Woollydays_Stolen_Generation_Story
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Roslyn Choikee's "Stolen Generation" (de: Gestohlene Generation) Geschichte.

Seit fast zehn Jahren behauptet der rechte Kolumnist Andrew Bolt, die "gestohlene Generation" sei ein Mythos. "Zeig mir drei von ihnen?" war seine übliche Stichelei, aber es war eine Stichelei, die mehr seine Ignoranz und seinen denkfaulen Journalismus zeigte als die Wahrheit.

Die Daten zeigen, dass Tausende von Menschen, meist sogenannte "Mischlinge", seit vielen Jahrzehnten in einem System gefangen sind, von denen die damaligen kranken Theorien glaubten, sie würden am besten von dem Einfluß ihrer Eltern ferngehalten. Sie hinterließen Hunderte in den Akten verstreute Aussagen.

Eine von diesen war von der Aboriginie Roslyn Choikee. Ich erfuhr ihre Geschichte heute in der Bibliothek von Mount Isa. Ich war schon ein paar Mal dort gewesen, aber ich hatte nie bemerkt, das sie ein Fach mit Büchern über indigene Themen hatten.

Ich wählte Jonathan Richards "The Secret War" (etwa: Der geheime Krieg), ein wichtiges Buch über die Queensland Native Police, dass ich zuvor gelesen hatte, und eines, dass ich vorher noch nicht gelesen hatte: Stuart Rintouls Buch aus dem Jahr 1993 "“The Wailing – A National Black Oral History” (etwa: Das Wehklagen - Zeitzeugen zur Geschichte der Ureinwohner).

Es ist, wie der Titel suggeriert, eine Zusammenstellung von Aussagen indigener Menschen, die während des 20. Jahrhunderts lebten. Fast alle sahen sich irgendwelchen Notlagen gegenüber, aber einige Geschichten waren weniger eindeutig als andere, wie etwa die von Roslyn Choikee. Ich interessierte mich für ihre Geschichte, weil sie in Cloncurry, in der Nähe von Mount Isa, geboren wurde, und ich schrieb ihren Augenzeugenbericht für einen Artikel für die Zeitung auf.

Ihre Geschichte war einfach, verlief aber nicht geradlinig. Es war sowohl schrecklich - mit sechs Jahren wurde sie ihren Eltern weggenommen - als auch erfüllt - weil sie trotzdem eine glückliche Kindheit und ein gutes Leben am Meer bei Mission Bay hatte.

Sie wurde an der Küste zu einer glücklich verheirateten Christin, und hat ihre Heimat nie vermisst. Dass sie in Mission Bay, in der Nähe von Cairns gelandet ist, hat dazu beigetragen. Yarrabah wurde 1892 als christliche Mission für Aborigines gegründet. Viele Leute wie Roslyn wurden gezwungen dorthin zu gehen. Es bleibt aber ein schöner Ort, eingebettet zwischen dem Meer und den Bergen.

Sieben Jahrzehnte später war Roslyn immer noch da und 77 Jahre alt, als sie an einem sonnigen Nachmittag im Juli auf einer steinernen Veranda Rintoul im Altenheim von Yarrabah ihre Geschichte erzählte. Ihr Glück rechtfertigte kein so haarstäubendes Verfahren, aber es zeigte die Widerstandsfähigkeit der Menschen, sich an alles anzupassen, was auch immer das Leben ihnen zumutet.

Choikee:"Ich komme aus Cloncurry. Ich wurde meinen Eltern im Jahre 1920 weggenommen. Ich war sechs Jahre alt. Ich wusste nicht, was geschah, als ich nach Yarrabah kam. Es gab eine gute Schulausbildung hier. Wir gingen immer an den Strand und suchten Muscheln. So lernten wir damals zu zählen, mit Muscheln oder Samen.

Wir hatten eine gute Lehrerin. Sie war ein dunkelhäutiges Mädchen, ein großes Mädchen, ein Mädchen von der Abschlußklasse. Wir hatten ein Zimmer für die Abschlußklässler, die Fortgeschrittenen und die Anfänger. Wenn man nach Yarrabah kam, wurde man, wenn man groß war, in den Klassenraum für Fortgeschrittene gesetzt, und wenn man klein war wie ich, ging man in den Raum für Anfänger." Rintoul: Erinnern Sie sich, was an dem Tag geschah, als Sie fortgenommen wurden?"

