Talking Sideways: Stories and Conversations from Finniss Springs - Softcover

Dodd, Reg; McKinnon, Malcolm

Softcover

ISBN 10: 0702260401 ISBN 13: 9780702260407

Publisher: University of Queensland Press, 2019

Synopsis

Reg Dodd grew up at Finniss Springs, on striking desert country bordering South Australia’s Lake Eyre. For the Arabunna and for many other Aboriginal people, Finniss Springs has been a homeland and a refuge. It has also been a cattle station, an Aboriginal mission, a battlefield, a place of learning, and a living museum. With his long-time friend and filmmaker Malcolm McKinnon, Dodd reflects on his upbringing in a cross-cultural environment that defied social conventions of the time. They also write candidly about the tensions surrounding power, authority, and Indigenous knowledge that have defined the recent decades of this resource-rich area. Talking Sideways is part history, part memoir, and part cultural road-map. Together, Dodd and McKinnon reveal the unique history of this extraordinary place and share their concerns and their hopes for its future.

About this title

About the Author

Reg Dodd, an Arabunna elder, is a natural storyteller. Malcolm McKinnon is an artist, curator, writer, and filmmaker. 

Excerpt. © Reprinted by permission. All rights reserved.

Talking Sideways

Stories and Conversations from Finniss Springs

By Reg Dodd

University of Queensland Press

Copyright © 2019 Reg Dodd and Malcolm McKinnon
All rights reserved.

ISBN: 978-0-7022-6040-7

Contents

Map, 
Prologue On Talking Sideways, 
Chapter 1 An Arabunna Family Story, 
Chapter 2 The Love of a Difficult Place, 
Chapter 3 Growing Up Two Ways, 
Chapter 4 Time Travelling, 
Chapter 5 The Mission, the Saddle and the Bottle, 
Chapter 6 Trouble, 
Chapter 7 The Blow-up and the Aftermath, 
Chapter 8 Mixed Blessings, 
Chapter 9 Staying Close to the Ground, 
Chapter 10 Unlikely Alliances, 
Chapter 11 Imagining the Future, 
Chapter 12 Creation Stories, Personal Stories, 
Chapter 13 Sharing a Song, 
Authors' Notes, 
Timeline, 
Endnotes, 
Select Bibliography, 
Acknowledgements, 

CHAPTER 1

An Arabunna Family Story

Reg Dodd

A blackfella in a tartan cap

We were always classified as Aboriginal people, even if we had just a speckled inkspot of Aboriginal blood. It didn't matter if we had dark skin, like some of my family, or if we looked more like a whitefella, like my older brother Norm, for example. That's just how it was in those days when I grew up. We grew up knowing we were blackfellas, and we didn't have any choice about that.

I always say I have a foot in each camp. I'm an Arabunna person and I also have Scottish blood, and I'm proud of both, because what happened here at Finniss Springs with my Scottish grandfather and my Arabunna granny was pretty unique. The outcomes of that relationship were beneficial not just to my immediate family but also to many other Arabunna and to a lot of other Aboriginal people too. I would say that pretty much all of the surviving Arabunna people today can be very thankful for what Grandfather and Granny did here, because most of their parents or grandparents come from here too. They were either born here or else they came and lived here, so in some way or other they all have a strong connection to this place. From the time that my grandparents came here in 1918, and then continuing right through the 1930s, '40s and '50s, many Aboriginal people came here. And not just Arabunna people, but many other Aboriginal people too – Dieri, Kokatha, Antakarinja, Adynyamathanha or Arrernte. Even people from down in the Riverland or over west on the Nullarbor – there are people from those areas who have a link to Finniss Springs as well.

