Cobby Eckermann - Too afraid to cry: memoir of a stolen childhood

Too Afraid to Cry

Memoir of a Stolen Childhood

Ali Cobby Eckermann

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Copyright 2012 by Ali Cobby Eckermann

First American Edition 2018

All rights reserved

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.

this is a poetic memoir

a story of healing

not burdened by blame

for the adopted children

Christopher, James, and Karen,

and especially Jonnie

The actual events of this memoir are a true account of my life. The Stolen Generations story is replicated by thousands of survivors across Australia. For this reason, some of the names of persons and locations have been modified, in an attempt to share my emotional healing with my Stolen Generations brothers and sisters, and the reader.

You look at me and do not see

And you shame me

And I shame myself

Because I am not nowhere

I am everywhere in my belonging

I am still here

Samia Goudie I Am Here 2011

Bundjalung

Acknowledgements

This manuscript resulted from a mentorship through the Australian Society of Authors in 2006, with Palawa writer Dr Terry Whitebeach as my mentor. Terry was my lecturer at the BIITE Creative Writing course in 2001. She remains a strong mentor and special friend to me, and I credit my early career to her guidance. The love and friendship shown to me by the Titjikala community, where I was Art Centre Manager between 2006 and 2008, provided the safety net to write this memoir. My thanks also go to to my friends in Alice Springs, Harold Furber, Kate Lawrence, Katie Allen, Sue Dugdale, and Jeremy Drew, who shared their campfires, hearts, and homes during the process of editing. And I am grateful to my special friend, Lionel Fogarty, who kindly encouraged the poetic licence of this story and always believed in me as a storyteller.

Part One

a fading sky

Elfin

An unknown woman

wove song

in my heart

Chorus that came

grew loud with

a magpie morning

An owl flew free

the doll grew new

fingers and shiny eyes

Part Two

rhubarb pie

Part Three

bindi eye

Part Four

no longer shy

About the Author

Ali Cobby Eckermann enjoyed great success with her first collection of poetry, little bit long time, which was followed by Kami and Love Dreaming and Other Poems, published by Vagabond Press, and more recently, Inside My Mother, published by Giramondo.

Her first verse novel, His Fathers Eyes, was published in 2011 by Oxford University Press. Ruby Moonlight, her second verse novel, won the 2013 NSW Premiers Literary Award for Poetry and the 2013 Book of the Year Award.

Alis writing reflects her journey to reconnect with her Yankunytjatjara / Kokatha family. Her much anticipated memoir, Too Afraid to Cry , was awarded the Tangkanungku Pintyanthi Fellowship at the 2016 Adelaide Festival Awards for Literature . Too Afraid to Cry has also been published in India, where Ali delivered the 2015 Navayana Annual Lecture in Delhi.

One

When Aunty went to sleep, Uncle would sit next to me and rub my chest. I think he was looking for my bosoms. Fat chance! I was only seven years old and hadnt grown mine yet.

I sort of minded, and sort of didnt. Aunty and Uncle used to buy me lots of nice things, clothes and books and jewellery, that made me feel like a grown-up. They even let me get my ears pierced! And at night-time I was allowed to stay up and watch TV till really late. Aunty always went to bed before me.

They lived in the city. They werent really our family; we called them aunty and uncle because we were told to. They used to visit us on the farm sometimes, and were friends of my foster brothers real parents. Sometimes Big Brother and I stayed with Grandma and Grandpa who also had a farm like us. But we only stayed with them for weekends because they were old.

The first time I had been away from my family by myself was because Mum was going in to hospital. All us kids had to stay several weeks with different family members and friends. Mum and Dad had told me she was getting the bad veins on her legs stripped with a bottle brush. I hoped the purple worms that lived under the skin on her legs would be gone too. I wanted her to have long, smooth, brown legs like mine. Uncle used to tell me I had lovely legs. His legs were short and hairy.

One night after I had been there for a few days Uncle was different. His face was different, and I felt a bit scared. Aunty went to bed earlier than usual, and she forgot to say goodnight to me. When he sat down, he started rubbing my legs. I felt the icy wind inside my head begin to blow. I could not move. The icy wind is very dangerous.

Uncle started to kiss me. His chin was all scratchy from not shaving. It felt funny, and I felt like laughing. But when he pushed his tongue down into my throat I screamed. No noise could come out, and I couldnt breathe. He had put his body on top of mine, and I couldnt move. And the icy wind was screeching around and around inside my whole body. Ice cold tears forced their way out of my eyes down my cheeks.

It took Uncle a long time before he noticed I was crying. He looked into my eyes, and he looked surprised. Then we couldnt look at each other anymore. He put a blanket around me and went to bed.

I just stayed in one spot for ages. Then I sat in the lounge chair and tried to watch TV. I didnt feel like a grown-up any more. I felt like a little girl who just wanted their mummy. But my mum was in hospital. I watched the TV screen for a long time.