 Poetry: November 05, 2008 Issue [#2695] |
  Poetry
This week: Edited by: larryp
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"We are not myths of the past, ruins in the jungle,
or zoos. We are people and we want to be respected,
not to be victims of intolerance and racism.
~~Rigoberta Menchu Tum |
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In 1838, near Myall Creek station in northern New South Wales, a group of white settlers, in act of brutality, killed twenty-eight Aboriginal men, women, and children. For fifty-one years, Pastoralists had pushed into Aboriginal land and dispossessed Indigenous people from their homelands, but the Aboriginal people did not give up easily, and many violent conflicts ensued resulting in the massacre of many of Australia’s Aboriginal people. Forming gangs, white stockman shot the Aboriginal men and raped their women on tactics called ‘the Big Bushwack,” a hunt to track down the Aboriginals and drive them from the lands. Unlike many previous massacres of the Aboriginals, the massacre at Myall Creek was well-documented and highly published. It was the first time the murderers of the indigenous people were brought to trial in Australia.
At Myall Creek station, the stockmen herded the Aborigines like cattle and tied them together with a long rope, turning deaf ears to crying children and pleas of mercy from the Aboriginal men and women.. The stockmen lead their captives near the huts of Myall Creek and brutally murdered them, mutilating their bodies in acts of atrocity that are too painful to mention here, where they may be read by children. The bodies of the Aborigines were burned as the stockman celebrated their terrible acts of dehumanization.
Ten stockmen were arrested and brought to court for the brutal murders and all were released, as innocent, because they had hid all the bodies of the defenseless Aborigines. Ten days later seven of the ten men were brought back to court for the murder of one child at Myall Creek, they were convicted and hanged in December of 1838, but the sentencing caused a great uproar among the white settlers. The following sentence was part of an article printed in the The Sydney Morning Herald during the second trial, “The whole gang of black animals are not worth the money the colonists will have to pay for printing the silly (court) documents.”
After the Myall Creek massacre murderous attacks on Aboriginal people continued on for many decades well into the 20th century. White people now went 'underground' using poisoned flour which was harder to prove in court. They also took greater care to conceal or destroy the corpses. Many massacres never became known outside the district where they occurred.
http://www.creativespirits.info/aboriginalculture/history/massacres-Myall-Creek-...
These incidents of violence against indigenous people were not isolated to Australia; many countries including the United States and South Africa treated indigenous people in similar ways, in inhumane acts of brutal violence. Many poets have sympathized with the indigenous people and expressed their plights in poetry. For exposing the treatment of Aborigines of Australia, Irish-born Eliza Hamilton Dunlop became a sympathetic voice. Unfortunately, her voice gathered only a small audience.
While modern writers have contributed to the voice of Australia’s Indigenous people, a few colonial poets in the nineteenth century also took a great deal of interest in their terrible treatment and gave the Aboriginal people a voice they would have not had otherwise. While the white society in general viewed the Aboriginal people as less than human, these poets portrayed them sympathetically, seeing them as gentle-spirited human beings. While her poetry has been charged with colonialism and cultural appropriation, Eliza Hamilton Dunlop allowed the Indigenous people of the nineteenth century a voice at a time when they were otherwise silenced.
Mrs. Dunlop took a great interest in the welfare and folk-lore of the Aboriginals in her husband's charge, and was one of the few people to appreciate the literary worth of Aboriginal songs and poetry. She won the confidence of the Aboriginal elders, particularly the chief Boni, and transliterated some of the verse of the poet Wullati into English… She also did valuable work in preserving Aboriginal vocabularies and was assisted by other members of her family, notably her daughter Rachael (1829-1908).
http://adbonline.anu.edu.au/biogs/A010321b.htm
Outraged by an excerpt from a newspaper report during the second trial of the Myall Creek murderers - 'Only one female and her child got away from us’ – Eliza Hamilton Dunlop wrote the poem “The Aboriginal Mother,” which was published in the Sydney Gazette on October 19, 1841, three years after the Myall Creek Massacre of 28 defenseless Aboriginal men, women, and children.
The Aboriginal Mother
by Eliza Hamilton Dunlop, 1838
Oh, hush thee, hush, my baby, I may not tend thee yet,
Our forest land is distant far, and midnight-star is set
Now hush thee, or the pale-faced men will hear thy piercing wail,
And what would then thy mother's tears or feeble strength avail.
. . . Nay, hush thee dear; for weary and faint I bear thee on
His name is on thy gentle lips; my child, my child he's gone!
Gone o'er the golden fields that lie beyond the rolling cloud,
To bring thy people's murder-cry before the Christian's God.
Yes, o'er the stars that guide us, he leads my slaughter'd boy,
To show their God how treacherously those stranger men destroy:
To tell of hands - the cruel bands - that piled the fatal pyre:
To show our blood on Myab's ridge, our bones on the stockman's fire.
Following is a song by Aboriginal poet Wullati, translated by Eliza Hamilton Dunlop. The song portrays the Indigenous people as happy children of nature, rather than the subhuman stigmatizations given them by the early white settlers in Australia.
Our home is the gibber-gunyah,
Where hill joins hill on high;
Where the turruma and berrambo,
Like sleeping serpents lie;
And the rushing of wings, as the wangas pass,
Sweeps the wallaby’s print from the glistening grass.
Ours are the makoro gliding,
Deep in the shady pool;
For our spear is sure, and the prey secure —
Kanin or the bright gherool.
Our lubras sleep by the bato clear,
That the Amygest’s track hath never been near.
Ours is the koolema flowing,
With the precious kirrika stored:
For fleet the foot, and keen the eye,
That seeks the nukkung’s hoard: —
And the glances are bright, and the footseteps are free,
When we dance in the shade of the karakun tree.
http://www.api-network.com/main/index.php?apply=scholars&webpage=default&flexedi...
As poets, we have an opportunity to expose the evils that mankind commits against one another, even when our poetry may express sentiments that run counter to the popular notions of the time. This is poetry that push-pulls the reader to experience rather than to teach, as Eliza Hamilton Dunlop accomplished in “The Aboriginal Mother.”
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Push-pull poetry from around Writing.com:
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Personal experience near woods: Cherokee Trail of Tears and the legend of their bent trees
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As a member of the poetry newsletter team, I would like to express my appreciation to each one of you who read the newsletter. It is our desire that your love for poetry continually grows as we water the garden with the newsletters.
larryp
I Love WDC! Cissy❤ 
[b}Thank you for yet another awesome news letter and as always very informative as each news letter that you write. I enjoy so much to read them because I know without a doubt that I will learn something new and read a masterpiece!
Cissy ~~ my adopted sister, your words are always encouraging and humbling. We are keeping you in our hearts until you return to us in good health.
very thankful
Silence in the Halls by aralls is a great poem. This member has other great works, too!
sister of mercy ~~ I met aralls when I hosted the Poetry Splasharama. She is indeed a talented poet. I recommend her port for some really good poetry. Thanks for taking time to honor another. It speaks of your character.
monty31802
Larry, just want to say I think you do a great job putting together a Newsletter  . R have I said that before?
Monty ~~ you are my greatest encourager for newsletters and yes you have said that before, but that's okay, for I never tire of hearing it.
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