I do think about my Scottish ancestry – maybe I'd like to go over there to visit one day. We've actually met relatives from Scotland who have come out here to discover something about their Australian family, and they've invited us to come over. We've had relatives out here wanting to take a picture of my grandfather's grave. One lady came here, and I could see she was the spitting image of our cousin, Auntie Flora's daughter Joyce. I showed her photo to my sister-in-law Blanche, and she said: 'That looks exactly like Joycie!' We've had a few Warren and Hogarth family people come here from different places, all related to the Scottish side of our family. It'd be interesting to visit Scotland, but whether I'll ever actually make that trip I'm not sure. The area they're talking about is Morayshire, up in the north. That'd be a big trip for an old blackfella like me!

A peculiar creation story

For me, Finniss Springs is home. I was born here, I've lived in this country all my life and I've never left here. I have a traditional connection to Arabunna country through my mother, but Finniss Springs was also a pastoral property that was set up by my grandfather, Francis Dunbar Warren, who was of Scottish descent. My grandfather bought this property when he sold his share of Anna Creek Station, up the track a bit north-west of here, right in the heart of Arabunna country. He'd taken up with my grandmother, Nora Beralda, who was a full-blood Arabunna woman. They had a family and then they came down here in 1918, first to the original Finniss homestead out beside the springs at Hermit Hill; later, in 1922 they moved south-west a little bit, to this place they called New Well, which is where the station property is now. So I have a traditional connection as an Arabunna descendant and also a direct connection with the European history of this area through my immediate family.

Grandfather sold his share of Anna Creek to his uncle because he wanted to set up a home for his own family, and he wanted his children to be able to have an education. They first approached the government about setting up a school here at Finniss but, in the end, it was the missionaries who were willing to come out here to educate the kids. In 1939, the year before I was born, they set up the first school out here in an old army tent. So this is where we grew up and where we were educated.

My great-grandfather John Warren was a pastoral commissioner back in the 1860s. He came up here on one of his trips, along with his nephew, who was a surveyor. When they got up to Strangways Springs, about a hundred kilometres up the track from here, they found some fine pastoral land. They took up 500 square miles of property at Strangways and set up their head station. John Warren went back to Adelaide and eventually became a state parliamentarian, leaving my grandfather and his uncle, Thomas Hogarth, to run the property. Later on they shifted the head station to Anna Creek, but it was at Strangways that they first established a working relationship with Arabunna people. It was also at Strangways where my grandfather formed a relationship with my grandmother; they went on to have seven children.

Traditionally, Strangways Springs was one of the main Arabunna campsites because there was plenty of water and shelter there. West of Strangways there were open tablelands. Strangways had special significance for Arabunna people, just like Hermit Hill here, and Curdimurka a little way up the track – these were some of our main camping sites, and families were always living there. A lot of Arabunna people were born at these places, and there are important ceremonial sites within these areas. These places are interconnected through mythological stories. Also, at certain times of the year, depending on the rain and the seasons, there'd be particular plants that could be harvested in these areas, like aritji (mulga beans), yalka (bush onions) and thungka (bush tomatoes). So the old people would come down for food and for ceremony. People were always moving through these areas, passing on knowledge and skills across different generations.

The relationship between my grandfather's family and the Arabunna people at Strangways and Anna Creek was very unusual, especially in that my grandfather married an Arabunna woman and then stayed with her and his family in this area for the rest of his life. He's buried down here at Finniss Springs – he didn't want to be buried down south with the rest of his European family. Most other white men never acknowledged their Aboriginal families or made that commitment to stay here.

Right from the early days, Arabunna people were providing support for my grandfather and great-grandfather's pastoral enterprise. They worked as sheepherders looking after 50,000 sheep in virgin pastoral country, north of where the dog fence is now. In return for this work, Grandfather's family offered some protection and security for those Arabunna people.

One important thing is that my grandfather and his family accepted advice from the old Arabunna people about special sites that need to be looked after and protected. At Hermit Hill, for instance, there are important ceremonial sites that form a part of Aboriginal stories stretching right across the country, from this area here all the way through to country north of Brisbane. When the Overland Telegraph came through here in the 1870s, followed by the railway in the 1880s, the construction gangs set up a work camp only a few hundred metres from an important men's site near Hermit Hill. That would have had an enormous impact because it would have stopped Arabunna people from performing important ceremonies there. In normal circumstances there would have been a big fight between the construction workers and the Arabunna people, but this didn't happen. My understanding is that Grandfather's family advised the Arabunna men and the construction workers on how to deal with this conflict, because the construction camp was relocated and the ceremonies were also moved to a more private area, all without any fighting taking place. This was a very unusual situation in those days, where someone had the respect and authority to be able to mediate a solution like this.

