AustLit
For as long as I can remember, I was with members of my extended family more than my immediate family.
My Aunty, a Gnarla Kaarla Boodja/Wardandi/Yindjibarndi woman, who was Mum’s oldest sister, first took me away from Mum and Dad when I was seven weeks old! With her we would go travelling anywhere on adventures. By we I mean the three dogs and up to seven kids (the neighbourhood kids would jump in as soon as they saw the car doors of the big old valiant open!). We’d be gone from our little town of Pithara where we lived to Geraldton or even Narembeen! I lost my Aunty in 1988, but I didn’t lose the love of adventure she gave me.
My Pop was a Wardandi/Yindjibarndi man and I was the only granddaughter he allowed to go out shooting, or goat hunting or to cut up a ‘roo leg with him. Pop was a staunch man with old set ways. He loved his beer, playing his guitar and singing, working hard and telling yarns.
Pop was brought up in Wadjari country. He learned from the old people their ways, stories, and culture but only shared his knowledge with men. Pop spoke Wadjari words. I thought he was a mad scientist once when I saw jars and jars of yellow stuff in his caravan but he was only making emu oil for his sore knees.
One day, when I was in kindy, Pop came to town. He came to school to pick me up but the teachers sent a little dark skinned girl to him!!! I was in tears because he was MY Pop! I was a little fair girl ... Pop laughed it off and pointed at me. “No, no, she’s MY granddaughter!” I lost my Pop in 2018, but I didn’t lose the love of storytelling he gave me.
My Nana was a Gnarla Kaarla Boodja woman. I was with her every school holidays. I was the only granny allowed to sleep with her. Her nightmares shook the bed! My Nana was a Stolen Generations baby who was trained up to be a servant.
Nan’s house was always immaculate, clean, everything in place! No dishes on the sink, no leaves in the yard! Beds made with precision folds. It was embedded in my Nan. Nan loved playing cards, listening to Merle Haggard or Charlie Pride. Her laugh was the best sound!
Nana taught me all the Noongar words I know and a few things we had to grow up doing, like be home by sunset because moondoongs come out at dark, no whistling at night, and no hair down or walking around late from October-December! She used to tease us about min min lights when we’d travel, too.
When I was 10, we went on a trip to Uluru and stayed with Nan’s daughter (my aunt?) and husband who was a Park Ranger. We were there for about nine weeks so I attended Yalara primary school but had to come home to my sick uncle. The old ladies at Mutitjulu sent us home with a coolaman, tapping sticks and a carved snake for me and a koondi or djuna (hitting club) with Nana. They sent something special home with the koondi.
Nana was stubborn. She didn’t easily show love and was very house proud. I lost my Nana in 2012, but I didn’t lose the stubbornness she instilled in me.
My Grandmother, a Yindjibarndi woman (Pop’s mum) was also a member of the Stolen Generations. Gran was a happy, always smiling, lovely woman who was respected far and wide. She did everything in her power to make sure the Native Welfare couldn’t take her babies, and they didn’t!
Gran would come to us every Sunday after church for roast pork! When we moved towns she became my pen-pal. I cherished every letter I received from her; her letters were the love and happiness I needed as a 14 year old girl going through hell. She taught me to be strong and happy no matter what and to believe that everything will be ok in the end. I wish I’d had her guidance for longer! I lost my Grandmother in 1995, but I’ve never lost the memory of her smile!
And then there’s my Dad… . After I lost my Gran and other stuff happened, I left the city and moved to the country to live with my Dad. I was able to graduate Year 12 while living with him. He gave me the home I needed!
Dad was a hard-working man. He worked long hours so we could have what we needed. Dad wasn’t Indigenous but was more in contact with my family than his own. He passed down knowledge Pop taught him. Dad was an observer and an adventurer. He left school at Year 9 and learnt everything he knew from the radio, observing, or reading. My Dad was my rock for 33 years. He was the only person I trusted 100%. I lost my Dad in 2013, but I didn’t lose the observational skills he taught me.
I moved around a lot in my childhood, but all of these people helped make me who I am and helped me stand tall and strong through all of life’s ups and downs. Their lives and the knowledge they gave me helps me teach children and adults in the workshops I do now. Their stories help me paint my art. Their stories help others understand how life was, how they made theirs better, and how to be happy.
I hope my children can see aspects of all my lost loved ones in me so I can pass on their ways, their knowledge, and their love to them.
Bianca Willder
Gnarla Kaarla Boodja/Wardandi/Yindjibarndi Yorga