AN INTERVIEW WITH JENNY MUNRO

Jenny Munro is a proud Wiradjuri woman from Erambie Mission, Cowra. She has been involved with Aboriginal organisations since she first came to Sydney in 1973. In 1978 she began working at the Aboriginal Children’s Service. She was a member of the Secretariat of National Aboriginal and Islander Child Care (SNAICC) in its early days, and one of its first chairpersons. She is one of the founding grandmothers of the Redfern Aboriginal Tent Embassy and an authorised delegate of the 2014 Freedom Summit.

<strong>Image Description:</strong> Colour-photo portrait of Jenny Munro sitting on a chair. It's her 60th birthday celebration at the Abbotts Hotel, Waterloo. She's wearing a bright pink dress. There are yellow, red and black balloons floating in the background.

Gaele Sobott: You’ve just celebrated your sixtieth birthday so let’s go back to the beginning. Would you talk about where you were born and describe the family you were born into.

Jenny Munro: I was born in a little town in central NSW called Cowra. I grew up on Erambie Mission, West Cowra, thirty-two acres. We still live there on the mission, our family, all of our mob. I was privileged to be born the daughter of Les and Agnes Coe, who are probably the most important teachers I’ve had in my life.

Teaching us about who we are, where we come from, about our mob. Our father was very good at it. He was a drover by profession so as the children of a drover we had the advantage of being able to travel and move across a lot of our Country. So he taught us a lot about our Country, the rivers, the mountains. I’ve swum in just about every river or creek in the Country of my birth.

GS: What is the Country of your birth?

JM: Wiradjuri. We’re proud and staunch Wiradjuri people. I have a history in my family of political advocates who go back generations, grandparents, great grandparents.

GS: Could you give me a few examples?

JM: My great grandfather, Harry Murray, had to fight the powers that be in the little town of Cowra when he was a young man. In the early 1900s they tried to move us from the Reserve, one of the prime pieces of land in the town that overlooks the river. He stood up and fought them to stop the move. They wanted to move us further out because the town of Cowra was growing and encroaching on the Mission.

GS: Which side of the family was Harry Murray on?

JM: My father’s side. His mother, my grandmother, was a Murray, Edie Murray. Harry Murray was her father. So he was my great grandfather. He fought them in the early 1900s. My grandmother was know by the authorities as a trouble maker because she continuously stood up to the manager of the Mission. She was involved in the Day of Mourning meeting in 1938 here in Sydney and was punished by the manager for her political advocacy for our people. In 1938 for example, within a four-month period she lost her father, her sister and her child. The manager of the mission controlled everything, whether you could marry, whether you could work or travel. So the manager wouldn’t give her rail passes to attend her sister’s funeral in Griffith. Her father was sent from the hospital in Cowra to a hospital in Sydney where he died. She had to deal with the various departments to organise his burial and faced all kinds of problems. Then the doctor in Cowra misdiagnosed her child’s illness and the welfare authorities wouldn’t approve Edie’s rail travel to take the child to Sydney for medical treatment. She finally got the money herself and travelled to Sydney but it was too late and the child died here. So she had problems with the authorities the whole way through that process. When she was at her most vulnerable they attacked like vultures. She maintained her stance and her dignity as a black woman and fought them all the way through. I like to think I have a lot of her fighting spirit in me. My grandmother.

GS: Do you have brothers and sisters?

JM: Yes, I have two sisters and two brothers. I’ve lost both my sisters so it’s just my two brothers and myself left now. We just recently lost our mother. Dad’s been gone for over thirty years but is still very much part of our lives. Teachers like that you never forget.

GS: Your brothers and sisters were fighters in the political struggle as well.

JM: Yes they were all fighters, involved in the political movement here in Sydney. The Aboriginal Legal Service, the Medical Service, the Children’s Service, any community-based organisation that you want to talk about here in Sydney, including this one up the road, the Aboriginal Housing Company. They were involved in establishing and making sure those organisations survived and thrived during that era of the seventies and eighties. My brother Paul was involved very heavily, as was my sister Isabel. It was through them that I got the opportunity to go to Canberra to the first Tent Embassy in 1972. They came through Cowra. We’re just two hours from Canberra, so they came through on the way to Canberra and told my parents to let me go with them. They let me go but the deal was that we all went, my parents, me and my younger siblings too. We all went to Canberra.

GS: How old were you?

JM: Seventeen. I was in my final year of high school. That Tent Embassy experience was a very steep learning curve for me.

GS: What prompted the first Tent Embassy Protest?

JM: Remember that any gains we have won, we fought for. We got out on the streets, on the land and marched and protested for those gains. Land Rights had been discussed, argued, protested for generations but the 1971 court decision gave extra impetus to the Land Rights campaign.

1971 was the first time Aboriginal people took the issue of ownership of land to the courts. The Milirrpum people in the Northern Territory were resisting a bauxite mine opening up on their territory at Gove, the Milirrpum versus Nabalco case. The Supreme Court judge, Blackburn, found that we Aboriginal people didn’t have any rights of ownership of our land under common law, particularly in relation to mining claims. Then on the 25th January 1972, the liberal prime minister at the time, Billy McMahon issued a press statement saying that land rights for our people would never exist. All that we would ever get from any government was a system of perpetual leases on land we already owned and occupied. That court decision and the government’s reaction was the impetus behind the Black Caucus deciding to send the four men to Canberra to set up the first Aboriginal Tent Embassy on the 26th January 1972. They were messengers for the group here in Sydney. The Northern Territory Land Rights Act was introduced in October 1975 and became law in 1976.

GS: So you were seventeen when you went to Canberra. What path did your life take after that event?