I know that my great-grandfather and then my grandfather after him were great advocates for the interests of Aboriginal people. For example, my great-grandfather spoke in parliament against the proposed removal of Aboriginal people from their lands in the top end, which was then part of the South Australian colony. In 1911 he also spoke against the removal of Aboriginal children from their families. I think that it was because of this kind of support that my grandfather was able to marry my grandmother, and to have the marriage accepted by the senior Arabunna people at the time.

Unusual relations

Francis Dunbar Warren was born here in Australia. His family had come out to South Australia from Scotland, and Francis was the seventh son, born at the family property called Springfield, at Mount Crawford, near Adelaide.

My grandmother Nora Beralda was a proper tribal woman, and traditionally she had a high status among the Arabunna people through her connection to certain important stories. Beralda means 'the moon', and she was known as 'little moon' – parala kupa in Arabunna language – and my great-grandmother was parala parnda, meaning 'big moon'. Their stories also relate to the fire – thirka in Arabunna language. When we were born we had to be placed on the thirka – that warm hearth beside the fire – because we were the thirka family mob. Granny was of the highest status within all of that, and I think she was one of the people who really held Arabunna society together.

I know plenty of other white people who had kids with Aboriginal women but they kept it as quiet as possible. They wouldn't openly support that family because they would have been branded as 'nigger-lovers'. But my grandfather and great-grandfather, because of their unusual status, were able to do that. They had credentials and confidence, so that Grandfather was able to go out and do what he wanted to do. It would take a very brave man with a strong sense of right and wrong to be able to do that. There were many kids all around the country with Aboriginal mothers and white fathers, but their fathers never acknowledged those kids or took any responsibility for them. And so my grandfather was unusually humane, in that he supported his family all along and he was determined always to stay with his Arabunna family.

In my lifetime, I can see a parallel to when old Dick Nunn came up to manage Anna Creek Station in the 1950s. He took up with an Aboriginal woman; he used to travel around with her in his car. Many of the neighbouring pastoralists were scandalised, but they never had the courage to challenge him about his relationship. The other thing about Dick Nunn was that rather than have his Aboriginal stockmen having a feed down at the creek, he had them eating in the kitchen, at the same table as the non-Aboriginal stockmen. They were rare people who were brave enough to do that. Those kinds of people weren't dependent on other pastoralists, and they were prepared to live with the stigma of being seen as 'nigger-lovers'. But at the same time, I know that there were some people who had to sell up their property and shift somewhere else because they were constantly criticised and attacked about their friendly relationships with Aboriginal people.

Grandfather's relationship with the Arabunna people was a two-way thing. He helped the Arabunna people understand the white man's ways, and told them what they had to do to get along. At the same time, he took advice from senior Arabunna people about the things that he needed to understand in order to live and work in Arabunna country. Here at Finniss Springs he had a special room in his house with nothing except a spear and a boomerang up on the wall. That room was for him to meet with the Aboriginal elders who were travelling through here, because we're located on significant trade routes running west to east and north to south. He would meet with those people and provide food for them on their way through. Even today, some of those old Oak Valley people from over in the western part of South Australia remember how Grandfather used to do that. So there would have been discussions between Grandfather and those senior Aboriginal men that I'm sure wouldn't have happened unless he'd had a certain status.

In his journals Grandfather sometimes wrote in Arabunna language, especially if he was referring to birds and animals or to certain places. I remember him writing about how, up at Anna Creek, all the crabholes were full after the rains and there were a lot of kudnatyilti running around – that was those water-hens. So he used Arabunna language in that way.