"Der Polizist brachte uns zur Polizeiwache, mich und ein paar andere Mädchen. Aber die beiden Mädchen, die mit mir dort waren, gingen nach Cherbourg, und jetzt sind sie verstorben, diese Mädchen. Mich hat man hierher nach Yarrabah geschickt. Mir gefiel Yarrabah: Yarrabah ist ein hübscher Ort. Ich hatte hier nie Heimweh, weil ich viele nette kleine Mädchen gefunden habe, die im gleichen Alter waren wie ich." "Sie haben ihre Eltern nicht vermisst?“

"Oh, doch. Mitunter vermisste ich sie, aber hier in Yarrabah hatten wir zu viele Freundinnen. Geh zur Schule, komm zurück, spiele.

"Wir lebten in einem Reservat in Cloncurry - einem kleinen Reservat für Aborigines. Das war auch so in Ordnung. Als ich ein kleines Mädchen war, gingen wir immer nach Boulia, um beim Rodeo zuzusehen. Dort sah ich, wie Männer auf bockenden Pferden ritten. ...

Ein Ochsenwagen nahm uns gewöhnlich von Cloncurry nach Boulia mit. Das war damals ein holpriger Weg. Sie sagen, es ist jetzt eine große Straße aus Bitumen.

"Ich will nicht zurückgehen, weil es dort niemanden mehr gibt. Der Sohn meiner Kusine ging vor zwei Jahren zurück, um sich umzuschauen, und es gab keinen einzigen Freund mehr dort, nicht ein Eingeborener war in dem Gebiet dort. Sie wissen nicht, wohin man sie gebracht hat. .... Wir hörten nie etwas und sie hörten nie etwas von uns.

"Alle Mischlingskinder wurden damals weggebracht ubd zu verschiedenen Missionen geschickt. Einige von ihnen wurden nach Barrambah (Cherbourg), Palm Island und auch hierher gebracht. ... Ich wurde hierher nach Yarrabah geschickt. Mein Vater war ein weißer Mann und meine Mutter war eine dunkelhäutige Frau, wissen Sie. Sie waren nicht verheiratet. Ich wusste nichts über Eheschließungen, bis ich nach Yarrabah kam. Sie waren trotzdem gut zu uns.

Sie halfen sich und auch uns Kindern. Sie brachten uns ab und zu nach Boulia. Die Weißen kreuzen immer einfach so auf. Ich war zu jung, um zu wissen, was geschah, als sie bei uns vorbeikamen. Wir gingen nie ins Zentrum von Cloncurry. Wir würden einfach dort bleiben, wo das Reservat der Aborigines war. Wir hatten Zelte und Humpies, keine Häuser.

Seit dem Tag an dem ich weggebracht wurde, habe ich nie mehr etwas von meiner Mutter gehört. ... Aber sobald ich nach Yarrabah kam, war ich glücklich hier und dachte nie mehr daran. Ich dachte zwar an meine Mutter, aber ich würde nicht zurückgehen, um zu sehen, ob sie dort war oder so etwas.

Als ich nach Yarrabah kam, begannen wir zur Schule zu gehen und in der Schule fanden wir gelegentlich Freundinnen in unserem Alter. Es war wirklich gut. Wir konnten nicht wirklich viel auf Englisch sagen, bis wir hierher nach Yarrabah kamen. ... Bis ich hierher kam, wusste ich nicht viel. Ich wusste überhaupt nichts über Gott. Nun bin ich Christin. Ich wusste überhaupt nichts darüber bis ich nach Yarrabah kam. Das ist da, wo wir das Christentum kennen lernten, in Yarrabah.

"Mein Name war Daisy Sheridan. Er wurde geändert, als ich hierhin kam und getauft wurde. Meine Patin, Ciccy Thompson, gab mir den Namen Roslyn Bell. Jeder, der hierhin kam, wurde in der St. Alban Kirche getauft. Ich wusste, dass mein Name Daisy war, aber das war in Ordnung. Ich musste meinen Namen in Choikee umändern, als ich heiratete. Choikee ist ein traditioneller Name bei den Aborigines in der Gegend von Yarrabah.