JM: I finished my Higher School Certificate and came to Sydney because there were no jobs in country towns for Aboriginal people. It didn’t matter how well you did in the Higher School Certificate there weren’t any jobs. So I came to Sydney and started my employment in the Aboriginal community-based organisations. The Aboriginal Medical Service, I worked with the Aboriginal Children’s Service from the beginning, establishing that organisation and the national bodies that flowed on from that like the National Childcare Body. I worked with the Aboriginal Legal Service so I’ve been very much a part of the process here in Sydney of asserting our rights, our rights as Aboriginal people being the best providers of services to Aboriginal people. You have to remember that back in that era in Sydney, all of the institutions were very, very overtly racist. You couldn’t walk into a real estate agency here or anywhere else in the country and rent premises for example if you were Aboriginal. They’d just tell you that there was nothing to rent. White people would walk in behind you and they’d offer them something.

GS: Are you talking about the seventies?

JM: Yes and that’s one of the reasons the Aboriginal Housing Company was established because of the racism in the real estate industry.

GS: Did you take part in setting up the Aboriginal Housing Company?

JM: Yes I was one of the original members of the organisation and Lyall (Munro jnr.) was an original board member. The organisation was established, then they actually went to Canberra in ’73 and were successful in getting the money off the Whitlam government. They got the money to purchase this land outright.

GS: So the Aboriginal Housing Company owns this land?

JM: Yes. It’s a charitable organisation and is supposed to be not for profit so as far as I’m concerned a lot of the things that are happening currently are breaches of the constitution. There are a lot of issues of conflict of interest and I am against them employing people who are not Aboriginal. We’re not fighting Aboriginal people currently in our battle for the Block, we’re fighting Housing Company employees who are Tongan. They think they have the right to interfere with Aboriginal political processes. They wouldn’t accept it if we went to Tonga and did that. The same should apply to the people here working for the Housing Company. They’re not Aboriginal people. They should not be allowed to be involved in any of our political discussions or decisions. The Housing Company through the ignorance of Micky Mundine, the CEO, and the lack of political knowledge have let those people think they have the right to do this. They don’t have the right!

GS: When did you start this tent embassy on the Block?

JM: We started on the 26th of May 2014, last year. We chose that date after deliberating over twelve months amongst the women of our community because that was the day that the so-called Apology was given for stealing our children. It was a hypocritical announcement because they are still taking our children and the numbers taken since the Apology have increased. They’ve taken more children from their families over the last fifteen to twenty years than they did during the 100 years of the Protection Act era. When is this attempt at assimilation and genocide going to end? We don’t want to be white. We have no wish to be white. All that has been forced upon our people for 227 years. We are resisting as much today as they did then. We have a culture that we are deeply immersed in, that we are very much proud of. The government will promote our dance and culture for the purposes of tourism but they will not acknowledge that our culture is a deeply imbedded part of this country.

If Aboriginal people in this country think we got justice from Native Title they are fooled because it is just another way for the white system to affirm illegitimate control of our land through their laws. They are legally extinguishing our title to the land, giving precedence to white title that has only existed for a blink of an eye compared to our culture and our law over the land. They have no respect for our law and expect us to follow their law. I will not be teaching any of my children or any Aboriginal people who talk to me any respect for their law.

GS: What do you want to achieve by setting up the Aboriginal Tent Embassy here on the Block in Redfern?

JM: Well I think the Aboriginal Housing Company has got its plans the wrong way round. They should first be building affordable housing for our people here. It should not be deals done with developers like Deicorp where they get the majority of the benefit. They shouldn’t be building shops here where the shopkeepers will not want a black community across the road from them. You walk up Redfern Street and you don’t see black people working in any of the shops or buying in there. There’s no reason to believe that we would get any employment from the planned shops. This land was bought for a black community, not for white shops and not for student accommodation for Sydney University. Student housing needs should not be imposed on an Aboriginal community that is in crisis as far as housing is concerned. The current management has a very bad management record. It was in the original constitution that the membership be capped at 100 and they have a closed board. The people on the board don’t even come from this community. The Housing Company does not represent the people it is supposedly serving. It doesn’t have our interests at heart. This community has not had a say in the plans for a very long time. We fought them over twenty years ago and that was when they moved to get rid of many members and replace us with people who only support them. They do not allow any alternative points of view. So we are not moving from here until affordable housing for this community is in place. We will stand in front of the bulldozers and do our utmost to stop any building taking place here that is not housing for our people.

Unfortunately many of the members of the Aboriginal community have already been moved out of here, purged and spread all over the place all the way out to Campbelltown. The area is being gentrified with all these new, expensive flats for white people and lots of trendy bars popping up everywhere. The difference in policing is very noticeable at Waterloo. Young people at the new bars can drink, fall over, fight and the police just ignore it all. They go down the bottom there and harass black people. Twenty years ago they wouldn’t have dared.

GS: There is the word sovereignty standing in big letters in front of the Embassy. What do you mean by the word?

JM: It means we have right to this land. It is our land. We never ceded the right to the land, the sea and the air. We have never given that right away. We never told white people in any way that we had given them this country. There are no contracts of any sort, no treaties. It is still our land. White people keep perpetuating nationhood on a lie. They said the country was terra nullius and Mabo was supposed to have knocked that on the head but in every school they still talk about Captain Cook, and explorers discovering country. This year for example, they will celebrate the two- hundred year so-called discovery of the path across the Blue Mountains. They didn’t discover anything. They followed a Blackfella up the path. That was our trading track with the Sydney people, the Eora and Wiradjuri trading track. Blaxland, Lawson and Wentworth were not the first people to cross the Blue Mountains. Stop insulting us with these lies. White people didn’t discover anything. From one end of this country to the other, they didn’t discover a thing. We didn’t lose anything and we knew exactly where everything was and what it was used for. We’ve been here for so long occupying and living off this land, for thousands if not millions of years. Science doesn’t even know how long we’ve been here. Yet we have white people driving past the tent embassy here yelling out, “Go home!” They are the first boat people. They have the absolute arrogance to dehumanise and demonise genuine refugees, people fleeing from countries where Australia has sent soldiers to fight. It’s unbelievable. They do not have the right to say those people cannot come here. Look what they’re doing to the refugees on Manus Island. They’re really demonstrating how cold and cruel and callous this country is.

GS: Can you tell me what it is for you that characterises whiteness?

