some of the following information comes from Margaret’s entry in the National Library of Australia website.

[3] Dec. 16 – 69 to Mar 21 – 70. A few characters have disappeared due to the age of this document. Apologies for any misspelling.

The Ides of May*

Recently a member of one of the family networks I am part of posted an image of a plaque which marked the departure of the First Fleet from Portsmouth on 13^th May 1787.

The plaque’s heading states “THE BIRTH OF AUSTRALIA”, which of course is historically incorrect and I commented as such on the post. As the plaque had been unveiled by the Queen in 1987, it illustrated to me that the message that Australia was NOT ‘terra nullius’ had, at that stage, still not been recognized by the British establishment.

It reminded me of reading of a similar instance where one of my ancestors, Elizabeth Pulley, is described as one “who had helped found Australia” in the museum at Wymondham Bridewell.[1] Again this is misleading and historically incorrect.

What the plaque above does commemorate is my convict ancestors’ departure from Britain, an event which I do celebrate as, at least in Elizabeth’s case, she was not “hung by the neck till she be dead”.

Since writing my comments on the post I’ve reflected on timing; how the month of May has special relevance for me, not the least of which is that RECONCILIATION WEEK also occurs during this month, and how that has influenced the way I react to the ignorance of ‘official’ versions of what occurred in and around 1788 and since.

As with Australia Day, the month of May can be a conflicted time for some of us whose ancestors arrived on the First Fleet: one of wanting to honour and celebrate life events of those ancestors and at the same time one of wanting to remember and acknowledge the devastation and havoc it caused, and in some cases is still causing, for the First Nations peoples of this country and their descendants.[2] Some of these events include,

13^th May 1787 – the departure of the First Fleet from Portsmouth

19^th May 1788 (one year later) – my ancestors Anthony’s and Elizabeth’s marriage

April/May 1789 (one year later) – reports begin coming in of many local First Nation people dying of smallpox, which is thought to be brought in by the First Fleet. According to Governor Phillip “judging from the information of the native now living with us…one-half of those who inhabit this part of the country died” and those who left the area carried it further. [3]

Fast forward to 20^th century

27^th May 1967 – Referendum that saw more than 90 per cent of Australian voters chose ‘Yes’ to count Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples in the census and give the Australian Government the power to make laws for Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples. It is unimaginable to think that before this referendum Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples did not officially exist, let alone in many instances did their original names and Countries/Nations of origin, and that the rest of Australia had to agree to this to make it happen??? [4]

3 June 1992 – Mabo decision by the High Court which recognised that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples have rights to the land that existed before British arrival and still exist today; the date now marking the end of Reconciliation Week.

1993 – Inaugural Week of Prayer for Reconciliation involving Australia’s major faith communities.

27 May 1996 – Council for Aboriginal Reconciliation launched Australia’s first National Reconciliation Week to be held each year from 27 May to 3 June, recognised by the Parliament of Australia; the dates chosen to include the Referendum and Mabo decision.

26 May 1997 – Bringing them Home report of the separation of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander children from their families tabled in Federal Parliament; a practice that has not ceased.

26 May 1998 – National Sorry Day inaugurated to commemorate the anniversary of the Bringing them Home report and the grief and longterm effects forced separation has on their families and their descendants.

28 May 2000 – Reconciliation Walk across Sydney Harbour Bridge in support of meaningful reconciliation between Indigenous and non-Indigenous peoples in Australia.

26 May 2017 – Uluru Statement from the Heart released to the Australian people at Uluru, Central Australia after a two year consultation period with over 1,200 representatives of different Indigenous Nations around Australia. The document summary is an appeal from the hearts of First Nations people to the hearts of all Australians, requesting Voice, Treaty, and Truth(telling).[5]

The juxtaposition of our ancestors’ life events and the call for recognition and acknowledgement of important life events in the history of Aboriginal Australia, which is really the history of us all, has not been lost on me. So how to hold the two together? I think the answer is held in the Uluru Statement from the Heart. I think we need to take this document seriously, listen to what it is saying and requesting, and act on it. [6]

To begin with, our country needs to recognise the First Nations peoples of this country as First Nations in our Constitution. How could we not and why would the rest of us need to be asked? It is self-evident.

Then, the rest of us need to support the call for a constitutionally recognised Indigenous Voice on all matters relating to Indigenous communities. This is not going to affect the rest of us in any way, shape or form. The programs that have been directed from the top-down over the last 230+ years with an Eurocentric mindframe have not worked and seem to be continually making the situation worse. There are differences in cultural behaviour and understandings that keep being ignored.[7] Those who have developed and run successful programs in communities from and on the ground are telling authorities there are workable alternatives. It is time the rest of us listened, supported what is being developed and hand back control and responsibility. The rest of us do not know better. There are increasing numbers of First Nations descendants making successful inroads in so many areas. It is in good hands.

And we need to ensure that all schools and educational institutions teach the truth of Australia’s history. We also personally need to know the full history of the area in which we live, and learn the traditional names and stories if still known.[8] We need to respect that the names and stories predate the rest of our arrival by tens of thousands of years.

I believe that if the Australian people can do this as a start, the rest will follow.

One of the core requests of the Uluru Statement from the Heart is a call for Makarrata, a Yolungu word which encapsulates something like ‘two parties coming together after a struggle to heal the divisions of the past to make peace…acknowledging that something was done wrong and working on making it right‘ (my interpretation).

As Jolleen Hicks[9] writes in a recent post,

“Australia is on a Reconciliation journey. Reconciliation is an aspiration. For us to reach Reconciliation, individual Australians need to personally decide to join the journey. Making that decision involves a commitment to the two steps that precede us reaching Reconciliation, Truth, and Healing. We must understand what it is we are Reconciling. We are not Responsible for the broken relationship that needs to be reconciled. But we do have the Responsibility to recognise that broken relationship, understand it, and take the action required to reconcile it. We accept this responsibility because we know better than those responsible, it’s the right thing to do, and we want better for our kids. Yours and mine.”

How could we as a country and as individuals do otherwise?

*I am using ‘ides’ here metaphorically to designate days around which the rest of the month turns; a sense of the day(s) being ‘central’ or ‘key’…and I like how it sounds.

[1] Annegret Hall’s In For the Long Haul.

[2] I can’t begin to imagine how First Nations descendants feel about these events. Journalist and leader Stan Grant (Wiradjuri and Kamilaroi), often addresses these conflicts in his writing and orations.

[3] The Indigenous Australians called it ‘devil devil’. The question ‘where did it come from?’ remains unanswered. Smallpox has a 10-14 day incubation period so it is unlikely to have come directly from the fleet’s human cargo. Test tubes of scabs were apparently brought in for inoculation purposes and probably stored in the hospital laboratory, although there are questions about whether it would have remained active for the length of, and weather changes during, the journey. So either someone accidentally or purposefully let it loose or it came from somewhere unknown. I doubt, from reading his letters home in the Historical Records and other journals at that time, it would have been on Governor Phillip’s orders. However, he had enemies and those officers, let alone the rest of the rabble, were out to cause trouble and did target the First Peoples.

[4] In Chapter 2 of Everything You Need to Know About the Uluru Statement From the Heart, Megan Davis & George Williams discuss what the 1967 referendum did and did not achieve.

[5] This is simplified. If you wish to know more about this document and its history read Everything You Need to Know About the Uluru Statement from the Heart by Megan Davis and George Williams.

[6] As Professor Megan Davis said at the end of her Henry Parkes Oration in 2018, “it is an invitation to the Australian people. It’s an important statement that will kickstart a reform so that perhaps finally after decades and decades and decades my people, our people, will find their rightful place in our own country”. Or, as Pat Anderson is reported as saying in her 2021 Lowitja O’Donoghue Oration in Adelaide recently, it seeks to “change the narrative about who we are as a nation”.

[7] Victoria Grieves (Warraimaay), Aboriginal Spirituality: Aboriginal Philosophy, The Basis of Aboriginal Social and Emotional Wellbeing and Nola Turner-Jensen (Wiradjuri) on Cultural Mindsets.

[8] a number of local councils run special events led by elders and Indigenous representatives during Reconciliation Week. Reconciliation Australia and NSW lists numerous events during this time as well as during the rest of the year. For 2022 Reconciliation events visit, Reconciliation

[9] Jolleen Hicks is a “Cultural Education Provider – Indigenous Engagement, Director, Author, Advocate for Aboriginal People, Teacher, Mother, Living and Walking in Two Worlds, Ngarluma, Yindjibarndi, Australian”.