" Das Wohnheim war richtig gut. Als ich erstmals kam, hatten wir zwei Hausmütter, Miss Ardley und Miss Newbury. Während des Tages spielten wir. Wir arbeiteten nie viel. Gewöhnlich harkten wir nur den Hof, mit unseren Händen. Normalerweise säuberten wir den Hof und, wenn man größer und volljährig wurde, arbeitete man härter. In dieser Zeit gingen wir nur bis zur Klasse 5 zur Schule. In der fünften Klasse verließen wir die Schule. ...

"Mr. Dobar kam eines Tages nach Yarrabah. Er war ein Weißer, der die Missionen betreute. Er kam zur Schule und wir hatten aufzustehen und 'Ornithorhynchus' zu buchstabieren (sie buchstabiert es vor), weil er uns das zu lernen aufgegeben hatte, manche konnten es nicht, aber andere konnten es, und er sagte zu ihnen: "Braves Mädchen."

Ornithorhynchus ist ein Schnabeltier. Meine Enkelin, die in Brisbane zur Schule geht, meint, sie würden in der 8. Klasse lernen 'Ornithorhynchus' zu buchstabieren, aber wir lernten 'Ornithorhynchus' in der 5. Klasse zu buchstabieren. ... Das war das letzte Jahr, dass wir in der Schule waren.

"Nach Klasse 5 arbeiteten wir und stellten ausgefallene Arbeiten her. Gewöhnlich nähten wir ausgefallene Dinge und umhäkelten sie. Miss Hogan schickte uns gewöhnlich eine große Kiste mit Kleidern, mit denen wir nähen und die wir originell bearbeiten konnten. Sie bereiteten uns darauf vor, Ehefrauen zu sein. Wir mussten Essen kochen lernen, wir mussten Kleider waschen lernen, wir mussten bügeln lernen. Miss Hahn, die Hausmutter, würde uns alles, was noch schmutzig war, zurückgeben.

Jungs gingen morgens in die Schule, die Jungs gingen immer auf einer Straße zur Kirche und wir gingen immer auf einer anderen Straße zur Kirche. Wir gingen nicht alle zusammen hin: wir hatten keinen Kontakt zueinander. Wenn wir uns verliebten, würden sie kommen und mit uns im Hof sprechen, wenn die Hausmutter dabei war. Wir würden uns dann verloben. Genauso habe ich mich verlobt." Wie konnten Sie sich verlieben, wenn Sie nicht miteinander sprechen konnten?

(Sie lacht.) "Ich weiß es nicht. Wir würden uns in der Kirche ansehen, und manchmal sah uns die Hausmutter. "Oh", würde sie knurren: "Du darfst dort nicht hinschauen, wo die Jungen sind", würde sie sagen. Wir machten uns, als wir klein waren, nichts aus Jungs, bis wir in die Fortgeschrittenenklasse gingen, so zwischen dreizehn und vierzehn.

"Mein Ehemann war Robert Choikee. Er war einer der Jungen, der zu uns kam und mit uns sprach. Gewöhnlich kamen sie vom Wohnheim und saßen auf einem großen Platz rund um den Mangobaum. Etwa neun von uns saßen herum, erzählten nur und hatten unseren Spaß. Das war in Ordnung.

Wir würden dort sitzen und die Hausdame würde auf der Veranda sitzen und wenn es Zeit war, dass sie gehen sollten, würde sie auf einer Pfeife blasen und sie würden dann gehen. Sie waren nicht lange dort. Aber wir trafen uns nie allein, bis wir heirateten. Wir durften das nicht. Uns wurde gesagt, wir dürften es nicht.

"Es gab ein Lied, das wir nachts immer im Schlafsaal sangen:"‘Oh where is my wandering boy tonight?‘ Das ist ein christliches Lied. Das war die Jungfrau Maria, die damals sang, als Jesus im Tempel war und sie ihn nicht finden konnte. Sie wollten nach Jerusalem gehen, aber sie konnte ihn nicht finden, also sang sie dieses Lied; und wir haben es gelernt.