JM: It’s a way of behaving, a way of living, a way of thinking that is very barbaric and depraved. They pretend they are better than everyone else, nobler, but they’re not. Like why do you think I have white blood in me? It’s not because we were willingly part of their culture but because it was forced upon us. They don’t accept that our culture has been here for such a long time. They impose their psychosis on us in terms of their description and understanding of weather patterns and the relation of our animals to the land. They’ve ruined the rivers in our country by damming them. They don’t understand the processes of flooding coming through and washing and cleansing the water systems. Wetlands have become dry because of their dams. They’ve changed the face of the continent with the hard-hoofed animals they brought here and contributed to soil erosion. All our animals have soft paws and don’t do the same damage.

You see whiteness when you walk into a room as an Aboriginal person and white people look around for their bags or physically grab their bags as if we are going to steal them. That’s the mentality of a thief. Thieves will always make sure their stash is safe. Nobody’s going to steal from them what they stole off someone else. Racism, paranoia, psychosis is an entrenched part of whiteness. Whiteness is about justifying theft of the land, rape of the land, murder, massacres, stealing Aboriginal children. It’s a sickness they really need to deal with themselves. We can’t help them with it. They have to identify what is wrong and start treating themselves and other people right. They’ve exported that mentality, that racism around the world for hundreds of years, the slave trade, Apartheid in South Africa, colonisation of indigenous peoples, the police murder of unarmed Black men, women and children in the USA. They consider our people as subhuman, or not quite human, I think they’re the ones who have the problem with dealing with their own humanity.

GS: I’d like to go back to the original Day of Mourning protest your grandmother attended. Could you tell me more about the history and meaning of the day in relation to Australia Day?

JM: The decision to make what white people call ‘Australia Day’, the Day of Mourning was taken by our leaders on the 26th January Sesquicentenary Celebrations in 1938. They stated that the day represented ‘the 150th Anniversary of the Whitemen’s seizure of our country.’ Our people stood in silence at the Town Hall and waited for the parade to pass. Then they marched in silence from the Town Hall to the Australia Hall in Elizabeth Street. That’s where they held a conference and declared the 26th of January the Day of Mourning. They endorsed a manifesto of black rights, which was a ten-point plan drawn up to stop the continuing racism and oppression that generation was experiencing. The Day of Mourning has continued since then but within the last ten or fifteen years it has been diluted by what I consider to be conservative Aboriginal people. Yabun for example, I think is very much a cultural insult to Aboriginal people. The date has always been acknowledged as a day of mourning and not a day of selling trinkets to tourists or making white people feel good about the crimes they’ve committed against our people. I want them to feel guilty every day and every night about the gross breeches of human rights that have been the norm in this country over the last 227 years. The arrogance of people coming here, trying to wipe us out then pretending we didn’t exist is unacceptable. They continue to lie to the world, whitewashing the very violent genesis of this country they now call Australia. Our people have paid a very heavy price with the massacres, the stealing of our children, the suppression of our languages and culture. These are all classic techniques of eugenics.

We are the oldest people on the planet and prior to white people coming here we lived an idyllic life. Why would I give that up to be part of a depraved and barbaric society brought here by the British who sailed around wreaking their violence and havoc on indigenous peoples the world over. They operate on the premise that might is always right, that they can perpetrate violence on which ever peoples they wish and there have been no repercussions for them. They have to be brought to account for the crimes they have committed on a world scale and here in this country.

GS: Public grieving of communities facing deaths caused by severe social, economic and political inequality, and the violence of prison and law enforcement systems, is a very political statement. We can see this by what is taking place in the United States with the Black Lives Matter movement. Could you talk about the place of public grieving in the Aboriginal struggle?

JM: We are suffering from so many and continuing deaths brought about by injustice – deaths in custody, youth suicide, inequality in healthcare provision and the like, and each death compounds with another one and another one so we don’t have a chance to grieve each loss individually. You get to a point where you can’t take any more and many of our people withdraw from interacting with other members of their community because it’s too heartbreaking to watch the deaths that are happening now in such large numbers. The deaths are a result of the oppression we are facing under this system. In 227 years we have gone from the healthiest people on the planet to the sickest people on the planet. Our people thought the 26th of January should be a day of mourning from 1938. White Australians in their denial ignore that history. They ignore the violence that they brought to us, and pretend that it was all a good thing. I mean they have stolen our birthright and consider that to be legitimate. That is one of the most evil things you can do.

GS: Can you talk about the big meeting in Canberra that’s coming up on the 26th January?

JM: We are going to Canberra because we are fighting for our right to self-determination. We will decide who our leaders are rather than Howard and Abbot or anybody else handpicking assimilationist blacks to do the job of the white man, we are going to say who our leaders are. If they don’t want to engage in conversation with our leadership, who really speak for Aboriginal people at a community and grassroots level, then they must stop the pretence. The lackeys and assimilated blacks are well paid to sell our people out. They do it every day of the week, every time they open their mouth. They say what white people want to hear rather than what Aboriginal people need.

We have white Australia tell us everyday that we break their law. Through this system we set up in Canberra, we are going to start telling white Australia how they break Black law everyday. If that means codifying our law, writing it down in simple language so that they understand, that’s what we’ll do. They will see our law and our governments in operation. Aboriginal people are coming from all over the country. We will continue to demand and march and fight for our rights like we always have.

The Recognise Campaign is just another propaganda campaign. Putting the words “prior occupation” in the constitution, which is a racist document to start with, will not give our people any legal redress within this toxic legal system of theirs. We were never involved in the architecture of the constitution.

Our law is the law of this land, not their law. Throw the constitution and white law away because it’s a bad system that only gives justice to the white rich.

So our convergence will begin on the 25th January. On the 26th we will all walk to the Aboriginal Tent Embassy from Garema Place Civic and in the afternoon there is the Isabel Coe Memorial Sovereignty Lecture. On the 27th we will have a sit-in protest and then walk to Capital Hill Parliament House. There will be lots of other events in Canberra and in other cities. We will stay in Canberra for the Grandmothers rally against removal of children, which is on the 13th February. It was grandmothers who set up the tent embassy here on the Block. It’s a women’s camp. It has rules.