1791: Elizabeth Pulley and an uneven fourth year.

We left Elizabeth and Anthony last year at Parramatta with exciting news of the arrival of the Dutch snow, Waaksamheyd, with its cargo of flour, rice and salt.

Although the Waaksamheyd’s load of provisions was not quite what it should have been, it supplemented the colony’s better than expected yield of wheat and barley in January, and the colony was able to remain on full rations. Then in mid January Edward Dodd, the superintendent of convicts at Rose Hill, died. This was a bitter blow to Phillip who had considered Dodd to be ‘the only person in this settlement equal to that charge’ (i.e. directing the convict’s labour). According to Judge-Advocate Collins his funeral service was attended by all the free people and convicts at Rose Hill, which would probably have included Elizabeth, Anthony and Robert.

Drought, lack of provisions and Anthony ‘buys’ some shoes

The summer was severe. There had been no real rain since the previous June and by January the drought was causing difficulties. In February the temperature soared to over one hundred degrees farenheight (c. 38°C). There was a bat infestation at Sydney Cove/Warrane and at Rose Hill birds and bats were seen to drop out of trees, or in mid-flight, dying in the heat. The scrub fires lit by the local Dharug people made the heat oppressive. The smaller streams around Rose Hill and Sydney Cove/Warrane dried up, although the brook and spring at Rose Hill maintained enough water to supply the settlement there.

Once again the local Indigenous people were starving and began to attack settlers for food. The settlement retaliated and a local Indigenous man, who was well-known, was shot and later died.

The convicts were looking tired and half-starved. Their stealing of provisions and the ripening Indian corn and vegetables, especially at Rose Hill, became more frequent. By March when Anthony was charged with possession of stolen shoes, the severity of punishment had increased to iron collars of seven pounds, linked together with chains. Fortunately Anthony only received twenty-five lashes as he claimed to have bought the shoes from a friend and theft could not be proven.

April saw a return to reduced rations and Phillip was determined to encourage as many people as he could to become self-supporting in an attempt to ease the reliance on public stores. Already in March he had placed three more civilians on their own farms near Rose Hill, just north of the brook, and in April two ex-seamen were settled nearby.

Land grants begin in earnest

When the first ships of the Third Fleet appeared Phillip went out to Rose Hill in person to hurry the process along. As the Third Fleet convicts and soldiers of the NSW corps were being landed from their transports in Sydney Cove/Warrane, Phillip was granting tracks of land to convicts whose sentences had expired at Rose Hill, now renamed Parramatta[1]. He placed them in two areas west and north-east of the settlement, (re)named Prospect Hill and The Ponds. One lot of grants were given in June/July, and a second in August/September.

The Ponds/Dundas Valley

In a way the granting of land was also a delaying tactic as most of the ex-convicts, like the marines, seamen and officers, wanted to return to England. However England did not want the ex-convicts back and pressured Phillip to discourage them. Those who were now ‘free’ felt they were no longer compelled to work and were beginning to cause problems.

So Phillip gave the ex-convicts a choice, either continue to labour for the government for provisions as they had been doing, or become settlers. As settlers they were to work on their own land while receiving provisions and free medical assistance for the first twelve to eighteen months. If they still wanted to return to England after that time they would get no assistance from the government and would have to negotiate their return passage directly with the ships masters. [2] In addition, if they chose not to work on the land they had been given they would lose it.

Mary is born

John Summers, a friend and workmate of Anthony, was offered and accepted a grant of land at The Ponds. Anthony, whose sentence was not yet completed, continued to labour as a bricklayer at Parramatta where Elizabeth gave birth to their second child. Mary Rope was baptised at Parramatta on 31st July. It was also during this month that relations between the local Dharug and other clans and the settlers began to unravel again.

Indigenous-British relations

Interaction between the Aboriginal groups and the British had, by this time, settled down into a cycle of peaceful co-existence followed by individual and small group conflict. Most of the conflict was caused by the encroachment of settlers on Aboriginal land and food sources and by the convicts continually stealing their equipment. Indigenous retaliation would usually involve attacking lone convicts in the woods or taking settlement food and stores. They had also realised that by coming into the settlements and befriending those in authority it would lead to a sharing of food and provisions. So Aboriginal people became frequent visitors to the towns, treating them as an extension of their home, which, as there had been no Treaty or formal agreement between the two cultures, it was.

At Parramatta a trade of fish for bread and salted meat had been proceeding quite peacefully for some months. The trade was led by Ballederry, who was well-known and liked by the settlers. Ballederry sometimes stayed over with Governor Phillip and, along with Colbee, had accompanied some officers on an expedition northwest of Parramatta in April.[3] However during June some convicts destroyed Ballederry’s canoe. Although three of the culprits were caught and punished, Ballederry retaliated a few days later by spearing a convict which, of course, was his cultural norm. As this sort of payback was not acceptable to the English orders went out to arrest or kill him.[4]

Ballederry was now a wanted man and he went into hiding. The peaceful trade between the two cultures at Parramatta ceased. Every now and again during the rest of the year Ballederry would send word asking if the Governor was still angry with him. Then in December he became ill with fever. The surgeon examined him, Phillip invited him to go to the hospital for treatment, and their former friendship was resumed.[5]

In spite of singular incidents like these settler-Indigenous interaction seemed to continue as an uneasy truce. For example, at Sydney Cove/Warrane in August a large group of First Peoples called in and stayed overnight on the way to and from a ceremony at Botany Bay/Kamay. In the same month Bennelong’s wife arrived to birth her baby. Others would come in and stay overnight, or for food, or to visit the hospital for assistance. There are also records of some deciding to accompany their English friends to Norfolk Island during this period, and of English being lost in the woods and being escorted back by some of the local Indigenous people.

At Parramatta the unease was fuelled by the establishment of the satellite farms. In July a large group of the Aboriginal clans had appeared at Prospect Hill and after being fired on set fire to a hut. Phillip responded by sending a small troop of soldiers to guard this outlying post, and another to the Ponds. His original idea had been to establish equal blocks of crown land in between each settler, but now he could see it was a mistake. He began to offer the crown land to other convicts, and encouraged them to clear it as quickly as possible.

Perhaps Elizabeth and Anthony, whose term was near its end, were among those who profited by this decision for by the end of the year the family was settled at the Ponds. Yet Anthony was still not considered ‘free’ and probably continued to work as a bricklayer in town. If so in October he would have gathered with all the other convicts as part of the general muster to welcome Barrington, the new superintendent. He would also have been later visited by him at the brickworks. During leisure hours Anthony, as were others in a similar situation, was under instruction to cultivate his own land and by December they had one acre under cultivation, probably of maize or corn.

expeditions

Meanwhile the push to find alternative settlement sites continued, further motivated by the long drought, which meant that the identification of alternative fresh water sources was a priority[6] . Expeditions recommenced from Parramatta. One expedition revisited northwest, confirming that the Nepean and Hawkesbury/Dyarubbin was the one river and finally breaking through to the mountains in the west.

Another expedition moved south from Parramatta, and along the Georges River which was shared by many clans north, south, east and west along the river. Bays to the south of Sydney Cove/Warrane, in Dharawal-Dhurga country and which were (re)named Jervis Bay and Matilda Bay, were discovered by some of ships of the Third Fleet. These ships were whalers and as soon as their human cargo had landed they made good use of the bays as anchorage points from which to track and fish the whales. Their hunts were not as successful as they had hoped, but Phillip saw the potential for a future industry and wrote to England with the news.

abscondments continue

At the end of March a group of convicts, some of whose terms had expired, had absconded at night in a boat well-stocked with food, provisions and tools. It was led by the Governor’s fisherman and had been planned over many months.[7] The Governor immediately placed size limits on the boats being built and carefully monitored all night work.

Then in November a group of twenty male Irish convicts and one female, who had arrived on the Third Fleet, absconded from Parramatta into the woods heading for China. Gradually they were found lost and starving and were brought back, only to abscond again almost immediately. Phillip once again gathered all the new arrivals together and warned them they would be shot in future and would suffer instant death for robbing the stores, as he had heard of their plot to do so. Yet by December thirty-eight convict men were missing in the woods and plundering the stores at night. There was even a report of two men assaulting another man on the newly completed Parramatta Road. And the stealing of boats continued spasmodically.

departure of Third Fleet ships

During the last months of the year the Third Fleet began to depart with those ex-convicts, officers and marines who had elected to return to England. The departees included Major Ross, and Lt. Clark who had both returned from their duty in Norfolk Island, and Captain Watkins Tench, whose journal is an invaluable resource. All had arrived with the First Fleet and, like many others who still had to remain, were suffering the effects of the long absence from home and the deprivations experienced since arrival.

