Year 8 2020 Indigenous E-Book
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The Lost Generation
23th June 2019
The tears silently rolled down my face as my son and I drove slowly past the train station where it all began. The bright blue train station is filled with lots of unhappy people making their way home from work. My hands started to grip to the steering wheel as I remembered what happened. My memories of before this time are of my large family, laughing, playing and being carefree. I turn to face my son as I prepare to tell him of my past.
February 16th 1914
It comes back vividly, the day they came and forcibly took us away from our parents. We were very young and frightened especially when our older brothers escaped from them and my younger brother, sister and I were put on a train and at the time, we had no idea what was happening to us. We were all terrified and we didn’t know where this train was taking us. It was a freezing cold night and there was no one else on the train except us. It was dark when the train eventually stopped and we could see the lights of an empty city like we had never seen before. The city was so pretty with the night lights. We were taken to a cold dark place with rows and rows of beds which would become our home.
February 17th 1914
Our days began at 4:30am with a bowl of watery porridge that was supposed to keep us going while we were expected to scrub the floors, clean the dishes and do the laundry all by hand in scalding hot water and lye soap that left our hands red, raw and painful. This was our life and it was controlled by cold and heartless people.
23th June 2019
Next we drive past farmland which reminds me of my next home.
July 27th 1916
A boy’s farm on the outskirts of Bathurst. Once again my days were filled with back breaking work from early morning to late afternoons in the fields. All day we were working harder than ever harvesting potatoes in the freezing cold or on a boiling hot day. It was hard being separated from my brother and sister, not being able to take care of them anymore or knowing what happened to them.
Even though I am free, I must teach my son of what happened because he needs to know what my story is so he can share it with the next generation.
23th June 2019
The tears silently rolled down my face as my son and I drove slowly past the train station where it all began. The bright blue train station is filled with lots of unhappy people making their way home from work. My hands started to grip to the steering wheel as I remembered what happened. My memories of before this time are of my large family, laughing, playing and being carefree. I turn to face my son as I prepare to tell him of my past.
February 16th 1914
It comes back vividly, the day they came and forcibly took us away from our parents. We were very young and frightened especially when our older brothers escaped from them and my younger brother, sister and I were put on a train and at the time, we had no idea what was happening to us. We were all terrified and we didn’t know where this train was taking us. It was a freezing cold night and there was no one else on the train except us. It was dark when the train eventually stopped and we could see the lights of an empty city like we had never seen before. The city was so pretty with the night lights. We were taken to a cold dark place with rows and rows of beds which would become our home.
February 17th 1914
Our days began at 4:30am with a bowl of watery porridge that was supposed to keep us going while we were expected to scrub the floors, clean the dishes and do the laundry all by hand in scalding hot water and lye soap that left our hands red, raw and painful. This was our life and it was controlled by cold and heartless people.
23th June 2019
Next we drive past farmland which reminds me of my next home.
July 27th 1916
A boy’s farm on the outskirts of Bathurst. Once again my days were filled with back breaking work from early morning to late afternoons in the fields. All day we were working harder than ever harvesting potatoes in the freezing cold or on a boiling hot day. It was hard being separated from my brother and sister, not being able to take care of them anymore or knowing what happened to them.
Even though I am free, I must teach my son of what happened because he needs to know what my story is so he can share it with the next generation.
The objects approached the shore
We didn't know what to do, we didn't know who they were
Everyone scrambled up off the floor
One of the creatures, my wife, they grabbed her
Retaliating in anger I burst into a rage
My people abused and locked up in a cage
There was nothing but violence in these times
The british killing, they were in their prime
The Aboriginals fought for the land
But in the end, ended up losing a hand
They attacked us in the night, making it an unfair fight
They took us away not so long ago
From the small country town of Ando
They beat my dad, they threw us in a van
I was taken in by a scary old man
He took away my rights
And made me act like I was one of the whites
But no one will ever really understand
The beatings I got from my old man
1975 was the year we got back our land
When Gough Whitlam poured soil back into back into our hands
The damage was done but won't be forgotten
The way we were treated made us feel rotten
Though it is time to forgive
Now we can actually live
We didn't know what to do, we didn't know who they were
Everyone scrambled up off the floor
One of the creatures, my wife, they grabbed her
Retaliating in anger I burst into a rage
My people abused and locked up in a cage
There was nothing but violence in these times
The british killing, they were in their prime
The Aboriginals fought for the land
But in the end, ended up losing a hand
They attacked us in the night, making it an unfair fight
They took us away not so long ago
From the small country town of Ando
They beat my dad, they threw us in a van
I was taken in by a scary old man
He took away my rights
And made me act like I was one of the whites
But no one will ever really understand
The beatings I got from my old man
1975 was the year we got back our land