GS: With current power structures as they are now, how do you see change happening?

JM: We are committed to this struggle and we will continue. We know we can’t build a fleet of boats to send them back but we will continue to fight for a system that shares this country equally, not a system that makes us beggars in our own land.

White Australia has got nothing to be proud of in their history here. They need to recognise what they have done, the crimes they have committed. Maybe then we could have a genuine dialogue about compensation for the past crimes and it might stop them continuing to commit those crimes in the future.

GS: Do you think a process similar to the Truth and Reconciliation Commission in South Africa has a place in this struggle?

JM: Yes because we have only looked at reconciliation in this country. We need to expose the truth. Truth was a vital part of the South African process. We must expose the truth here.

GS: Do you think Australia will do that?

JM: Not willingly.

GS: What will bring Australian society to that point?

JM: The world has to provide solidarity, international action has to happen the same way it did for South Africa. We also have white people here in Australia who support our struggle. That selfless solidarity is very important.

GS: You have just turned sixty. You are a grandmother and you are an Elder. How does it feel?

JM: Well I don’t feel any different. I suppose I’m grateful to get to this age because most of our people die before they get to sixty. About being an Elder, some people think it is an automatic thing. Well it’s not. You become an Elder because you have lived your life in a particular fashion giving service to your community. Your wider group will decide that you’ve reached a milestone and that you are then an Elder. It’s not like, Oh I was a dead bastard for forty years and I thought I’d change for the last five years, no that five years doesn’t make you an Elder. It’s a lifetime of working for your community. Aunty Shirl and other Elders taught me if you don’t know your subject keep your mouth shut. So I wasn’t allowed to talk in the meetings here for ten years. I just had to listen and learn and take that back to the next meeting and listen and learn again. It took me a long time to learn how to speak publically. It was probably a twenty-year process.

So I’m proud to be a strong Aboriginal Elder. My children and their children give me the greatest pride and satisfaction. We have seven children and eighteen grandchildren, one great grandchild and one more grandchild and two more great grandchildren on the way so the clan is growing.

This interview was recorded at the Aboriginal Tent Embassy in Redfern on 20th January 2015.

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Interview with Jenny Munro by Gaele Sobott is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NoDerivatives 4.0 International License.

MOLORI – the dreamer

Description of Image : Portrait photograph of a young woman, low-key, cross-processing, grainy, nostalgic style.

 

© Gaele Sobott 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Gaele Sobott with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Gallery

WHO LET THE DOGS OUT . . .

 

Black and white photograph of two men, Bulldogs fans, sitting at a table on the street in Belmore. A bulldog on a leash sits under the table.

 

Black and white photograph of Bulldogs fans in a car. The driver is flying a Bulldogs flag out the window as he drives.

 

Black and white photograph of white van with 'dogs', 'doggies', 'doggy style' spray painted across the side, streamers hanging off it driving one direction and a biker driving the other direction. The street is full of fans, waving flags.

 

NRL Bulldog fans on Burwood Road, Belmore the day before the 2014 grand final between South Sydney Rabbitohs and Canterbury Bulldogs.

 

© Gaele Sobott 2014. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Gaele Sobott with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

CROSSING CHASMS OF MISCONCEPTION: Contemporary short stories from Gaza and Sydney

Image Description: Two books.The Book Of Gaza - Front cover is a drawing of Israeli Separation Wall in the foreground and the city of Gaza beyond the wall. Stories of Sydney - Front cover is Sydney harbour and streets in turquoise on black background.
The Book of Gaza
Edited by Atef Abu Saif
Published by Comma Press 2014
128 pages
ISBN 978-1-905583-64-5
£8.75 plus postage from Comma Press

Stories of Sydney
Edited by Michael Mohammed Ahmad, Alice Grundy and David Henley
Published by Seizure and Sweatshop 2014
249 pages
ISBN 978-1-921134-26-5
$19.95 AU Seizure

“Gaza has always had a central place in the literary life of Palestine,” says editor and writer, Atef Abu Saif in his introduction to The Book of Gaza. Important Palestinian literary figures from Gaza extend back to the eighth-century poet, philologist and one of the founders of Islamic jurisprudence, Imam al-Shafii. They include poets like Mu’in Bseiso and Harun Hashim Rasheed both born in the late 1920s, and the novelist and poet, Abdul Karim Sabawi born in 1942. In 1948 the city of Gaza and the surrounding Gaza strip, which has a total area of 360 km², suddenly became home to a large number of Palestinian refugees forced from their houses, villages, towns and cities by an-Nakba. As well as being one of the oldest cities in the world Gaza became one of the most densely populated cities. With Israel’s occupation of the Gaza strip in 1967, most writers left and took refuge in countries like Lebanon, Egypt and Iraq. Abdul Karim Sabawi eventually migrated to Australia. Atef Abu Saif describes how:

Despite restrictions on freedom of expression, the art of the short story attained great popularity during the 1960s, 1970s and 1980s . . . Through the brevity and symbolism of the short story, Gazan writers found a way to overcome printing and publishing restrictions imposed by Israeli occupation forces.

In the 1980s and 90s Gaza gained a reputation as “the exporter of oranges and short stories.”