Not many were sorry to see Ross go. As Judge-Advocate Collins wrote, ‘It is the Prayer of every one in this Colony, that he may not stay two Days in it, when he returns’ (ie. from Norfolk). Nevertheless Ross still managed to engage in a duel during the week before departure. Lt. Clark, Elizabeth’s ‘foe’ on the Friendship, had acquired a lover, Mary Branham, with whom he had a daughter, Ann Alicia, while at Norfolk Island. Mary, Ann and another of Mary’s children arrived in Sydney with him and apparently accompanied him back to England.[8]

life goes on

The Third Fleet’s departure left a gap. The Fleet’s arrival from July to October had offered many diversions. People living at Sydney Cove/Warrane would go to the shore to greet the ships and to inquire after friends and news from home. Others would sort through the luxury goods the ship masters had brought with them for sale at the usual inflated prices. A few from the Aboriginal community would wander down to watch.

Newcomers, such as Mr. and Mrs McArthur, Superintendent Barrington, Rev. James Bain, chaplain of the NSW corps, as well as officer’s wives, would be entertained at dinners, picnics and excursions along the river, or at Parramatta. By mid December all the ships had gone, including the Supply from the First Fleet and, as Judge-Advocate Collins wrote, everything settled ‘back to a dull uniformity’.

Rations had been reduced again in December making it a lean Christmas. So a gift of a pound of flour was given to each woman, which Elizabeth would no doubt have appreciated. The season was also celebrated with a divine service at Parramatta, probably where a temporary shelter had been built for that purpose, and the robbing of the marine store of twenty-two gallons of spirits at night[9] .

Then on the last day of the year convicts gathered in front of Government House Parramatta to protest the reduction in rationing and the daily, rather than weekly, distribution of food.[10] The protest was led by the newly arrived convicts from Irish gaols.[11] As Judge-Advocate Collins wrote, there was a ‘spirit of resistance and villainy lately imported by the newcomers’.

[1] Phillip had renamed Rose Hill, Parramatta as part of the Kings Birthday celebrations on 4th June. Parramatta was the name the local Aboriginal people gave to the area, thought to mean ‘the place where eels lie down’ or ‘the head of the river’.

[2] England did finally support Phillip’s requests and allowed ex-convicts to return.

[3] The expedition was an unsuccessful attempt to find the junction of the Hawkesbury and Nepean rivers (originally called Dyarubbin). As on previous occasions, Aboriginal People were not comfortable outside their own locale and could not wait to return home. Although they openly greeted the Bu-ru-be-ton-gal people, who lived around the Hawkesbury/Dyarubbin river and seemed friendly, both groups spoke different dialects and were nervous of each other. Privately Ballederry described them as ‘enemies’ and in one instance burnt one of their shelters.

[4] The unevenness of British attitudes towards and punishment of other British and First Peoples regarding such infringements has to be noted. The men who retaliated and killed the local Indigenous man do not seem to have been hunted down.

[5] In spite of Phillip’s friendship with and respect for, many of the First Peoples, he was under pressure from England to procure ‘specimens’. In a letter which accompanied the many specimens of flora and fauna he sent home in December he wrote of the difficulty of procuring Aboriginal heads as ‘the Natives burn their dead: no European has yet seen the ceremony’. He was hopeful, however, that Bennilong, who Phillip described as very intelligent, would accompany him in person when he eventually returned home. The practice of collecting human trophies was rife at the time. From a 21^st century perspective it is, or should be, repugnant. According Aboriginal remains repatriation the practice continued to the late 1940’s with 1990 marking the “year of the first ever repatriation from the UK”.

[6] The tank stream in Sydney Cove/Warrane had gradually silted and the water level was very low. During 1791 effort was put into clearing, widening and deepening it. Palings on the bank were erected to keep out the stock and in November stonemasons were ordered to cut tanks out of the rock for reservoirs.

[7] Some were actually seen by one of the officers one year later at the Cape of Good Hope from where they returned to England to face the courts for their abscondment.

[8] So much for the ‘damned whores’ and desperately missing his beloved wife, Alicia, and son. He did, interestingly, name the baby Ann Alicia after his wife.

[9] Spirits, such as Rum and Porter, were in limited supply for everyone and had always caused problems among the convicts and marines. A fresh supply had arrived with the Third Fleet but Phillip had stopped it being landed until guards could be put into place to secure it once on shore.

[10] Convicts had been bartering their weekly ration for spirits. By mid-week they were starving, and began to steal. So Phillip decided to try and reduce, or control, the problem with daily hand-outs instead.

[11] As usual the newly arrived convicts did not think they should have to work for food; preferring to abscond and/or steal.

Australia Day, Welcome to Country, Loving Country and sand talk.

Australia Day is looming on the horizon again and a feeling of unease is rising, including in someone like me whose ancestors arrived on the First Fleet and who has researched and is very aware of how that arrival impacted on the First Peoples. [1] However I am not the only one who experiences this inner conflict and sense of disconnect.

I recently read Australia Day written by Stan Grant, a well-known journalist who has worked overseas and is of Wiradjuri and Kamilaroi descent. Yet Stan Grant also has Irish heritage. In Australia Day he explores and analyses this mix and conflict, “Those of us who identify as Indigenous, as First Peoples, we too grapple with our whiteness”, and what it means in relation to the dating of Australia’s major national celebration. He explores and debates identity politics and mixed ancestry while being confronted by real problems and results of systemic racism and the white gaze. It is a complex and interesting journey, part of which led him, almost by accident in 2015 after writing an article for The Guardian in response to the incessant booing of Adam Goodes over a number of years as well as other instances, to become a public spokesperson for Indigenous rights – The Racism Debate .

I have also recently read Welcome to Country by Marcia Langton, who is a highly respected first Associate Provost at the University of Melbourne with a lifetime of Indigenous rights activism and is a respected advocate and voice for Indigenous Australia. The subtitle reads “An introduction to our First peoples for young Australians” yet I found it suitable for anyone. It gives an extensive background to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander history and culture, the history of colonial impact and growing activism, and some of the current leaders and icons. It is a great introduction to the usually hidden parts of Australian history and should be in every school and community library.

Then there is Loving Country by Bruce Pascoe and Vicky Shukuroglou. If ever you want to fall in love with Australia, this is the book to read. It takes you on a tour around Australia from an Indigenous perspective, resting at places of significance along the way to listen to stories about the land, its First peoples, wildlife and importance. The stories are beautifully told. Suggestions are also made of Indigenous tours and guides if there is a desire to know more. Of course it is impossible to avoid having to confront stories of the destruction which past and current practices are having on these sacred sites, the land itself and the sea, so there is also at times a deep sense of loss. As Bruce says in relation to landuse since colonization, “Australians have been spending agricultural capital built by Aboriginal land care and that capital is all but gone, as if a wayward child had surrendered the family fortune to gambling and decadence”. His challenge is that “all this beauty and soul satisfaction has a price” and there is a tax to be paid for our lifestyle. “It seems most Australians realise that the time has come to care for the planet and its history”.

I read Tyson Yunkaporta’s sand talk: How Indigenous Thanking Can Save the World in 2020 when a friend loaned me a copy. This year I bought my own copy as I realised it was important to reference the book here, and I needed to reread to gain a deeper understanding of the content. Although I am not yet finished the second read, here is a brief introduction.

Through yarns with ‘diverse peoples’ and his own thoughts and understanding Tyson presents Indigenous patterns of thinking, being and doing as a lens to view and critique contemporary systems. As he is quick to point out ‘Indigenous’ is used as a catch-all phrase, as it is in the English language, for many diverse peoples all of whom may have fragments and related parts of a larger meta-story, which starts with parts of the interrelated songlines in Australia. He begins with the challenge of the crisis of our age which is a result of humans thinking that they know better than nature. The challenge and invitation of the book is for ‘us-two’ to walk and yarn with him and others to gain ‘understandings needed in the co-creation of sustainable systems’ (p.18) and, as I understand it, see what might emerge.

[1] I have explored the unease around and background to Australia Day in more detail in Australia Day: conflicts and alternatives.

Remembering Rusty’s time as WWII prisoner-of-war

I have previously uploaded two stories of my father’s time as a POW (links below).