Aber Miss Hahn, unsere Hausmutter, dachte, wir würden die Jungen in der Nähe die ganze Zeit ermutigen. Sie würde uns rügen, " Ermutigt ihr die Jungen wieder? ... Wollt ihr, dass die Jungen hier herumschleichen?" Wir hörten immer damit auf und begannen mit einem anderen Lied, aber wenn wir auf irgendetwas zurückkamen, um die Jungen wieder herbei zu locken, fing sie wieder damit an. 'Hört endlich auf damit und ermutigt die Jungen nicht', würde sie sagen. Das war ein gutes Lied."
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Roslyn Choikee’s Stolen Generation story.
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For almost ten years, right-wing columnist Andrew Bolt has claimed the Stolen Generation is a myth.
1 Translations, 3 Upvotes, Last Activity 7 years, 7 months ago
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They left hundreds of testaments scattered in the record.
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One of those was from Aboriginal woman Roslyn Choikee.
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I learned her story today in Mount Isa city library.
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Her story was simple but not straight forward.
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She became a happily married Christian on the coast, and never missed her home.
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It helped she landed in Yarrabah on Mission Bay near Cairns.
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Yarrabah was established as a Christian mission for Aboriginal people in 1892.
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Many people like Roslyn were forced to go there.
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But it remains a beautiful spot nestled between the sea and the mountains.
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Choikee: “I come from Cloncurry.
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I was taken away from my parents in 1920.
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I was six years old.
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I didn’t know what was happening when I came to Yarrabah.
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It was good schooling here.
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We used to go down to the beach and get shells.
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That’s how we learned to count, with shells or with seeds at that time.
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We had a good teacher.
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She was a dark girl, a big girl, a senior girl.
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We had senior room, intermediate room and junior room.
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“The policeman took us to the police station, me and some other girls.
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They sent me here to Yarrabah.
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I liked Yarrabah: Yarrabah is a pretty place.
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“Oh yes.
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Now and again I missed them, but here at Yarrabah we had too many mates.
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Go to school, come back, play.
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“We were living on a reserve at Cloncurry – a little dark people’s reserve.
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That’s all right too.
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We used to go to Boulia to see the rodeo when I was a little girl.
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That’s where I saw buck-jumping.
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A bullock-wagon used to take us from Cloncurry to Boulia.
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That was a bridle track then.
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They say it’s a big bitumen road now.
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“I won’t go back because there is nobody there now.
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They don’t know where they shifted them.
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We never heard nothing and they never heard about us.
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“All the half-caste children were taken away at the time and sent to different missions.
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Some of them went to Barrambah (Cherbourg), Palm island, here.
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I was sent here to Yarrabah.
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My father was a white man and my mother was a dark woman, you see.
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They weren’t married.
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I didn’t know about marriage till I came to Yarrabah.
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They were good though.
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They helped them and they helped us children too.
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They took us to Boulia now and again.
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The white men used to just come around.
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I was too young to know what was happening when they would come around to visit us.
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We didn’t go to the town part at Cloncurry.
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We would just stay down where the Aboriginal reserve was.
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We had tents and humpies, no houses.
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“I never heard nothing about my mother from the day I was taken away, no more.
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But when I came to Yarrabah I was happy here and I never thought of it anymore.
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I did think of my mother, but I wouldn’t go back to see if she was there or anything like that.
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It was really good.
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We didn’t know how to talk much till we came here to Yarrabah.
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Till I came here, I didn’t know much.
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I didn’t know anything about the Lord.
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I’m a Christian now.
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I didn’t know nothing about it till I came to Yarrabah.
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That’s where we learned Christianity, at Yarrabah.
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“My name was Daisy Sheridan.
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It was changed when I came here and was baptised.
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My godmother, Ciccy Thompson, gave me the name Roslyn Bell.
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Everyone who came here was baptised at St Alban’s Church.
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I knew that my name was Daisy, but that was all right.
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I had to change my name when I got married, to Choikee.
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Choikee is a traditional name of Aboriginal people around the Yarrabah area.
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“The dormitory was really good.
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We had two matrons, Miss Ardley and Miss Newbury, when I first came.
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During the day we played.
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We never used to work much.
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Only we used to rake up, with our hands.
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We used to clean the yard, and when you grew up, coming on to full age, you did harder work.
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We went to school only up to grade five at that time.
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When we got to grade five we left school.
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“Mr Dobar came up to Yarrabah one time.
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He was a white man who looked after the missions.
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Ornithorhynchus is a platypus.
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That was the last year that we were in school.
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“After grade five we worked and did fancy work.
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We used to sew fancy work, crochet around.
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Miss Hogan used to send us a big box of clothes for us to sew and do fancy work on.
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They got us ready to be wives.
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We had to learn to cook, we had to learn to wash, we had to learn to iron.
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Miss Hahn, the matron, would send us back anything that had grease on it.
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We didn’t go together all: we didn’t see each other.
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If we fell in love they’d come and talk to us in the yard, with matron.
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We’d get engaged then.
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That’s how I got engaged.” How could you fall in love if you couldn’t talk to each other?
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(She laughs.)
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“I don’t know.
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We’d look at each other in church and sometimes matron would see us.
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Oh she’d growl, ‘You mustn’t look over there where the boys are,’ she’d say.
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“My husband was Robert Choikee.
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He was one of the boys who came up and talked to us.
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They used to come up from the dormitory and sit on a big seat around the mango tree.
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There were about nine of us all sitting around, just yarning and having a joke of our own.
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That was all right.
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They weren’t there long.
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But we never met alone at any time until we got married.
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We weren’t allowed.
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We were told not to do it.
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That was the Virgin Mary singing that time when Jesus was in the temple and she couldn’t find him.
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They wanted to go to Jerusalem but she couldn’t find him, so she sang that song and we learned it.
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But Miss Hahn, our matron, though we were encouraging the boys around all the time.
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She would sing out, ‘Are you encouraging the boys again?
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‘Stop it now, stop it now, no encouraging the boys,’ she’d say.
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That was a good song.”
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Roslyn Choikee’s Stolen Generation story.