The Book of Gaza brings together 10 short stories by ten of Palestine’s modern writers. Abdallah Tayeh, Zaki al ‘Ela and Ghareeb Asqalani represent the pioneers of the short story. They describe the long queues of exhausted Palestinian workers waiting to cross into Israel. They write of curfews, prisoners’ suffering, and heroes like Zaki al ‘Ela’s Abu Jaber, who actively resists Israeli oppression. They also write about the determination and solidarity that exists between Palestinian people. Asqalani’s story in this Anthology, “A White Flower for David”, is complex and dense. It is hard work figuring out the characters and their relationships to each other. The narrators change, perspectives shift. A fraught friendship develops between a Palestinian family, which includes three generations, and Esther who is married to David, a Jewish man. Sahimah, The Palestinian mother and grandmother, finds Esther’s name strange. Esther sits cross-legged on the bed. We see her through Mahmoud’s eyes as he addresses David, ” exposing half of her flesh, nearly making my brother, Abdallah pass out. My mother threw her coat over Esther’s nakedness . . . It was Arab shame and fear, something she hadn’t expected, but you were typically Hebrew in kidding me about it.” Esther leaves the family at the end of the day wearing a madjalawi robe, a gift from Sahimah, and a knitted shawl wrapped around her head.

Cultural differences are part of the tension that underscores the relationship between the two families but far more ominous is the fact that despite the human desire to be kind, understanding, to be friends, they are positioned socially, economically, and in the everyday reality of Gaza, as enemies. The story begins with Mahmoud standing “face to face with death” forced to choose between “two deaths: to kill or see your son killed.” He decides to hurl the rock he is clasping in his hand.

Israeli soldiers are ever-present. As Mahmoud walks late at night he sees soldiers ahead of him chasing some young men. “Kicks, blows and batons rained down; aching bones and suppressed moans. The soldiers hammered them, marked every inch of their bodies, ripped out their very identities . . .”  One handsome young man cracks a joke and bursts out laughing until the pain in his jaw becomes too much for him. Mahmoud touches the man’s moist face and curses as the life drains from him. Later, Abdallah is beaten by soldiers as his nephew looks on. He lies on the ground, “a bleeding, crumpled heap . . . his vision clouding over as the sand of the street soaked up his gushing blood. It pooled in a great red patch as the UN truck loomed into view. The soldiers dragged the wounded man into the armoured car and set off . . .”  The men sell their souls seeking a day’s work, trying to scrape a living together, martyrs fall, nerves dangle on a thread. The force of anger churns in the breasts of the young men.

Mahmoud, his wife, Haifa, and son, Husam visit Esther and David’s house. Once inside, Mahmoud watches his son looking out the balcony window. His heart pounds as Husam observes a group of soldiers at a bus stop, saying “If only I had a catapult with me . . .”

The writing is tight and nuanced. The atmosphere is claustrophobic. Somehow a very delicate shard of humanity survives amongst the rubble.

The younger generation of writers in the anthology are more introspective. They write about feelings and desire. They engage with and critique their society. Their stories are less hopeful, sometimes despondent. The space surrounding the characters seems even more restricted. Atef Abu Saif’s story, “A Journey in the Opposite Direction” is about two young men and two young women who were friends in their younger days but haven’t seen each other for ten or more years. They meet by chance in the border city of Rafah. The description is rich. Thin shafts of evening sunlight play across the road. Bananas and dates hang “like lost opportunities” in front of the fruit shop at the corner of the square. Travellers are returning from work or from visiting friends and family in Gaza city. Honda and Mercedes taxis line up. People sit on plastic chairs sipping hot anise tea at a small wooden hut that serves as a café. There is just enough room for the owner to squeeze inside to make the hot drinks on a gas stove beside the fridge, or prepare the nargilah pipe. The journey to Rafah from Gaza city is about 40 kilometres. It is the longest stretch of coast and the lengthiest trip any resident of Gaza can make. Ramzi is in Rafah to meet his brother who has been living overseas for twenty years. But it takes a miracle to get in or out of Gaza.

The four young characters chase after the moon, driving from Rafah back towards Gaza in Ramzi’s small blue car. As they approach the bridge over Wadi Gaza the road gets busier until the traffic grinds to a halt. “The water from the valley had spilled over onto the road and the bridge was impassable.” The four of them stand by the car looking at the scene in disbelief like “scarecrows or ships’ masts” sunk in the harbour.

Gaza is not known for its women writers. Palestine does however have a history of women writers and poets. Although she has been largely left out of literary studies, Samira Azzam, born in Akka in 1926 is considered a pioneer in the development of the Arab and Palestinian short story. In 1948 she fled with her family to Lebanon. By the time of her death in 1967 she had published four collections of short stories including Tiny Matters (1954) and The Great Shadow (1956). Sahar Khalifeh is Palestinian writer, born 1942 in Nablus, who has published many novels depicting the life of Palestinian women.[1]

Five of the ten writers in The Book of Gaza, are women – Mona Abu Sharekh, Najlaa Ataallah, Asmaa al Ghul and Nayrouz Qarmout. Their stories are bold, sensuous, and defiant. All explore gender restrictions in their society. Nayrouz Qarmout’s “The Sea Cloak” is about a family’s trip to the beach. Gaza’s coastline is not clean. Everything is scattered about in disarray. The sand is littered with rubbish and tents dot the beach. “This is just the way Gaza is: a young girl yet to learn the art of elegance. A young girl who has not yet developed her own scent and is still, willingly or not, perfumed by all around her.” The protagonist remembers the point where her family no longer considered her a girl. Her father slapped her across the cheek. Her mother dragged her from the room, yelling, “That’s the last time you’re going out on the streets . . . You’re grown-up now, not a little girl. Go and look at yourself in the mirror. Take your sister’s scarf and wrap your hair in it.”

On the beach she is wearing a long black robe and a headscarf. She walks past a group of young men playing cards, children dying their lips with Slush Puppies, a donkey splashing about in the sea, and a stall selling lupin beans. The scent of cardamom-infused coffee wafts from hot coals, an old man recounts tales of Palestine’s history. She walks, surrounded by her memories, into the ocean. She swims further out, feeling “an excited tingle that was almost too much to bear. Arousal grew inside her . . .”

The Book of Gaza is successful in doing what it sets out to do. That is to present us with “glimpses of life in the Strip that go beyond the global media headlines.” There are stories of anxiety, oppression, violence and self-reflection, of resilience, despair and hope. By translating these stories into English and creating this anthology, Comma Press offers English-speaking readers the opportunity to read Palestinian literature and understand the everyday experiences of the people of Gaza as they struggle to live with dignity in what many have called the largest prison in the world.