To mark 75 years since liberation this account fills in the gaps. It is a mix of sections from his writing – life story, emails to the Goldcoaster network and my additions; the latter two are in italics. As I have said elsewhere, I have not edited my father’s vocabulary or spelling to make it more ‘politically correct’. I have added sub-headings.

I don’t think he held any grudges about that time. Growing up in Indonesia he had developed a more Eastern view of the circularity and ups and downs of life. In my view it is always an horrendous time for all involved in war and conquest and I hope we are not forced to go that way again.

This is Peck’s story:

Beginnings in Holland

In 1917 my parents got married and in September 1918 on the 24^th I was born. My father (Marius) was employed by a chemical manufacturing company in Naarden (mother, Antoinette, ‘Etty’) was a nurse. This town is to the east of Amsterdam.

The first war (WWI) had ended and there was great demand for many products. A number of large corporations had sugar producing estates in Indonesia on the island of Java. There was a great demand for employees and the wages were very good and on top of that the staff received large bonuses at the end of the years. Due to the war there was a large demand for many goods one of them was sugar.

The move to Java

My Father applied for a job as chemist and was taken on by one of these corporations, he had to sign a contract for six years and at the end of that period he was given a 6 months holiday, the company paid all travel expenses. These sugar estates were always in the country and usually 40 or more KM from any town. Once a month we use to go to town to purchase supplies for a month. It was always a great occasion and we children use to get a special treat of lemonade and Ice cream.

(They arrive in Java in 1920. Frank is 1½ years old. While Marius works for the Dutch Indes sugar industry Etty uses her nursing and midwifery training to run a polyclinic on the Estate for the local Indonesians, which is always busy. The Rups children hang around and watch, so learning about the treatments. The children are schooled in Indonesia.)

Conscription into the army

In 1933 I passed the intermediate and it was decided that that was enough. Every boy of 18 had to serve in the army (Royal Indonesian-Netherland army) for a period of six or twelve months, depending on which branch they were put in.

I asked for the transport section and after a few months I asked to be transferred to the mechanic section. That was granted and that was a much better job. We had no parade and were not disturbed in our work. The regulars showed us how thing were done and it was very useful when I came to Australia. I was able to do most repairs myself.

I worked with Kolf & Co, Library and Stationers (for whom Frank is branch manager at Solo and Djocja) until the war started in 1942. I was called up and detailed to a gun unit to do the maintenance of all the vehicles. One day we were told to move and face the enemy, we drove all night and finished up in a queue on the way to an airport. But the Japanese had occupied the airport and used it to send bombers to bomb us. All day long they came over and dropped the bombs and I did nothing else but run from one ditch to another and I got out of it ‘Scott free’. We were ordered to retreat to our base in a small town near Bandung.

Capture by the Japanese

The next day the end of this war was announced and the following day Japanese troops entered our barracks and took all the weapons away. We were now prisoners of war. One day we were all called on parade and the Japanese brought two of our men into the camp. They had been beaten and now in front of us they were shot, all because they had gone home to their wives that night. After a few months a call was made for four drivers. I came forward and was selected. The Japanese gave us each a truck and we had to drive to the West Coast of Java. The next day we had to drive to the beach and there was a large supply of all sorts of things the Japanese had unloaded from their supply ships that came with their landing force.

Frank’s father (Marius) and brother (Hans) before the occupation, in front of the house his mother (Etty) was taken from by the Japanese. All members of the family were interred.

The Japanese loaded the trucks and we had to drive to a township where everything was stored. We lived with the Japanese soldiers and ate from their kitchen. We were treated as equals. It was here that the survivors of the Perth and Houston were kept in a camp. We were not allowed to talk to them. They looked a sorry lot. After the job of moving all this supply we drove back to the camp we had come from. We were used to do all sorts of different jobs, such as cleaning buildings and parks etc.

Work as an orderly in the camp hospital

Then one day the Japanese asked for a number of people to work in the hospital. I volunteered and in the afternoon we marched out of our camp. When we entered the hospital there stood a group of English soldiers on parade. As we marched in they marched out under command of Dr. Dunlop (Weary Dunlop). The Dutch doctor in charge of the hospital told us that all the hospital was divided in a Dutch section with the Dutch personnel and an English section with English personnel. The English medical staff was taken to the prison camp and we had to replace them. (‘The Japanese decided that the hospital should be one unit, they asked how many English staff there was and told our camp commander that they wanted so many people to go to the hospital to work’. Goldcoasters email 28/12/1999). Well there were a few orderlies and doctors among us but the rest had no knowledge of medicine (and also did not know much English, you can imagine that first night).

We had presumed that we were wanted for maintenance duties. Anyway we were all detailed to various wards. That night there had to be staff on the wards. No one wanted to take the contagious disease ward. A regular army orderly (from the medical corps) said to me, ‘come on we take that ward, I shall teach you the ropes’. So I started my career as an orderly, this followed me right through to the end of the prison period of three and a half years.

Because of the haste we did not know where we were to stay. That first night I spend sleeping on a blanket next to a patient who was in a terrible state. He had been wounded and had lost so much weight that he was skin and bone. He had the worst bedsores I ever saw. He needed a lot of attention because he was crying all the time and had dysentery as well (…he needed constant cleaning…but he survived that part, we got him better). I had some idea of nursing because I had picked the knowledge up when my mother was looking after the sick people on the estates.

The next morning the doctors came to their appointed wards and started to straighten things out. We were given lectures in physiology, pathology and how to nurse but in my case I had learned all I needed to know from my mother.

This all took place in Cimahi a town near Bandung. The hospital is still there and used.

For eight months I worked in that hospital. The Japanese never came near us because of the T.B, dysentery and diphtheria we were nursing. In those early days it was still easy to buy various foods such as meat, vegetables, etc and I use to cook up something nice for Xmas. [1]

(‘The best chance of survival was to have a friendship bond of two or three people, who help one another under all circumstances. I was lucky to be in that situation. I visited my friend in England a number of times over the years. He rose to a high position in one of the Banks. The last time we met, we knew that that was the last time, when we said good bye he cried. This was after we had made our separate journeys for some forty years. Time does not mean anything in these matters’)

On the move

After the hospital we were sent back to the prison camp. Here they made us in three groups to be sent somewhere. After a month we were told to pack up and come on parade for our departure. All the possessions we had accumulated were too much to carry and we had to make a selection that could fit in a kitbag and a shoulderbag. We were put on a train with all the windows covered. We arrived in Jakarta and were marched to a prison camp.

We arrived at Jakarta (Batavia) and were billeted in the Bicycle camp, which was a notorious camp, because the Camp Commander had strange ideas, such as calling on parade at 2 o’clock in the morning and if you were not fast enough you got a belting. He did many mean things. Luckily we were there for only a short time. (Goldcoasters email 3^rd January 2000)

After a month we were rounded up and taken to the port (Tanjong Priok). When we were all counted and divided it was 1 o’clock midday and the sun was shining all day. There we had to get on board of a ship by climbing up a ladder. Arriving on the deck we were made to go down on a ladder into the hold of the ship. (At the bottom of the ladder were a number of Japanese soldiers with bamboo sticks beating everyone, making them crawl under.

What the Japs had done was divided the space from the floor to the deck in three sections. We had to occupy a three storied area…plus all the hundreds and hundreds of cockroaches)…and we had to crawl into the darkness underneath the platform. The later arrivals had to get on the platform. To make us hurry up we were beaten with sticks. It was nearly unbearable as the sun heated the steel of the ship and it was like being in an oven. I stripped to my underpants and the sweat was running of my body. Some men fainted. At last the ship started to move and we left the harbour. I crawled in some distance and took up a position against a post.

After an hour or so we were told that if we wanted a drink, there was a large tub with hot tea in a corner (on deck) and we were allowed to come up and have a drink. There was a long tea queue. I went back inside got my pannikin (dish) and eating utensils and went back. Once I was on deck I found myself a comfortable place where I intended to stay and sleep. If we were torpedoed I could at least swim and perhaps save myself. Many of the poor fellows were so disheartened that they just remained downstairs, got seasick.

Arrival in Singapore

It took four days to arrive in Singapore in the driving rain. I climbed back into the hold to get my pack and went back on deck. As soon as we had docked we were taken off the ship and loaded onto lorries. They took us to Changie. We were taken to do various jobs in the garden they had started. The produce was for the Japanese troops not for us.

