Introduction
This blog highlights a few stories of my journey
as a proud Aboriginal man. I love stories, stories are an important part of
Aboriginal life, passing down laws, knowledge and ensuring a spiritual and
physical connection to Gunni Thukkun (mother earth). I believe no one has the
right to dismiss your story, no story is wrong and every story is valuable. I
believe it is the recollection of lived experiences in which we can learn from. Sharing
my story is important. Everything I have learnt about culture has come from the
old people who have shared their stories with me, so it is important I
recognise my knowledge does not belong me, it is not mine to keep, only mine to
pass on. My old people are my greatest inspiration and one of the reasons why I
am proud to be Indigenous.
My spiritual and cultural learning is my most
prized gift, given to me by our old people on behalf of our ancestors. Learning
culture can be challenging and confusing; it takes time, dedication and being
open minded to a new way of thinking. It is important to show humility and be
prepared to see the world in a different way. A world with more meaningful
dialogue then the life you had before the journey began. It is not something I share
openly, its important to share, knowledge is only powerful when it is shared,
but its even more important to share it with the right people, don't devalue your
teachings by sharing it with people who will devalue it. If for some reason I
have shared my cultural experiences with you, or I've told you how my culture makes
me feel, it's a privilege, honestly, I trust you! To put it into perspective, I
have never shared my cultural experiences with my best friend of 26 years. Not
that I don't trust him, there is no one in this world I trust more. I just
believe he can ever understand this journey, not everyone can, and not everyone
needs to understand, so why dish it up to every person you meet? Particularly
if you believe it is your greatest gift. My cultural and spiritual connection
is something a majority of people will never understand, this includes both
Aboriginal and Non-Aboriginal people.
Growing
Up
What does being Aboriginal mean to me? My Aboriginality
has evolved since I was a child. Then as a teenager and now a man in the eyes of
my ancestors. My Aboriginality is like a book, the book has always in front of
me, I knew the title of the book, but only through opening the book and uncovering
the layer of pages can I learn what the book is about.
To be brutally honest, I was insecure about my Aboriginality
growing up; this lasted until my early 20's. As a child I seen the stereotypes
presented by mainstream society, the reinforcing that Aboriginal people were born
to fail, that a life of helplessness and despair was inevitable. I saw my
Aboriginality as a burden. I avoided topics around my identity, mainly because
I never totally understood Aboriginality beyond being dark skinned. So I
avoided it as much as I could. Just when I thought I had it figured out, I was
met with new challenges like racism as an example, things I didn’t have the
knowledge, confidence or self-esteem to deal with.
I was slowly making my journey bit by bit. It
started in my primary school years. As a young man I was slowly making a
connection to my identity and ancestors, I clearly looked Aboriginal, so that
was a start (no offense to fair skinned black fellas), I could build on that,
it was clear to others around me. I could connect with the other kids I knew
were Aboriginal. I was getting involved with traditional dance, learning to
play the didgeridoo, most of the stereotypical things white fellas see with our
mob. I was engaged in it, but was still struggling to understand it.
As a child I was apart of an Aboriginal dance
group. We travelled to schools far and wide performing, and our name was the
"Minimbah Dancers". I loved performing. There was a great demand for
us to perform; so this gave me the feeling of social acceptance. One instance I
remember dancing in a Newcastle Primary School (which I will remain unnamed).
It was another day in which we were excited to perform, after performing we
hopped back on the bus and went back to our school. Suddenly I could hear our
supervisor (Aunty Alma Denny) talking about accusations of a stolen wallet
being made against us. At the time it didn’t mean much, but a few weeks later
the Principal of that school visited and sat down with us in a circle. He
suddenly pulled out pictures of us performing that day and said "remember
this day, we had so much fun, thank you for performing". He continued to
talk and then apologised for what had happened that day, I was confused. The story
goes that a teacher had misplaced her wallet that day at school. Fingers were
quickly pointed to the group of Aboriginal kids that had entered the school to
perform. So it turns out, the teacher found her wallet, but it was to late,
the damaged had been done and accusations had been made. At the time I just
thought "a wallet, so what!' I was oblivious to the political
context at the time.
My
Great Grandmother
The day was the 13th February 2008. I had turned
up to my workplace, the RTA of NSW. Upon arriving, I was informed by my manager
that the RTA had graciously allowed each Aboriginal staff member the
opportunity to watch Kevin Rudds "National Apology".