Stories of Sydney is an anthology featuring five writers from Inner Sydney and ten writers from Western Sydney. In the Editor Notes at the back of the book, Michael Mohammed Ahmad explains the editors agreed that since Western Sydney’s population outweighs Inner Sydney’s population, the ratio should be reflected in the publication. Ahmad despairs that Western Sydney is misrepresented. “When you watch a movie or read a book on Western Sydney, it’s usually about ethnic crime – our guns, gangs, drugs and sexual assaults.” The anthology claims to celebrate the diversity that exists in Sydney. If diversity means an assortment or a miscellany of stories then there is definitely a mix of identifiable cultural experiences, storytelling traditions, and other language influences on the English language and writing styles within this anthology. Some stories are stronger than others. While the content of the stories vary, it is by and large situated within the context of the humdrum of everyday life.

The protagonist in Peter Polites’ story “More Handsome than a Monkey” furtively tracks his lover, “a wheat-fed kid” with “overdose green eyes and speckled guns.” He follows him on a train trip, catching the:

6.30 am, XPT Central – Orange…The shiny city turned into the inner west. The inner west became suburbia with a middle class name. Suburbia became the outer west. The outer west. The outer west became large streets, backyards with children’s toys and BBQ patios. It slowly became rural.

Polites’ writing style is almost Neo-noir with terse dialogue and a snappy first-person narrative. The observations are realist and generally gritty. A sexual relationship drives the plot. The milieu is low-level drug dealing involving “getters” and “freshies”. The main character works in a sports club where the carpet is “a multi-colour galaxy. Yellow stars, red crescents and green comets on a cyan background.” He is flawed but not deeply. He’s looking for love. His behaviour is borderline self-destructive. When things go wrong for him he finds a “fat Leb” in a matching tracksuit. Does a blowie in the toilets and is given some crystals. He moves back into the family home. It seems he always has a room there.

“The 25th Paragon of Filial Piety” by Amanda Yeo is a collection of finely wrought, slightly tongue-in-cheek snippets of the family, work and social life of a young woman. The Yuan Dynasty scholar, Guo Jujing wrote exemplars of filial piety towards parents, nearly all about the piety of sons. These were assembled into a book called The Twenty-four Paragons of Filial Devotion. Amanda Yeo tells her stories of a daughter’s exemplary conduct, helping her mother prepare kai lan, pouring hot water into an aunty’s mug while the women interrogate her sister about her ang moh boyfriend. In the story “The Curtain Between” Maryam Azam explores the tender beginnings of a relationship between two Muslim students. Tamar Chnorhokian writes about an Armenian-Australian woman who reminisces about her late aunt in “Let Me Look at Your Face”. In “Five Arrivals” Luke Carman’s character is torn away from a conversation with an artist at a party in Concord by a phone call from his cousin growling, “Where the seven fucks have you been dick-nigger?” He gets into his Camry, with its bald tyres and speeds down the highway towards Western Sydney. The road outside his cousin’s house is “streaked with tyre marks from doughies and burnouts leading to stretches of muddied lawn.” PM Newton’s story “Aqua” is superb in its rendering of emotion. The geographical setting encompasses Sydney from Chatswood to Marrickville but focuses on the North Sydney Olympic Swimming Pool with Sydney Harbour Bridge to one side and the leering grin of the Luna park entrance on the other side. It is a story told through the eyes of a daughter, now a mother, of her family’s painful experiences of the war in Vietnam, and the pool’s significance in her life.

In the Editor notes, Alice Grundy and David Henley write:

. . . there remains a divide between ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ Sydney, between the new-formed establishment and writers who live in Western Sydney, or who speak English as a second language, or whose families are migrants, or from an Indigenous background; or a combination of the above.

So what of the pressing question of diversity? It seems that here, diversity is about cultural minorities or “lives you don’t often get to see, from authors as varied as the city itself” becoming more visible, being heard, accessing the centre. In an article she wrote for The Guardian about racism in Australian theatre, Nakkiah Lui interrogates the use of the word ‘diversity’, claiming that “diversity doesn’t challenge whiteness, it bolsters it, because we are never questioning what is at the centre.” Rather than asking, why is there not enough diversity in the arts, she argues people in positions of power should be asking questions like “Why am I in the position I am in? Why do I think I deserve to be here?” She says:

We need to remember that diversity is the means to an end. Diversity isn’t complexity, and ultimately, what we want is not a diverse country but a complex one.  By accepting diversity as an end we are just fooling ourselves into thinking that the playing field is equal.[2]

Rather than critique Stories of Sydney for not including for example, more First Nation writers or writers from African communities or of African heritage, I would ask that publishers and editors look at the processes. When applying for funding for a writing/publishing project, they should think about working to  include leaders and decision makers from diverse communities. It is not a matter of ticking boxes, or token last minute inclusions to make a collection of stories diverse. It is an organic and lengthy process of searching for and inviting existing writing groups from different communities to participate, of acting in solidarity to assist the development of new groups, new writers. It is a process of opening up to varied story telling and literary traditions, different uses of language, of seemingly unusual or irregular and sometimes uncomfortable realities. It is also a process of invigorating Australian short fiction through the reinvention of writing aesthetics and reading values. The publishers of Stories of Sydney Seizure and Sweatshop Western Sydney Literacy Movement, are at least on the right path. The launch of the First Nations Australia Writers’ Network in February, and the Accessible Arts NSW Scribbler Literature Forum held in June this year are also positive moves to achieving this kind of complexity.