For almost ten years, right-wing columnist Andrew Bolt has claimed the Stolen Generation is a myth. “Show me three of them?” was his common taunt, but it was a taunt that showed more about his ignorance and his lazy journalism than the truth.

The data shows thousands of people caught up in the system over many decades, mostly so-called “half-castes” which the ill-guided theories of the time believed were best kept away from the influence of their parents. They left hundreds of testaments scattered in the record.

One of those was from Aboriginal woman Roslyn Choikee. I learned her story today in Mount Isa city library. I had been there a few times before but never noticed they had a tray of books about Indigenous issues.

I picked Jonathan Richards’ The Secret War, an important book about the Queensland Native Police I’d read before and one I hadn’t read before Stuart Rintoul’s 1993 book “The Wailing – A National Black Oral History”.

It is as the title suggests, a collection of Indigenous testimony of people that lived through the 20th century. Nearly all faced hardship of some kind but some stories were less clear cut than others, such as Roslyn Choikee. I was interested in her story because she was born in Cloncurry, near Mount Isa, and I typed out her testimony for an article for the paper.

Her story was simple but not straight forward. It was both terrifying – she was stolen from her parents aged six – and satisfying – because she had a happy childhood and a good life by the shores of Mission Bay, regardless.

She became a happily married Christian on the coast, and never missed her home. It helped she landed in Yarrabah on Mission Bay near Cairns. Yarrabah was established as a Christian mission for Aboriginal people in 1892. Many people like Roslyn were forced to go there. But it remains a beautiful spot nestled between the sea and the mountains.

Seven decades later Roslyn was still there, aged 77, when in the sunshine of a July afternoon she told her story to Rintoul on a stone veranda at the Yarrabah home for the aged. Her happiness didn’t justify an appalling system but it showed the resilience of people to adapt to whatever life throws at them.

Choikee: “I come from Cloncurry. I was taken away from my parents in 1920. I was six years old. I didn’t know what was happening when I came to Yarrabah. It was good schooling here. We used to go down to the beach and get shells. That’s how we learned to count, with shells or with seeds at that time.

We had a good teacher. She was a dark girl, a big girl, a senior girl. We had senior room, intermediate room and junior room. When you came to Yarrabah, if you came big they would put you in the intermediate room and if you came small, like my age, you would go into the junior room.”

Rintoul: Do you remember what happened the day you were taken away?

“The policeman took us to the police station, me and some other girls. But the two girls who were with me there went to Cherbourg, and they’ve passed away now, those girls. They sent me here to Yarrabah. I liked Yarrabah: Yarrabah is a pretty place. I never got homesick here, because I found a lot of nice little girls the same age as my age.”

You didn’t miss your parents?

“Oh yes. Now and again I missed them, but here at Yarrabah we had too many mates. Go to school, come back, play.

“We were living on a reserve at Cloncurry – a little dark people’s reserve. That’s all right too. We used to go to Boulia to see the rodeo when I was a little girl. That’s where I saw buck-jumping.

A bullock-wagon used to take us from Cloncurry to Boulia. That was a bridle track then. They say it’s a big bitumen road now.