When Grandfather came down from Anna Creek, his intention wasn't actually to settle here at Finniss. He was going to buy Beltana Station, down south of here. But when they got here, old Granny said: 'I'm not going any further – this is my country here,' so Grandfather bought this place. Otherwise he would have been going on to Beltana by himself.

My mum, Amy, was born on the western side of Mount Dutton, out at the camp at Warndilanha. This was also a place where they used to put the horses from Anna Creek during drought times. She told me that she was carrying her younger brother, my Uncle Angus, on her back when they came down here from Anna Creek. There were some old fellas that journeyed down from Anna Creek too, just to help all the Aboriginal people get settled here. Old Tommy O'Donoghue was a senior man who came down to help people settle in. Tommy was the grandfather of Paddy Jones, who I'll tell you about later. Tommy had traditional knowledge of this country, so he would have told people about the places where they could do particular things and the ceremonial sites they had to avoid. There would have been smoking ceremonies to cleanse the bad spirits from particular areas so that people could live here.

Those old Arabunna blokes and some other Aboriginal people who were working for Grandfather, they were originally the sheep-herders up at Strangways and at Anna Creek. As I mentioned, at one time they had about 50,000 sheep they had to look after. In the daytime they'd tail them out and then at night-time they'd put them in a yard to keep them safe from the dingoes. They'd also dig big trenches and cut down lots of verbine bush and clover and bury it so as to create a kind of silo. Then they could dig it out at some later time to feed the sheep when they had them yarded up, or in dry times when there wasn't enough fresh feed on the ground. I also know that those old fellas would sometimes cut down branches from big rivergum trees and burn them and then cover them over with dirt, and then they'd come back and collect the charcoal. The charcoal would eventually be burned in the blacksmith's workshop on the station, when they were making or sharpening their tools. This was still happening in my day, actually, because I can remember how they'd sharpen knives on the sandstone and us kids would have to turn the handle for hours, until it felt like your arm was going to drop off.

I know too that Grandfather had input into changing traditional Arabunna laws and practices, because they were too harsh within the new situation that people were living in after the pastoralists arrived.

The first incident I always talk about was when old Yumpy Jack, one of the sheep-herders, was a young fella, only a teenager. This happened out at Kardipirla Warru Warrapukanha, which is also called Lake Cadibarrawirracanna, between William Creek and Coober Pedy. Yumpy was tailing the sheep and they wandered off over the sand dunes. Unbeknown to him, on the opposite side of the sand dune was a campsite where men were doing their ceremonial business. Yumpy wandered over the dune and stumbled straight into the men's camp. The traditional punishment for that should have been death. But the old men had so much respect for old Grandfather that some of them went back to Anna Creek Station to talk with him.

They said: 'We've got this young fella. He came in to our ceremonial camp. Now we have to kill him.'

But then Grandfather said: 'Now, hang on a minute – let's have a talk about this. He's only a young fella, and he's one of my best workers. Why don't you take him and put him through the business and make him become one of you mob?'

So that's what happened – they didn't kill that young fella. But there would have been a lot of negotiation, and probably Grandfather would have to have given those old men a sheep or killed a bullock for them or something for when they were having their ceremony. Anyhow, not only did they put old Yumpy through the business, but ultimately he became our Arabunna custodian. And then, eventually, he taught old Tommy O'Donoghue and Jack Parrot, and then Tom Brady and then Paddy Jones. He passed on all the traditional Arabunna knowledge and lore that he knew, and then that knowledge and lore was eventually handed down to us. So Grandfather saved that old fellow's life and then that bloke went on to become our custodian, the fellow who looked after all the 'crown jewels', so to speak.

(Continues...)

Excerpted from Talking Sideways by Reg Dodd. Copyright © 2019 Reg Dodd and Malcolm McKinnon. Excerpted by permission of University of Queensland Press.
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Edition details

• Publisher: University of Queensland Press
• Publication date: 2019
• Language: English
• ISBN 10: 0702260401
• ISBN 13: 9780702260407
• Binding: Paperback
• Number of pages: 304