The Book of Gaza and Stories of Sydney present us with tales from two very different cities. While generally recognising established short story traditions, both books offer writing that contests dictates of form and style. The stories, especially those from Gaza and Western Sydney, give voice to perspectives that challenge mainstream victim, terrorist, criminal, and superhero stereotypes. Instead of flattening people into one-dimensional images these stories offer the reader a chance to feel and experience the day-to-day life of individuals, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, children, lovers, workers, living in Gaza and in Sydney. Much of the writing in these two anthologies is an act of resistance. The writers in Gaza have responded to the latest Israeli onslaught by continuing to write. [3] According to an email from Ra Page, director of Comma Press, “all of the Book of Gaza contributors are writing away like crazy, whilst they have power.” [4]

The writers in both anthologies provide bridges for readers to cross over chasms of misconception, and meet the inhabitants of different communities, neighbourhoods, suburbs, cities and surrounds. This is one way of looking at people we don’t know, to look and actually see, at least partially, the depth and complexity of their humanity.

In reading these stories we also begin to understand our own identities, our privileges and our oppression. We begin to understand our responsibilities as human beings. With Israel’s relentless aerial bombardments, shelling and ground attacks in Gaza over the past two weeks, I believe this understanding is urgent.

1. Sahar Khalifeh’s books include We Are Not Your Slave Girls (1974), Thorns(1975) translated into English by Al-Saqi Books in 1985, Sunflower(1980), Memoirs of an Unrealistic Woman (1986), The Door of the Courtyard (1990) and The Inheritance (1997).

2. Nakkiah Lui, “Is Australian Theatre Racist? The Guardian 12 June, 2014

3. Follow Najlaa Ataallah’s blog

4. Sarah Irving, “Gaza’s writers keep writing under the bombs”, Electronic Intifada, 20 July, 2014 (Eighty percent of households in Gaza currently have only up to four hours power per day)

ENLIGHTENING THE GATEKEEPERS… some thoughts on the Scribbler Literature Forum

Image Description: Books on a bookshelf. Titles include Persepolis, Of Grammatology, Radical Sydney, AfroCuba

 

One of the more well-known slogans of the disability rights movement is “Nothing About Us Without Us” – the recent closure of ABC’s “Ramp Up” accentuates the fact that there are very few of “US” in the Australian media, literature and writing sector.

For many years, South Australia was the only state to run a program, through the SA Writers’ Centre, for writers with disability. In 2012 Arts Access Victoria and Writers Victoria took up the baton by launching the Write-ability project, supporting Victorian writers with disability to develop their skills and writing careers. At the 2014 Emerging Writers Festival in Melbourne, Write-ability proudly showcased six of its emerging writers.

Accessible Arts NSW began the process of addressing the barriers faced by writers with disability in NSW by organising the SCRIBBLER – Literature Forum at the NSW State Library, on 24th June this year. I was pleased to be invited to convene this event. Writers with disability gathered together with industry professionals to hold critical conversations around what we see as key concerns. Examples of these concerns are leadership opportunities in the sector, inclusion in festivals and on writing platforms, and changing the culture surrounding disability in the arts.

The keynote speaker at the Forum, Writer and Editor, Gayle Kennedy described in detail some of the access barriers she has faced as an award-winning writer who uses a wheelchair. One example she quoted was organisers refusing to pay her carer’s airfare, which meant Gayle was prevented from attending major events:

[As a] David Unaipon Award winner ‑ I did not get to go to any other  writers’ festivals. Year in and out every award winner is invited to the  festivals. But I didn’t. I didn’t get to go to Melbourne. I didn’t get to  go to Adelaide. I didn’t get to go to Perth.

The presenters on the “Writing the Boundaries” panel gave specific examples of the discrimination that effectively nullifies or hinders equal opportunity within their chosen occupation of writing. The experiences are complex and varied. Georgia Cranko, a writer and performing artist talked about privilege and oppression in her life, “…I am often marginalised in situations, but I have been fortunate to be equipped with tools that allow me to push through that oppression and neither be crippled by it nor defined by it. My intellect has always been doubted by strangers.” She feels lucky that she can prove her capability through her academic work and writing, not only to others but also to herself. She related how the physical manifestation of her impairment sometimes offers her privilege in comparison to people whose impairment is invisible but “It also underscores the social issues that I deal with. If employers were willing to hire someone like me, I wouldn’t need to rely on the government for the pension or be terrified that it will be cut…”

Amanda Yeo, a writer from Sweatshop Western Sydney Literacy Movement, refuses to be defined by her impairment, and does not accept the limiting inspirational, tragic or superpower tropes that are used to characterise people with disability in the media and literature. She has found writing to be an excellent way to explore her identity and learn to be comfortable in her own skin. She said,

I’m not saying we should write about people who find their disability a constant factor or concern, and I’m not saying we should only write about people with disability…I’m not saying we have to write about people with disability all the time; I’m just saying write about people.

In describing our embodied experiences of trying to work within a disabling world, the writers rejected posturing on disability by writers without disability. Historically people with disability have been the objects of research, not the researchers. We have not been seen as writers but have been written about and acted upon. The obvious way to change this is for writers with disability to write about disability themselves.

Gayle Kennedy called for affirmative action in relation to creating disability leadership opportunities, and dedicated disability access and arts funding. Affirmative action is a concept that is shied away from when discussing solutions to disabling experiences of discrimination in the arts. It is possibly the idea of quotas and succession plans that scare organisations. I think there should be a focus in Australia at this time on meaningful employment targets for artists, arts managers, arts organisers and arts workers with disability. I think we should also be focusing on effective leadership succession plans for people with disability in arts organisations, especially arts and disability organisations. But I would also emphasise that affirmative actions include training programs, outreach efforts, and many other positive steps. Jane McCredie, Executive Director of the NSW Writers’ Centre suggested that writing and literature organisations should include an access component in their budgets. I would love to see the creation of a national literary prize for writers with disability. Some publishers are beginning to actively seek out manuscripts by writers with disability. Every small step is a welcome contribution to shifting attitudes, and to creating a critical mass of people with disability in key positions in literature organisations, performing on literature festival platforms, and publishing their work.