My mum often told me about my Nan and her
siblings being taken away from her mum (my great grandmother). I vaguely
remember my great grandmother, we used to call her "Nan Toot", she
was beautiful and wise and she passed away when I was four years old. My mum
tells the story of when she passed; they put her coffin in the back of a
station wagon and drove her from Newcastle to Grafton (where she rests). All
the relatives had scraped together money for her funeral. It was a traumatising
situation for all my family at the time, particularly having a loved one pass
and not having the money to lay them to rest. Nan Toot had worked all her life
to provide for her family and she had nothing when she passed. All her money
was garnished under the government pretense of being put into trust fund, in
short she never seen a cent of her money. She passed away with only her pension
in her purse. When mum tells me the story of taking "Nan Toot" back
to Grafton, I would always cry, it made me sad. When I got older the sadness
turned to anger. Anger of knowing someone you loved was never treated with the
dignity or respect they deserved, as human beings we can accept bad things happening
to ourselves, but we can never accept bad things that happen to the people we
love. I would do anything to protect my family. The day of the "National
Apology" I was angry, sad and relieved. The reason I talk of my
great-grandmother is because during the apology all I could think of was her
image and the how she felt when losing her children. I tried as hard as I could
to contain my emotions in front of my work colleagues, I couldn’t hold it any
longer and the tears came, I cried uncontrollably and couldn’t stop, I couldn’t
remember the last time I cried. It took a few hours for me to compose myself
before I could start work. I knew deep down inside the treatment of my great
grandmother had left scars on the inside. I was and still am bitter to this day
for what happened to my great grandmother and my mob, I will never, EVER get
over the way my people were treated, despite the Warren Mundines of the world saying
we should forgive white fellas and Government. I am proof you can still hold a
grudge and be a productive member of the community. I often think of my great
grandmother when I'm alone, her struggle is a part of me and who I am, her
struggle inspires me to move forward and make my old people proud.
First
ever experience of traditional culture
When I was five I visited a special place; an
Aboriginal cave painting. It was a trip with a group of Aboriginal community
members who were part of a bus trip organised by the Awabakal Co-op (in
Newcastle). It was amazing! I had never
seen anything like it, EVER! I seen a man painted in a cave with long arms,
embracing the land, he was big, at least fifteen feet long, and beautiful. The
guide had told us his name was Biaime; he was our father, the creator of ever
thing. That day is still vivid in my memory, as if it were yesterday. I didn’t
understand much about the painting or the broader meaning at the time, but I
knew it was special and felt an instant connection. After visiting the cave I
would often wonder growing up where the cave was. I wanted to go back and visit
but could never remember getting there. Twenty-six years later I know my father
Biaime wanted me to come back and him visit him, learn my culture and take my
place in the world as an Aboriginal man. I just needed to find the right path
back to him.
Finding
'Ngrurranpah" (lore) and spirituality
In my early twenties, I started working at Hunter
TAFE in the Aboriginal Unit. It seemed like the perfect opportunity to learn
more about my culture and discover who I was, and hopefully one day reconnect
with the cave painting of Biaime. As part of my new role at TAFE I had connected
with a proud Aboriginal man. At the time I didn’t realise how this would change
my life. I was at the age in which I had a well-defined path, I was well educated
and had a great career. I excelled in sport and had a loyal group of friends
who I had known since high school, but I knew something was missing,
spiritually I felt like an empty shell.
During this time we were invited to an Aboriginal
men’s camp as part of a community gathering of men. The camp was held at Paynes
Crossing; fifteen minutes from the small settlement of Wollombi. At the camp we
sat and yarned. An old fella called Uncle Paul did a smoking ceremony, the
first time I was apart of a smoking ceremony since I was young. After the smoking ceremony Uncle Paul shared a ceremonial song, it was beautiful! We then visited
an Aboriginal site known as the map site. The engravings we visited were
amazing and Uncle Paul shared the stories behind them, I felt an instant
connection. I could not believe what I was learning, and couldn’t believe this
knowledge was still being passed down like the old times. We finished at the
map site and went back to the camp. At the camp we were yarning around the fire
with a cuppa and I mentioned to Uncle Paul how I visited cave painting of 'Biaime'
as a child with the Awabakal Co-op. Uncle Pauls eyes instantly lit up and told
me during his time as the cultural officer with the Awabakal Co-op he would
lead tours to the Biaime Cave, and he remembers my dad (Norman Brennan) and his
son (me) on one of those trips. It was though my path had come full circle and
it was finally making sense. Knowing Uncle Paul was the person that took us to
the Biaime Cave made me feel good inside, he was so calm and wise, you knew he
was a special old fella, but I couldn’t put my finger on it. He had a way of
explaining culture so that it made sense, even for beginners like myself. I
felt an instant connection with Uncle Paul. I told him I had always dreamt of
going back to the cave. Uncle Paul replied "let's go tomorrow morning,
it’s only a half hour drive from the camp". The next morning Uncle Paul
took us to the cave. Biaime was exactly as I remembered him; I remembered he
had long arms that encompassed the land and big eyes. Uncle Paul then proceeded
to talk about "lore" or the "Ngurranpah" (meaning the world
in which I live) and how it encompasses everything in our world, and that
Biaime had descended from the heavens and made love to "Gunni
Thukkun" (Mother Earth) and shaped the land, gave us our language,
stories, ceremonies, dance and everything we needed to live in peace with our mother
earth. Uncle Paul was impressed by my willingness to learn and invited me to
join him and other men to come "up bush" and learn more about "lore".