Dysentery and a return to nursing

After a few months in Changie camp we were taken back to the docks and put on a ship. There must have been a hitch because we did not move. Dysentery started to break out and one day all the people that had dysentery were taken off the ship. I was amongst them and we were returned to Changie camp. I was sent to the dysentery ward of the hospital. After a few days I recovered, but now there were no Dutch units left and I didn’t belong anywhere.

Because I had assisted with nursing, I was kept in the ward as an assistant. This was a bad time. The bacillary dysentery we could mostly cure but there were no medicines for the amoebic dysentery sufferers. As this disease is a slow and chronic complaint we had to give the patients enemas every day of Acraflavin, which is a disinfectant, in the hope that we could delay the progress of the disease.

Then one day troops started to return from the Burma railway. They were a sorry lot and many died. We had to work day and night to try to get them better.

Changi and Kranji

Then the big move came. The Japanese had used a lot of the prisoners to clear an area of land that was to become an airstrip and needed the buildings of our camps for their own troops. We were moved to Changie Jail. The civilians had been interned there, but we were a much larger group and many huts were built outside the jail.

Part of the hospital was moved to Kranji a camp not far from the naval base in the North of the island. I was not a patient and had to come to the jail. After a few months I was sick again and I was sent to Kranji. Here I met up again with the orderlies from the hospital.

Finding ‘mates’ and food

With two of them we formed a group and that became important because now the worst time started. Very little food and people started to get berry berry and other diseases due to lack of vitamins. Prior to this time I had made friends with an Australian soldier at the time we were in the jail. Arthur Gibbs, or Gibby….The group we formed consisted out of Jim an orderly, Harry a chemist and myself. I was employed in the garden.

There was a canteen with very meagre supply, cigars, palm oil, blachan (a shrimp paste). Our rations consisted out of rice, a thin bitter soup and one or two dovers (rissoles) rice mixed with dried fish and fried in the oil. Breakfast was porridge of rice mixed with crushed corn. It was cooked the night before and in the morning it was heated mixed with a bit more water. We would get a scoop of it plus one spoonful of sugar.

Because I worked outside I was able to steal some food. A sweet potato, some spinach leaves etc. I knew many weeds that were edible. And other things like the pips of the Jack Fruit. The Jap guard often had a piece of jack fruit and threw the seeds away, roasted they are good eating. The problem was to get wood for a fire. The camp was under Gum trees and there were some branches but the bulk of wood came from the cemetery.

Cemetery duty

There were so many people dying there was always a call for volunteers to go with the stretcher to the cemetery. This was up a hill and there were many Rubber trees. As that area was out of bounds there was always plenty of dead wood to be gathered. So I regularly volunteered to attend a funeral. James and Harry had their own sources to get something extra and we divided this.

Food savvy

In the period of the dry fish supply I discovered that the English cooks filleted the fish and threw away the bones. So I asked if I could have the bones and I minced them to a paste which was something extra to eat with the rice. The other item that helped was the Blachang, the smelly paste. I fried it in oil also as an extra taste and it must have had some nutrition in it.

At last we heard that the Japanese had given in and the war was over. It did not take long and our troops started to arrive. Amongst them were welfare people who did their best to bring us comfort. They had vans and handed out tea and biscuits.[2]

The Aftermath

The authorities did not want me to leave Singapore for my recuperation after the three and a half-year in the prison camp because I was a medical nurse and there was a shortage of nursing staff. I had my heart set to be sent to Australia and not Holland. Then at some time beginning March 1946 an announcement was made that after the end of March no more Dutch troops were to go to Australia. I moved heaven and earth to be sure that I would not miss out.

The Event appeared in two newspaper articles. The article above has been saved in the family archives with no reference. The other can be found at,

http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/98375220?searchTerm=rups&searchLimits=dateFrom=1947-04-13|||dateTo=1947-04-13 (Sunday Mail, Brisbane)

age 82 years, the time of writing.

Frank died in 2008, at the age of 90 years. In his self-written obituary he wrote,

‘I have always been thankful to Australia and the people have always treated me well.’

c. A. Maie 2020

[1] Rusty Rups’ Xmas in the camps.

[2] Rusty Rups’ liberation from Kranji

Embedded Racism: we’ve been here before

In 1997 I wrote an article titled, The Showboat Carousel: the Whitewash of the Blacks which was published in National Outlook, April 1998. It was really an extended book review of Canadian writer, poet and novelist M. NourbeSe Philip’s, Showing Grit, written in 1993, with reference to what was occurring in Australia at the time. Although twenty three years later some comments may be dated and in other places I may express myself differently or choose different vocabulary, I thought I would republish the original article here, as it and indeed M. NourbSe Philip’s writing, maintains relevance.

In the second half of 1996 I had the fortune to be introduced to M. Nourbese Philip, Canadian writer, lawyer and scholar after reading her book Showing Grit. [1]

Showing Grit was written during the furore surrounding the 1993 opening of Show Boat in Toronto. It was Nourbese’s hope at the time of writing that her book would assist “those in the front line of the effort to stop this production”, for when Show Boat came to Toronto it caused an outcry in the African-Canadian community.

To understand why is to be African-Canadian, or African-American, or any other non-white person who is living under white domination at the end of the twentieth century.

In Showing Grit, Nourbese explores the issues, conditions and attitudes that still support racism today, and how the emergence of musicals such as Miss Saigon and the re-emergence of Show Boat is a concrete and very public indication that racist and sexist attitudes still exist, are supported by large numbers of people, and are funded and promoted by large corporations for whom profit is the only morality.

The issues involved are complicated and reflect very much on us as a society. Nourbese explores these in some detail and although hers is a Canadian analysis of an American musical, the issues are still relevant to Australians.

The central objection to Show Boat is that it is a racist musical based on a racist book (Show Boat by Edna Ferber). Its portrayal of the Blacks is historically inaccurate, stereotyped and outdated. The underlying themes in the story are:

intermarriage is dangerous and only ends in disaster
to be Black or thought of as Black is shameful
to be Black is to be uneducated, ones only value being to serve and support . the white boss – “happy cotton-picking darkies” – providing local colour and entertainment
Blacks accept their condition with resignation and Christian forgiveness
the best thing that could happen is for the Blacks to disappear so that the whites can get on with their lives.

The dislike of the ‘Nigger’ shines through.

As a white Australian, does that make you feel uncomfortable, angry…or more secure, relieved, secretly pleased?

As an indigenous Australian, haven’t you heard this all before…too many times?

So why again…and why now?

Nourbese’s research into the history of the book, films and musical productions of Show Boat reveal that its revival came during periods of great financial unease, or when African-Americans had taken significant steps forward in their struggle for equality. So she surmises that at these times the white (moneyed and middle class) are needing reassurance because there may be a hidden fear that if things continue the way they are going then “we may end up like ‘them’”(poor, underprivileged) or even worse, like them as people – perish the thought! How better to silence the thought and instead demean the ‘other’…put them in their place…disempower them.

Financial security is not a given any more in Australian society. The number of job losses over the last two years is an indication that all is not well and that the politicians promises are coming to nothing. As well, since the 1960’s indigenous Australians have made some progress in their fight for equality and respect. At the moment in the lead-up to the Sydney Olympics Aboriginal artists are receiving a lot of support and publicity. On the world stage it is a politically correct thing to do. Yet behind the scenes the Prime Minister seems to be sidestepping the more controversial issues and backstepping on others, especially when it interferes with corporate agendas, so that marginal groups (indigenous Australians as well as women, the elderly, gays and lesbians) are losing ground.

Is this why the Show Boat carousel has arrived in Sydney? If not, why is a musical which supports the stereotypical Black man and woman of the 1880/90’s white mind reproduced in these enlightened times? Moreover why is an outdated, revamped American musical still being presented rather than one of our own?

A full-page advertisement in the Sydney Morning Herald on Saturday 23rd August calls it ‘The Great American Musical’ and the ‘Winner of 5 Tony Awards in 1995’. So? The producers in Canada claimed it had historical significance as the highlight of the work of Jerome Kern and Oscar Hammerstein II. It’s historical significance is that, apart from a few well known songs, it was Kern’s only highlight and one in which he borrowed (stole and profited from) the traditional music of the African American. No compensation or royalties were or have ever been offered.

It was also lyricist Oscar Hammerstein II’s first critical success in which (in the words of his son) he “expressed things that nobody had expressed before”…well, no white person. The ‘nobody’ was the Black. Once more the Black has disappeared.

The producers claim it is historically accurate. Maybe, but from whose perspective? Better that the biased, racist versions of history remain in libraries, museums and video stores for the purpose of study and discussion than be presented as a contemporary version of white ‘truth’.