To bring about change to the disabling aspects of our industry, I think we also need to develop a more precise understanding of how gatekeepers determine who becomes literate, who learns to write, who gets funded, what the funding criteria are, who publishes, who gets publicised, promoted, invited to read. The gatekeepers are in the media, in schools, community centres and arts organisations. They are publishers, festival directors, book reviewers and event organisers. Gatekeepers may also include parents, carers and community capacity officers. They are the people who decide. They are the people who assist in forming understandings of disability, the value and often the content of our work. They form the dominant norms of the system we live in. Gatekeeping can be subtle or blatant. We hear story after story of young people with disability being told by a parent or a teacher that they can never be a writer. Many publishers are known to prefer promoting an author who fits snugly into the narrow physical realm of normalised beauty. Festival organisers prefer a writer who can travel freely without extra accessibility costs rather than a wheelchair user. By understanding how gatekeeping works we are in a better position to design affirmative actions. In terms of creating leadership that will bring about change it is already clear that writers and arts workers with disability need to access positions of power. These include positions such as publishing editor, publicist, festival director and policy maker. We need to be on the employment interview and funding assessment panel, and the board of arts organisations.

Although I’m not sure how literature as an art form fares, the Australia Council for the Arts is leading the field at the moment in providing dedicated funding for artists with disability and a focus on leadership and disability. The Council sponsored the UK based artist and disability activist, Jo Verrant’s recent talks on the transformational potential of employing disabled people in leadership roles within the cultural sector – not just for those individuals themselves, but for the invigoration of cultural strategy, and for the benefit of all. By including writers with disability we are opening up literature to diverse perspectives, writing that stretches beyond the boundaries of traditional literary form, writing that defies genre, and the way we receive and understand normalised bodies and language. Joanna Agius, a writer and Deaf Arts Officer at AARTS NSW argued the case for writing in AUSLAN and creating AUSLAN books, which brings a whole new dimension to the category of “literature”.

I recognise that discrimination is not always intentional. It can come about through fear and ignorance. In this respect writers with disability are crucial to shifting the culture that surrounds disability in the arts and in society in general. The power of literature lies in its ability to gradually shift perception, consciousness and then reality. To paraphrase the Belgian-Egyptian writer, Khaled Diab, the culture of power can at least be rattled by the power of culture.

There is a lot to be done. Many possibilities emerged from the Forum, including more genre specific discussions, regional forums, writer-with disability-led initiatives, the creation of writing resources for writers with disability, exploration and replication of the S.A. and Victorian mentoring programs, advocate/agents who approach publishers on behalf of writers with complex communication requirements, the development of diversity action plans. Many writers at the Forum commented on Executive Director of the Australian Society of Authors, Angelo Loukakis’, reference to the Women’s Liberation Movement of the 60s and 70s when “sisters were doing it for themselves”. There is a move amongst writers with disability to create their own writing groups, their own networks and their own performance and publication platforms. While writers with disability would like to find ways of sustaining these initiatives themselves, there is also a desire to agitate for taxpayers’ money to be distributed more justly across the arts.

It is essential for writers with disability, our allies in the sector, Accessible Arts NSW and industry professionals to follow up on the ideas and the momentum created by the Scribbler forum.

Sam Twyford-Moore, the director of the Emerging Writers Festival finished his presentation at the Scribbler Forum with a quote, “Festival directors are gatekeepers, but most enlightened gatekeepers take on the role because they relish opening the gates, not because they like slamming them shut. Most responsible festival directors are acutely aware of accessibility and diversity issues, and are driven by a desire to transcend those limitations, not to cement them.”

For the benefit of literature, the arts and society in general, let us now enlighten the gatekeepers. More importantly let “US” too become enlightened gatekeepers, attuned to the specific manner disability discrimination operates in the industry, and also to the form, content and location of discrimination against writers and arts workers who belong to other sections of society.

Links to organisations mentioned in this blog:

Accessible Arts NSW

Arts Access Victoria

Australia Council for the Arts

Australian Society of Authors

Emerging Writers’ Festival

NSW Writers’ Centre

SA Writers’ Centre

Sweatshop Western Sydney Literacy Movement

Writers Victoria

 

Support and promote community-led healing to end Indigenous suicide

BE PART OF THE HEALING

EldersReport4 Almost non-existent 30 years ago, the rate of youth suicide and self-harm in Indigenous communities across Australia is now the highest in the world. Urgent action is desperately needed to address this crisis.

Current mainstream efforts by Government policy makers and health and social services are not working, nor are they empowering communities to implement their own solutions.

Indigenous community leaders and Elders are calling for your support to help them heal their young people, by reconnecting them to their culture, and strengthening their sense of identity.

They are asking that long-term funding be directed to grassroots, community-based programs that are working on the frontline with at-risk youth, providing vital support, cultural education and on-country healing.

Link

The Elders’ Report into Preventing Indigenous Self-harm & Youth Suicide

EldersReport

The Elders’ Report into Preventing Indigenous Self-harm & Youth Suicide

“The speakers in this Report are calling for urgent understanding and action to improve Indigenous wellbeing in Australia. What we
know from decades of experience is that bringing in outsiders does not lead to long term solutions – these can only come from
within communities, who need to own and control the healing process. Themes such as community empowerment, the strengthening
of cultural identity, maintenance of Indigenous languages, culturally appropriate employment, bi-cultural education and returning to country; these human rights are what our people have been advocating for decades and for good reason….”

Mick Gooda
Gangulu (QLD)
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Social
Justice Commissioner
Australian Human Rights Commission

Video

Georgia Cranko Presentation at Sweatshop WS Artists with Disability Seminar

Highlights from the November 2013 Sweatshop WS Artists with Disability Seminar held at Writing and Society Research Centre, University of Western Sydney, Bankstown Campus, facilitated by Dr Gaele Sobott. The seminar was a chance for artists to discuss their stories and experiences, and the politics of disability.

Video

Highlights Sweatshop Western Sydney Artists with Disability Seminar

Highlights from the November 2013 Sweatshop WS Artists with Disability Seminar held at Writing and Society Research Centre, University of Western Sydney, Bankstown Campus, facilitated by Dr Gaele Sobott. The seminar was a chance for artists to discuss their stories and experiences, and the politics of disability.