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Wednesday, May 23, 2007

The Journey from '67: My mother told me a story

Mothers waiting for their children by Hazel Mackinnon
Stolen by Hazel MacKinnon

My Mother Told Me A Story

Many years ago my mother told me a story
a story about when she was a child
and it goes like this:
it was a cool sunny day
and all the coloured kids
were playing around in their way.
But coming in the distance my grandmother saw
white people
coming towards the station.

My mother told me this story
a story about when she was a child
growing up on the station -
my mother told me this story.
Some of the mothers started to run
and hide with their kids
down towards the waterhole in the bush -
but they took every half-caste kid in sight.
But my grandmother hid my mother
in an empty hay-sack bag.

My grandmother waited for the whites to go
but it was sadness that day
for the mothers of that land
'cause their children were taken away
from their dreaming and their culture.
This story makes me sad -
what my mother told me.
by Michael Fitz Jagamarra
published in
Voices from the Heart:
contemporary Aboriginal poetry from Central Australia
collected and edited by Roger Bennett
and published by
IAD Press, Alice Springs

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