The producers also insisted that the musical version shows racial harmony and understanding. They presented a television show narrated by a Black actor on the making of the musical to prove how sensitive the show is. They prepared a schoolboard approved anti-racist educational package for schools and offered subsidised performances for students. If they were telling the truth why the overkill? Especially as the extensive media coverage (including advertising disguised as news items, special articles and television programs) excluded all opposing views. Apart from being another example of the increasing intrusion of the corporate sector into school life and ‘news’ (which is also happening in this country) and the fact that The Toronto Star newspaper was one of the sponsors for the show, who really stood to gain from all this effort? Who could afford the tickets?

Certainly not the African-Canadian community who were aghast that ‘once more with feeling’ they were being portrayed singing soul songs and happy with their lot – their ‘lot’ being inevitable, just like “ol’ man river rollin’ along” – less than the reality.

The real story was, and is, one of continued rebellion by the African-Americans from the beginning of slavery to the present. It is also the story of holocaust – their genocide and separation from family – as well as their persistence and ‘showing grit’. But this story is silent and silenced. Where is the musical with the real story? Where is the money to fund such a production?

In that case where are the musicals with the real story of indigenous Australians? There was Bran’ Nue Day. It trod carefully and the anger was well hidden under smiling faces, yet it was there.

Our Prime Minister is encouraging us all to leave the past behind and move forward. But to move forward without turning, acknowledging and apologising for past mistakes is to ignore the wrongs and maintain the silence, in the hope ‘it’ will disappear (who will disappear?).

In 1992 Pope John Paul II was the first person in an official capacity to ask for forgiveness for the sins done to the Africans in the name of slavery. It made 3-4 lines in a side-bar in the Toronto Star. Galileo’s pardon by the Pope at the same time warranted an entire article. If this is how we gauge what is important you can see where our loyalties lie. So, our Prime Minister is not alone in refusing to acknowledge that Christian white oppressors are accountable and need to face their victims and apologise. But it does not excuse him.

Another Prime Minister Gough Whitlam wanted to maintain the rage over the injustices done to him. How can we do less for those for whom injustice is still a daily experience?

Prior to the October 17, 1993 opening of Show Boat in Canada the producers had made six million dollars in advanced ticket sales and their corporation’s share prices rose on the stock exchange.

This is the reality. Money makes money. You give the people what they want and they’ll pay. Who is guilty here? Who is being served? Who are the servers?

As Nourbese says, the “blond head has greedily sucked African blood from the wound it created but has taken no responsibility and made no reparation, yet it is still continuing…..We may not be able to stop them, but we shall not bless them….It is my hope others will stand with us”.

What Show Boat is presenting may be about 1880’s America but its presence in Australia at this time is saying more. It is saying that Australian whites still want to keep those of colour in their place, that they are still not ready for change, for true equality and sharing of resources. The wealthy white corporate mind mirrors itself in the rest of those who will attend this production. Where do you stand?

Show Boat is due to open early next year. The ShowBoat carousel has just begun – prepare for the publicity whitewash.

c. 1997

[1] M. Nourbese Philip, Showing Grit. Toronto: Poui Publications, 1993

1790 – Elizabeth Pulley’s third year and on the move

We left Elizabeth and Anthony at the end of 1789 when everyone in the new colony was feeling abandoned and desperately in need of supplies from Britain.

Growing despair.

The New Year did not fulfil their wishes. It was now two years since the First Fleet entered Port Jackson and almost three years since it left the homeland. In that time not a word had reached them directly from England. The feeling of isolation experienced when the transports had returned to England the previous year deepened.

The supplies which had been brought out with the transports were coming to an end. Everyone was feeling abandoned and dejected with a growing concern about the lack of food. As Capt. Tench expressed it, ‘Famine besides was approaching with gigantic strides’. Phillip did not expect the provisions to last beyond May. Marines had no shoes, the convicts clothing was in tatters, and the settlement was beginning to look like a gypsy camp.

The only ships left which could be used to procure anything were the Sirius and the Supply. The previous year the Sirius had travelled to the Cape of Good Hope to obtain provisions. During the journey it suffered storm damage and had been out of commission for eight months. Now repaired, plans were instigated to send it to China to obtain more. It never made it.

Lightening the load.

To ease the stress on the settlement at Sydney Cove/Warrane, and as prospects seemed more promising at Norfolk, Phillip had gradually over the years sent more and more convicts and marines to the island. In March Lt. Ross, some officers, a company of marines, and about two hundred convicts, including children and their belongings, were placed on board the Sirius and Supply to be relocated there.

All on shore watched anxiously as the ships sailed out of the harbour and disappeared from view. The passengers on the Sirius were to be landed at Norfolk Island on the ship’s way to China, and the Supply was to return to the Cove/Warrane. Landing at Norfolk had never been easy, and this time the Sirius was caught in the currents and hit a reef. Although no lives were lost the ship was wrecked. Phillip was devastated.

Last chance.

With a heavy heart Phillip ordered the last remaining vessel, the Supply, to be prepared to sail for Batavia the following month. It was to procure flour and, while there, hire another vessel to bring back more supplies. After the Supply’s departure the settlement was placed on its severest rationing yet and work was reduced so that time could be spent at home gardening; not that many took advantage of it.

Tightening the belt

All private provisions and remaining animals were taken for public use and carefully guarded. The killing of animals was forbidden, not that this prevented people, that is, convicts, marines, and seamen, stealing or killing them. Punishment increased in severity. Phillip turned over his private supply of flour for public use and placed himself on the same rations as everyone else.

Fishing was a priority and, as the seines now needed repair, Traditional Aboriginal-style techniques and equipment were employed instead. Attempts were made to hunt the local kangaroos but their wariness made them a difficult target and the enterprise was soon abandoned.

Boilers were erected on the east side of the Cove/Warrane to extract salt from sea water. Salt was essential for preserving meat. A tallow-hut was built, probably for making candles and soap. As original structures were now starting to decay, the building and repair, especially of secure storehouses, continued slowly.

The silence in the settlement weighed heavily as so many living quarters were now empty and little work was being undertaken by marines or convicts. Rumours of England’s abandonment of the colony were rife. People were seen crying. Officers wrote of how Captain Cook had led them astray and that this country was an alien land which did not support life.[1] Phillip had already had enough and sent a letter home requesting temporary leave.

Elizabeth and Anthony

So far I have found no mention of Elizabeth, Anthony and son Robert during this time. Like everyone else they would have been affected by the lack of food, resulting in little energy. Anthony’s work at the brickworks would have been reduced. It may be possible that Elizabeth’s sentence was now over, although Anthony probably still had some time to serve.[2]

So everyone struggled through. In May, although Phillip had tried to conceal how badly the settlement was doing, it must have been obvious and Bà-n-eelon made his escape. Undeterred, Phillip ordered the ground to be prepared ready for planting of wheat and barley in both the Cove/Warrane and at Rose Hill.

Desperate for help from Britain

Since the arrival of the First Fleet a party of marines had been sent to Botany Bay/Kamay every week just in case an English vessel had arrived there by mistake, but none had. In January of 1789 a party of seamen had been sent to the bluff on South Head/Barraory/Tarraibe and a flag-pole erected so that a flag could be raised as a signal at the first sighting of ships. During the following months, as the waiting continued, the temporary shelters that had been erected there were replaced by permanent huts.[3]

Then the miracle everyone had been hoping for occurred. On 3rd June, while the celebrations for the King’s birthday were being prepared, a flag was seen raised at South Head/Barraory/Tarraibe. Excitement and confusion reigned. People ran about aimlessly, some women with children in their arms. Others hugged each other. Everyone held their breath. Phillip headed off down the harbour to check and returned with the news that a transport from England, the Lady Juliana, had finally arrived.

Disappointing news

However all was not as expected. The transport carried over two hundred women convicts, some too old to work, and no supplies apart from two years provisions for the women on board. It also carried news of other transport ships and their convict loads following closely behind. The most devastating news was that the fleet’s supply ship, the Guardian, with its load of supervisors, skilled workers, and provisions, had been shipwrecked on an iceberg at the Cape of Good Hope. Those items which had been salvaged were transferred to the other ships in the fleet.

The Lady Juliana also brought news from home of the King’s illness, the French Revolution, and letters from family and friends. A few days later work was suspended and a public Thanksgiving Service held to celebrate the King’s recovery. The whole settlement attended the service, with Rev. Johnson presiding. Afterwards the Officers dined and were entertained at Government House.