When Gough Whitlam poured soil back into back into our hands
The damage was done but won't be forgotten
The way we were treated made us feel rotten
Though it is time to forgive
Now we can actually live
Defeat
Seeing this massive boat charging towards shore
I take a step back to prepare myself for war
We fear in silence as we are offshore
Waiting in distress for the news to come forth
Here we are standing ready for war
The massive boat arrives to the coast
My people and I prepare for the most
As the strange boat is getting very close
We all take a step back disappearing like ghosts
As we all prepare ourselves for the most
The strange people set out their massive sail
As the strong, viscous, wind blows a gale
My brown, old, wrinkly, face starts to go pale
As we start to spear at their massive tail
Looking into the grey, stormy distance
I fear my very own existence
As our strong spearing is very consistent
We have no resistance
As we need so much assistance
Seeing this massive boat charging towards shore
I take a step back to prepare myself for war
We fear in silence as we are offshore
Waiting in distress for the news to come forth
Here we are standing ready for war
The massive boat arrives to the coast
My people and I prepare for the most
As the strange boat is getting very close
We all take a step back disappearing like ghosts
As we all prepare ourselves for the most
The strange people set out their massive sail
As the strong, viscous, wind blows a gale
My brown, old, wrinkly, face starts to go pale
As we start to spear at their massive tail
Looking into the grey, stormy distance
I fear my very own existence
As our strong spearing is very consistent
We have no resistance
As we need so much assistance
Forever Me
Darkness. It surrounds me like a large, pitch black blanket, wrapping around me as if it will squeeze me to death. It feeds on my fear, drinking it like a massive mosquito sucking the blood out of a human. I’ve always been nyctophobic since I was a baby and still now as an young, independent adolescent boy. I’m so terrified that I will sometimes cry until I fell asleep, but thankfully my parents were always there to sit with me until I fell into a slumber. That was until my family was broken by the most terrifying events which brought destruction and chaos throughout my tribe and the creatures that brought this upon us were the white people.
The white people were like red foxes, overpopulated and extremely hard to exterminate, but they were ten times worse. They had the same bodies as us, ate food and drank water like us and moved like us, except.... they weren’t. They looked different, dressed differently, talked differently and worst of all, they thought differently. For my culture, the Whadjuks, we think that taking someone away from their land is a disgrace, while the white people believe that this is a good thing. They believe in it so much they literally did it.
Their leaders decided to strip families from their land and placed them under roofs and between walls. They were called reserves and missions. Our sacred lands were turned to land for grazing. Worst of all, they decided to take the kids away from our families so we could learn to be just like them, to act like them, to look like them, to hate like them. And we lost our culture. But not me, when they came to my family to take me, I fought them and used my kylie (boomerang), hielaman (shield) and pure, burning courage to fight them off and escape.
Now, a month later, I look out of the window of my hut, staring into the darkness, thinking about how far I have come from when I escaped the white people to now. Now with my tribe of young boys who like me, who want to fight for our land, we will fight the white people as a rebellion and rid our kind from them and finally restore peace to our lands. For I am Yarren of the Whadjuk tribe and as long as I have blood pumping through my veins, I will fight for freedom, even if I get myself killed.
Darkness. It surrounds me like a large, pitch black blanket, wrapping around me as if it will squeeze me to death. It feeds on my fear, drinking it like a massive mosquito sucking the blood out of a human. I’ve always been nyctophobic since I was a baby and still now as an young, independent adolescent boy. I’m so terrified that I will sometimes cry until I fell asleep, but thankfully my parents were always there to sit with me until I fell into a slumber. That was until my family was broken by the most terrifying events which brought destruction and chaos throughout my tribe and the creatures that brought this upon us were the white people.
The white people were like red foxes, overpopulated and extremely hard to exterminate, but they were ten times worse. They had the same bodies as us, ate food and drank water like us and moved like us, except.... they weren’t. They looked different, dressed differently, talked differently and worst of all, they thought differently. For my culture, the Whadjuks, we think that taking someone away from their land is a disgrace, while the white people believe that this is a good thing. They believe in it so much they literally did it.
Their leaders decided to strip families from their land and placed them under roofs and between walls. They were called reserves and missions. Our sacred lands were turned to land for grazing. Worst of all, they decided to take the kids away from our families so we could learn to be just like them, to act like them, to look like them, to hate like them. And we lost our culture. But not me, when they came to my family to take me, I fought them and used my kylie (boomerang), hielaman (shield) and pure, burning courage to fight them off and escape.
Now, a month later, I look out of the window of my hut, staring into the darkness, thinking about how far I have come from when I escaped the white people to now. Now with my tribe of young boys who like me, who want to fight for our land, we will fight the white people as a rebellion and rid our kind from them and finally restore peace to our lands. For I am Yarren of the Whadjuk tribe and as long as I have blood pumping through my veins, I will fight for freedom, even if I get myself killed.