“I won’t go back because there is nobody there now. My cousin’s son went back there two years ago to look around and there’s not one of our friends there, not one Aboriginal in the area that was there. They don’t know where they shifted them. We never heard nothing and they never heard about us.

“All the half-caste children were taken away at the time and sent to different missions. Some of them went to Barrambah (Cherbourg), Palm island, here. I was sent here to Yarrabah. My father was a white man and my mother was a dark woman, you see. They weren’t married. I didn’t know about marriage till I came to Yarrabah. They were good though.

They helped them and they helped us children too. They took us to Boulia now and again. The white men used to just come around. I was too young to know what was happening when they would come around to visit us. We didn’t go to the town part at Cloncurry. We would just stay down where the Aboriginal reserve was. We had tents and humpies, no houses.

“I never heard nothing about my mother from the day I was taken away, no more. But when I came to Yarrabah I was happy here and I never thought of it anymore. I did think of my mother, but I wouldn’t go back to see if she was there or anything like that.

When I came to Yarrabah we started going to school and at school we made mates, here and there, our own age. It was really good. We didn’t know how to talk much till we came here to Yarrabah. Till I came here, I didn’t know much. I didn’t know anything about the Lord. I’m a Christian now. I didn’t know nothing about it till I came to Yarrabah. That’s where we learned Christianity, at Yarrabah.

“My name was Daisy Sheridan. It was changed when I came here and was baptised. My godmother, Ciccy Thompson, gave me the name Roslyn Bell. Everyone who came here was baptised at St Alban’s Church. I knew that my name was Daisy, but that was all right. I had to change my name when I got married, to Choikee. Choikee is a traditional name of Aboriginal people around the Yarrabah area.

“The dormitory was really good. We had two matrons, Miss Ardley and Miss Newbury, when I first came. During the day we played. We never used to work much. Only we used to rake up, with our hands. We used to clean the yard, and when you grew up, coming on to full age, you did harder work. We went to school only up to grade five at that time. When we got to grade five we left school.

“Mr Dobar came up to Yarrabah one time. He was a white man who looked after the missions. He came to school and we had to stand up and spell ornithorhynchus (she spells it out) because he had left that with us to learn, and some didn’t know and some knew, and he say to them, ‘That’s a good girl’.

Ornithorhynchus is a platypus. My granddaughter who goes to school in Brisbane reckons they learned that ‘ornithorhynchus’ in grade eight, but we learned that ‘ornithorhychus’ in grade five. That was the last year that we were in school.

“After grade five we worked and did fancy work. We used to sew fancy work, crochet around. Miss Hogan used to send us a big box of clothes for us to sew and do fancy work on. They got us ready to be wives. We had to learn to cook, we had to learn to wash, we had to learn to iron. Miss Hahn, the matron, would send us back anything that had grease on it.

Boys went to school in the morning, the boys would go out one road down to church and we would go another road down to church. We didn’t go together all: we didn’t see each other. If we fell in love they’d come and talk to us in the yard, with matron. We’d get engaged then. That’s how I got engaged.”

How could you fall in love if you couldn’t talk to each other?

(She laughs.) “I don’t know. We’d look at each other in church and sometimes matron would see us. Oh she’d growl, ‘You mustn’t look over there where the boys are,’ she’d say. I didn’t care for boys while we were young, until we were going into the intermediate room, going onto thirteen and fourteen.

“My husband was Robert Choikee. He was one of the boys who came up and talked to us. They used to come up from the dormitory and sit on a big seat around the mango tree. There were about nine of us all sitting around, just yarning and having a joke of our own. That was all right.

We’d sit there and matron would be on the veranda sitting down and when it was time for them to go she’d blow a whistle and they’d go then. They weren’t there long. But we never met alone at any time until we got married. We weren’t allowed. We were told not to do it.

“There was a song that we would sing in the dormitory at night, ‘Oh where is my wandering boy tonight?’ That’s a Christian song. That was the Virgin Mary singing that time when Jesus was in the temple and she couldn’t find him. They wanted to go to Jerusalem but she couldn’t find him, so she sang that song and we learned it.

But Miss Hahn, our matron, though we were encouraging the boys around all the time. She would sing out, ‘Are you encouraging the boys again? Do you want the boys to sneak around?’ We’d stop that and start some other song, but if we went back to something to bring the boys back again, she’d start again. ‘Stop it now, stop it now, no encouraging the boys,’ she’d say. That was a good song.”