…better news

Throughout the month four more transports sailed into the harbour discharging their cargoes of male and female convicts, the first detachments of the soldiers who were to replace the marines, and, on the Justinian, some extra provisions and stores. As soon as the stores were landed the full allowance of rationing was restored, afternoon work reinstituted, and the daily routine once more signalled by the drum. Bread was baked, liquor distributed, every convict received a pair of shoes, and women were employed sewing new slops (clothes) for the men.

…and disorder

Stealing had not eased with the arrival of the Second Fleet and the reinstatement of full rations. As soon as the first ships were anchored, people were caught sneaking on board to take anything they could. In the hospitals and sick tents the sick would steal from each other.

The hospital was full. A large number of the Second Fleet’s convicts had not been well cared for on their journey, having been shackled like slaves. Many convicts had died. The bodies of those who died on arrival were thrown overboard into the harbour or buried on the north shore/Cammerra. Even more died during the following months. Burials were almost a daily occurrence, although weddings kept a similar pace. According to one of the recently arrived female convicts, ‘The Governor was very angry, and scolded the captains a great deal’, saying ‘it was murdering’.

By the end of June three hundred and forty nine new arrivals had been admitted to the hospital. By mid-July this increased to four hundred and eighty eight. The hospital overflowed. A portable hospital and extra ‘sick tents’ were erected. The stores, also, had been damaged. One thousand and twenty eight pounds of rice and one thousand five hundred pounds of flour had to be condemned.

The masters of the ships, hoping to take advantage of the great need in the settlement, immediately set up their own stores to sell clothing, accessories, and other goods at highly inflated prices. Needless to say they did not sell much. They had misjudged the amount of money available in the colony and soon admitted defeat, packing up their goods and returning to England with them.

The settlement was now bursting with activity and people. It was a case of everyone for themselves. As housing was limited, long-term residents were shuffled to make way for the new. One newcomer, Capt. Hill, could not believe the state of the colony, the lack of buildings and resources, and the rationing with which he was made to comply. His letter home laid the blame squarely on Phillip’s ignorance and lack of ability. I guess he felt he could have made a better job of it.

Phillip at wit’s end

Phillip, on his part, was responding yet again to news of England’s plan to continue sending two fleets of convicts per year from its overcrowded English and Irish gaols. All he could do was stress how difficult it was to motivate long-term convicts to do anything, and how little support the civil and military officers were willing to give. He viewed them all as ‘dead weight’, and continued to beg England to send supervisors, artisans, agricultural experts and free settlers instead. It was a long and frustrating battle.

By the end of August all the transports were on their journey back to England, taking with them those marines and officers who wanted to return, as well as letters and other gifts to family members and the Home Office. That was not all. Some had an extra cargo of stowaways, often with full knowledge of the ships masters. The absconders who were caught during the pre-sailing raids were returned to shore and punished.

The colony expands west, attended by the NSW corps

By the end of the year most of the new arrivals had been bundled off to Norfolk Island and Rose Hill where the focus of agricultural effort was now concentrated. A few remained at the Cove/Warrane to assist with public building and maintenance, or to be maintained as servants. Both groups were also joined by a detachment from the NSW corps, which was to work alongside the Marines. Our story now moves with them.

Rose Hill/Parramatta

After the arrival of the Second Fleet, the establishment of the satellite town at Rose Hill took on greater urgency. The town was laid out, boundaries tagged, and the sites for an overnight house for the Governor, huts for the convicts, and barracks for the soldiers, marked. As bricks and tiles were made in Sydney/Cadi, a road was built from the brick kilns to the Cove/Warrane for their transportation. Bricks were then ferried to Rose Hill by boat. Another road was laid out at Rose Hill from the landing place to allow their transport west to the hill. Bricklayers and labourers were gradually relocated there to build the much-needed storehouses and huts and clear tracks of land for cultivation.

Dharug and Guringai unrest

Conflict between the new arrivals and local Indigenous Australians continued. My reading of the journal records is that the settlers robbed the local Indigenous People frequently and that most of the Indigenous attacks were on straying cattle or for food. A number of the Dharug people expressed their anger at the invasion at Rose Hill and that they were being forced further and further out as their land, food and water resources were increasingly being taken over.

However the problems were more widespread than that. The Indigenous People had kept well away from both settlements during this time. They were probably terrified of getting sick or being captured as well as aghast at seeing yet another load of intruders being deposited onto their land. Also, during winter, the fish had disappeared and Aboriginal families and groups had moved to where food was more plentiful. A few had been sighted in August by Officers on an excursion southwest of Rose Hill.

Early in September a party on the way to Broken Bay[4] had come across Baneelon and Colby in a group at Manly[5] who expressed their fear of the Governor’s game keeper, McEntire. Later that day at Broken Bay a young aboriginal man speared Phillip in the shoulder, misinterpreting the Governor’s gesture of peace for one of aggression. He was a local Guringai man, so probably unaware of the peaceful relations that Phillip and the Officers were used to having with those they knew. The wound was not fatal and Phillip soon recovered. However, the garrison at Rose Hill was strengthened.

Elizabeth, Anthony and Robert on the move

It was likely that at some stage during the second half of the year that Elizabeth, Anthony and Robert moved to Rose Hill, being transported there by boat along Parramatta River. Whether they were part of the group of bricklayers and labourers who moved there in July, or whether they were sent there once clay had been discovered and brick-making commenced in September, is a matter of conjecture. All I am aware of is that in March of the following year Anthony was charged at Rose Hill with being in possession of a pair of stolen shoes. It was also during this period that Elizabeth became pregnant with their second child.

Although located at Rose Hill, Elizabeth and Anthony would have known of Phillip’s accident and of other events occurring in Sydney. The movement of people and goods between Rose Hill and the Cove was a daily occurrence and news of the comings, goings, and shenanigans at both settlements would have been the topic of many conversations.

Runaways and executions

Runaways had been a constant feature of both settlements since arrival. Some runaways returned starving, others were found dead in the bush, and still others were never heard of again.

Three events particularly would have been of great interest to Elizabeth and Anthony. The first was the surrender early in the year of ‘Black Caesar’, a man of African heritage who had been working as a servant in England and had been charged with stealing. He was transported to Australia on the Alexander, the same ship as Anthony and became a repeated absconder.[6] On his surrender Caesar spoke of seeing cattle[7] in the care of an Aboriginal group.

The second was the abscondment of five male convicts in a stolen punt from Rose Hill to Sydney Cove/Warrane in September. On reaching the Cove/Warrane the escapees stole another boat and headed out to sea, never to be seen again. The escape had been carefully planned, with the men taking provisions, bedding, clothes and utensils with them. They had collected their provisions over a number of weeks, so everyone in the settlement would have known about it.

Another major event was the execution of two men found guilty of armed robbery at Rose Hill in October.

Bà-n-eelon and Còl-bee re-appear

In October an interesting reversal took place at Sydney Cove/Warrane. One day Bà-n-eelon and Còl-bee caused quite a stir by returning to the settlement with a few friends. They proceeded to show their friends around and introduce them to those they knew. Gradually the visits of the local Aboriginal People increased in frequency until they occurred on a daily basis. While in the settlement they would be fed and sometimes slept overnight. As the frequency increased Aboriginal women began to leave their children in the settlement to be fed and cared for while they went on ‘walkabout’. Food was scarce, but no longer scarce in town

Bà-n-eelon’s visits became so frequent that Phillip built a hut on the point on the East side of the Cove/Warrane for him and his family, which probably included his second wife Barangaroo[8]. Sometimes the sounds of Baneelon’s group singing and dancing around the fire at night could be heard in the town. By December Bà-n-eelon, Còl-bee and a group of friends would remain in the settlement three or four days at a time. During one of these visits Abaroo, who had been living with the clergyman’s family, went to join them.[9] Nanbarree, who had been living with Surgeon White, also spent a night away but returned the next day.

In December some of the local Aboriginal people joined Phillip on one of his regular visits to Rose Hill. Bà-n-eelon, Barangaroo and Còl-bee also visited at various times. However none stayed long, indicating they wanted to return to Sydney/Cadi as soon as possible. Barangaroo would not even stay overnight. None seemed comfortable in the area[10].

McEntire

In any case the visits at both settlements came to an abrupt end later in the month when McEntire, Phillip’s game-keeper, was fatally speared while in Botany Bay/Kamay. In a way it was not unexpected. The Aboriginal People did not like him and, in fact, feared him. Even Còl-bee had expressed his fears to Phillip when they had met in September.