I took to culture like a duck to water, going bush gave me the opportunity to
learn about myself, and who I was. I learnt about my personality. Being in the
bush has a funny way of helping you learn about yourself. I learnt importantly
that I don’t talk a lot, and that I often need time on my own. I get my energy
and strength from deep thinking and particularly connecting with my ancestors
on my own. I learnt not spend too much time with people who talk a lot, and
more importantly spend time on my own, searching my own feelings and inner
thoughts.
Eight years later I owe everything to Uncle Paul,
he has taught and shown me things most people don't know exist in our day and
age. That the continuation of thousands of years of knowledge is being passed
on through ceremony and learning in New South Wales. My spirituality ensures I am strong, regular visits up bush and time on my own ensure ability to work
full-time, complete a law degree, work a 2nd job as a residential career,
volunteer at the local PCYC and help my community and own family
during my own time.
Corroboree:
My favorite time of year
Once a year we dance Corroboree, it’s my favorite
time of year. I am totally high on my culture and I am thoroughly in love with
it. The old ancestors are always with me when I dance Corroboree. During the
2013 Corroboree in Tamworth I remember practicing on the hot sand, it was so
hot we had to stop. When we finished I had five to seven painful blisters on
each foot. I was terrified of the thought of not dancing Corroboree; I waited
all year for it to take place. I didn’t think my feet wouldn’t allow me to
dance. I could hardly walk after practice, so a few hours before Corroboree I
went to the chemist, threw on some lotions and bandaged my feet. I could still
hardly walk. I hobbled to the dance "bora" (a circular ceremony
ground). I could hear Uncle Paul singing, the pain instantly went away. I
knew the old ancestors were there with me, easing my pain so that I could dance
in honor of "Gunni Thukkun" (Mother Earth), "Biaime"
(Father) and our old ancestors. I danced at least 30-40 dances that night. As
soon as the last dance finished, I collapsed to the ground in pain. Sand had
made its way into the blisters, it was miraculous I lasted to the end. Only
five minutes earlier I had been dancing and running around. I knew the old
people were with me helping me get through Corroboree, they gave me the
strength to dance. They know how much I love to dance, much love to my old
people for being with me that night.
The Biaime Cave I first visited when I was five years old.
My culture and its impact on my life
My culture and its impact on my life
I can honestly say that my culture saved my life.
For years I had a problem (one I'm still not ready to share, but will one day)
which lead to a downward spiral of no longer having control of my life. I was
always in control of my life, but couldn’t control this. Then by chance Uncle
Paul gave me a scenario and a lesson, he said it was part of my spiritual and
cultural learning. I knew the old people were trying to connect with me.
They told me it was time to move on to a new phase of my life. I knew what I
had to do; I would do anything for my old people. The teachings I learnt
through culture had enabled me to move on with a new phase of my life. It
changed my life instantly, which was a good thing, I was going down a road with
an undefined destination, it was like I was living two lives. I have never told
anyone about my problem, not even my family, I felt isolated, trapped and
alone, but I wasn’t alone as my ancestors were with me wherever I went,
they gave me the strength to get through that situation, they led me back on
the path in which I needed to be.
I love to learn, my culture has given me many
great lessons to bring back to the urban world. I love connecting with the
natural environment and fauna. I learn to love, to have humility, and the respect and
trust of others. I just love to sit and listen, not speaking a word; I
believe talking is highly overrated, and is best in small doses. These lessons
have translated across my life. Our culture and lore will survive; I know there
is a revolution happening. It will continue to thrive and grow stronger in an ever-growing
urban society. I have found a unique balance of being a man connected to the
'Ngurranpah' (lore), passing on its values and its ceremonies. On the flip side
I can just as easily throw on a business suit and live in the urban world; this
world is also part of my "Ngurranpah", it’s a meshing of two distinct
ways of thinking happening in the same world. I always believe I can learn,
especially our culture and lore, it is the most natural way of thinking for me.
I have found who I am and now can build on the foundations that the old people
have given me.
These are some of my key stories in my life, and
why I am proud to be Indigenous!!!