The story was that McEntire had been staying in an overnight hut on the north shore of Botany Bay/Kamay when some of the local Dharug or Gadigal approached him. Thinking they were friends, he walked towards them unarmed. One of the group speared him. McEntire made it back to the settlement hospital where Còl-bee and others came in expressing their concern. They gave the name of the perpetrator as Pemulwuy, from Bid-ee-gal group living in Botany Bay/Kamay, and promised to deal with him.[11]

Nevertheless Phillip was so outraged at what seemed an unprovoked attack that he reluctantly, and not without opposition from some Officers, sent out two successive parties to capture and bring back, or kill, as an example, six of the clan. Both raids were unsuccessful. The Dharug in the area had long gone and the parties ended up getting lost, probably due to misdirection by their Indigenous guides. Còl-bee’s and Bà-n-eelon’s, promises of ‘taking care of Pemulwuy’ were also never carried out. In fact, at one stage they were seen going in a totally different direction.

McEntire finally died in January 1991. It was suspected that the attack on him had not been unprovoked: if not this time, then on previous occasions. The feeling in the settlement was that he did not treat the First Nations people kindly and they definitely did not trust him. Judge-Advocate Collins wrote, ‘this man had been suspected of having wantonly killed or wounded several of the natives in the course of his excursions after game’.

Settling in

By the end of 1990 Rose Hill was becoming a thriving community. Land had been cleared, crops planted and the brick kiln erected. Well over five hundred convicts had moved there. Convict huts had been built along two cross streets, each with its own garden; thirty two men only group houses along the main street, nine houses for single women along the cross street, and ‘several small huts where convict families of good character are allowed to reside’ – most likely where Elizabeth, Anthony and Robert lived.[12]

The Governor’s hut was finished, and the barracks begun. The new storehouse was nearly complete. There was a church camp, a blacksmith’s, a hospital, a bakery, brick-kilns where Anthony probably worked, the superintendent’s house, and cattle-yards, and on the other side of the river, the Government farm, barn and granary.

Ending the year on a good note.

The end of 1990 also saw the arrival of the Dutch snow, Waaksamheyd, hired by the Supply in Batavia to bring out flour, rice and salt. And, at Rose Hill, a Christmas divine service would have been conducted by Rev. Johnson, with all in attendance.[13]

[1] Initially British agricultural and husbandry practices did not naturally thrive in the Australian environment and the colonial leaders were constantly on the lookout for more appropriate sites. It is interesting to be updating this in 2020 when Australia is in the middle of an horrendous drought and fire season, as well as diminishing water supplies. The whole issue of appropriate land and water use practices is being seriously debated.

[2] There were a number of convicts who had now completed their sentences, were officially ‘free’, and under no obligation to work. Some of them wanted to return to England. Phillip did not know what to do with them and had written to Home Office requesting instructions.

[3] According to https://dictionaryofsydney.org/entry/south_head ‘Aboriginal names for the area were recorded as Woo-la-ra or Tarralbe for Outer South Head, Burra-wa-ra or Barraory for Inner South Head, and Mit-ta-la (or Metallar) for Green Point (Laings Point). According to the same source Nanbarry, made an unsubstantiated claim in 1790 that, ‘as it is recorded in the journals, this was one place the aborigines did not go near. To them the area was considered to be a ‘place of death’’. The journals record that the area was understood to be a burial or cremation ground, and a place of ‘engagements’ (i.e. a place where internal and intertribal conflicts were resolved through ‘payback’ combat). Arabanoo was taken there in February for a visit where he demonstrated Indigenous burial practices and how to light a fire with two sticks.

[4] Probably the land of the Wannungine/Wannerawa band of the Guringai nation

[5] Land of Cannalgal or Kayimai people of the Guringai nation. Some Indigenous Australian’s interpretation of this event is that the spearing of Phillip could have been intentional but was not aimed at killing him. Rather, because the spear used was not a ‘killing spear’ with barbs, and the position of entry was not in an area of the body which would have been fatal, it could have been a warning that they were unhappy with the way that they had been treated and with the actions of McEntire, and a sign of acceptance/respect in accordance with their tradition of ‘payback’ .

[6] ‘Black Caesar’s’ story appears to be one of working hard and reliably for periods, followed by stealing, being charged and escaping into the bush.

[7] Cattle had disappeared from the Governor’s farm in 1788.

[8] The area’s Indigenous name was Tu-boe-gule, now named Bennelong Point where the Opera House is located. B’à-n-eelon’s first wife had died. Barangaroo was from the Cammeraygal band from the north side of the harbour and must have been imposing as this was remarked upon by the officers. She was also a fishing woman and in control of the food supply, making and using lines and hooks to fish from a canoe, with a small fire inside for cooking the catch. She did not like the new arrivals at all, refusing to mix with, or dress like, them. Barangaroo Reserve is named after her and, in addition to everyday public access, serves as a focal site for Indigenous ceremonial events. When she died in 1791 Barangaroo was buried in Phillip’s garden as were her daughter, Dilboong, who died in infancy and Arabanoo.

[9] Abaroo, also known as Boorong, became Baneelon’s third wife after the death of Barangaroo.

[10] My understanding is that band/clan/language differences needed to be respected and ‘just arriving’ without proper ceremony was unacceptable and could be dangerous.

[11] Pemulwuy was later to lead the guerrilla-style resistance against the outward thrust of English settlement in areas around the Georges River, the Nepean/Dyarubbin, and beyond.

[12] I thought I read, possibly in an Historical Journal, that the married quarters were near the brick kilns but as I am unable to find the reference this cannot be confirmed.

[13] Rev. Johnson had been complaining of the lack of attendance during the year until Phillip announced that those who did not attend in future would experience a reduction in rations.

‘Rusty’ Rups’ liberation from Kranji, September 1945

During World War II my father, who had been conscripted into the Dutch Army, was captured by the Japanese and incarcerated in Changi and Kranji prisoner-of-war camps for three years. His parents and siblings were also imprisoned in different camps. Dad wrote a number of short accounts of this time and emailed them to friends and contacts.[1] I have previously uploaded another of these accounts as Rusty Rups’ Xmas in the camps.

The Japanese officially signed the terms for reoccupation on 4^th September 1945, and the surrender was complete on 12^th September. The filmed church service at Kranji celebrating liberation is dated 7^th September 1945. This is my father’s story.[2]

“I decided to…tell you a funny story about the camps. The Kranji camp I was in when we were liberated was situated in an old rubber plantation. There were a number of bamboo huts with thatched leaves (as) roofs; home to centipedes, (and) when they had a fight up there one would fall down and give you a hell of a fright. The camps (were) surrounded with a double barbed wire fence” and “the Jap soldiers used to patrol in between those fences.

At a distance from the huts were deep boreholes used as latrines. Some had seats but others had slats to squat on. It was a complete open space, no divisions, so there (were) always happy conversations going on. From that came the word borehole(‘s double-) meaning: ‘rumour’. Someone from the camp would come up to you and say, ‘did you hear the borehole, they are going to move the camp?’”

“Also there were some smart guys who would trade with the Jap guard (and sell) over the fence.”

“In the centre of the camp was an open area where four blocks of concrete were laid well apart, and on each…were six showers. All (were) in the open, of course. Why would you worry to put up partitions?”

“The advancing troops arrived a few days after the Japs surrendered, (and) in that convoy were also amenity people: a concert party and women to look after ‘these poor buggers’. They were so eager to be kind to us that they arrived at the gate with their vans and walked straight into the camp… There was pandemonium.

The war was over (and) there were no working parties, so everyone went (their) own way. (They were) coming out of the barracks with a towel over (their) shoulder…a piece of soap in (their) hand, and starting to have a good shower. When all (the) women came in there was no escape. The barracks were a distance away and one had to rinse the soap off before one could put a towel around one’s body.

Well, the next day the day’s orders stated the times one was allowed to shower and use the toilet. In haste, bamboo partitions were obtained and a few days later all was civilized again.”

“Love to you all, Frank Rups (in the camps my name was Rusty; Rusty Rups)”

in Singapore on release from POW

in Singapore upon release from the camps

[1] This account was emailed 28^th March, 2000.

[2] My edits for continuity are in brackets.

A longer story of Frank’s more than three years in POW can be found at Remembering Rusty’s time as WWII prisoner-of-war

c. A. Maie, 2019

CONTENTS