Lawrence Bamblett - Our Stories Are Our Survival

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Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people are advised that this publication contains names and images of people who have passed away.

First published in 2013 by Aboriginal Studies Press

Lawrence Bamblett 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its education purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.

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Phone: (61 2) 6246 1183
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National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry

Author: Bamblett, Lawrence

Title: Our stories are our survival/Lawrence Bamblett

ISBN: 9781922059222 (pbk.)

ISBN: 9781922059239 (ebook: pdf)

ISBN: 9781922059246 (ebook: epub)

ISBN: 9781922059253 (ebook: Kindle)

Notes: Includes bibliographical references and index.

Subjects: Wiradjuri (Australian people). Aboriginal Australians. Sports.

Dewey Number: 994.0049915

Printed in Australia by Opus Print Group

Front cover: Wiradjuri country, photograph by Rachel Ippoliti.

Back cover: The Erambie Allblacks (authors collection).

Cover design by Greg Nelson, Upside Creative

Text design and typesetting by Greg Nelson, Upside Creative

This project has been assisted by the Australian Government through the Australia Council, its arts funding and advisory body.

One yard = 0.9144 metres

One Australian pound (currency) = $AUD1

One Australian shilling (currency) = 10 cents

Five bob = 5 shillings

Currency not adjusted to todays value.

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June Murray sharing stories at Erambie, July 2011. (Authors collection)

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Erambie people are fearless, loud and generous. This book is dedicated to one of them. I only know my grandmother, Rebecca Bamblett, through the oral history of our community. I have been told: Your Grandmother would die at anyones feet. She was never afraid of anyone. I am thankful that my grandmothers generation possessed the strength, not only to resist unwelcomed intrusions on their lives, but to carry on our ways as they lived them. This book is for my Nan, she sounds like my kind of person.

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Note about the figures: Most of the photographs sourced by the author are old. Although theyare treasured possessions, they are scanned copies of a long gone original where no negatives areavailable. There is some degree of wear and tear.

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I am grateful to the people of Erambie. They have all contributed to this book in some way. Without the constant support and efforts of my parents, Mavis and Brian, my sister Caroline, Millie and Sylvia Ingram, Josie Ingram, June and Margaret Murray, the extraordinarily talented Jean and Joyce Merritt, as well as two of my idols Jim Murray and Roy Carroll, this book would not have been possible. They taught me about Wiradjuri excellence. I hope the stories I tell will in some small way ensure that they will never be forgotten. Some of the documentary research about Erambie was completed during my studies at Charles Sturt University. I thank the staff there for supporting my work. This book was written during a research fellowship at the Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies (AIATSIS). I am grateful to AIATSIS for its commitment to community engagement and for supporting my unconventional approach to an academic research fellowship.

I want to thank the people who critically read the manuscript. Thanks to Rhonda Black and Rachel Ippoliti at Aboriginal Studies Press for their encouragement and support. Thanks to the judges of the Stanner Award for their kind words. The book is better thanks to Margaret McDonells input.

Finally, my family, Beatrice and the little people, indulge my single-minded obsession with the history of Erambie. I thank them for their patience. x

Introduction:

By the fires, the Old Men told the tales which held their listeners spell-bound. (Ingamells 1951: 175)

Kooris come back to this place all the time. The older people talk about it. Whenever someone returns to live at Erambie they typically explain it by the saying, once you drink from the Lachlan River, where the snakes grow bigger, you always come back to the Lachlan River. But he was different from all the others who come home. He re-energised an ancient oral history tradition.

It was the mid 1980s when he packed up and came home to live at Erambie. I first noticed he was home when I found an impressive motorcar and caravan in the community park near the entrance to the mission. A closer look revealed a campsite where he moved about, stoked a fire, and prepared a cup of tea. He was a big white-haired man with enormous fists and forearms. He wore the white cowboy hat, a plain white western shirt, blue jeans with a belt buckle and riding boots familiar to him from his days as a drover. Gday mate, he said, with a hold on the may in mate that lasted a while and showed that he meant it. I smiled without replying and hung around his camp and watched him go about his daily routine. He sang to himself, mostly in English, as he worked, but when he noticed I was watching he sang using Koori words. Uncle Geebung used to talk in the lingo, he recalled, when the manager wasnt around. Aw, gday mate, how ya been? he said, and I looked up to see a visitor had come over from the mission. He gave his mates hand a shake and they sat down for a drink of tea and a yarn. That was the first day I remember watching the Storyteller.

As I listened to the two old mates tell tales of what theyd been up to, I went through what I knew about him in my head. I knew he had been a professional boxer who fought in boxing tents and that he had seen his name in lights at the famous Sydney Stadium. People on the mission said that he was the first registered Koori boxing trainer and that he once owned a gym in Sydney. They reckoned he trained the champion Tony Mundine, and I had heard that his nephew and son were champion fighters. I knew that he worked for Koori organisations in Sydney because I heard Mum talking about it. Now I knew that he was retiring to Erambie because he told his mate, who replied, I heard you was coming home.

It wasnt long before he moved into a tidy little house at the back of the mission. As he settled back into life there he encouraged people to share their stories. He was always saying that he grew up on Erambie when games, music and storytelling were the only entertainment on the mission. His daily routine was scheduled around visits with other residents. They yarned for hours and drank tea. His company was anticipated and I often heard people say, hell be along for a yarn in a minute. Sometimes he rode his horse Champ but usually he marched, shadow boxing around the mission with a high step, whistling and singing a tune as he looked for a mate to have a yarn with. When he approached our house he would call out, ya there mate? and he invited us to sit out here with me and have a yarn. His yarns were more performance than conversation. Still, in me he always found a willing mate. He was a charismatic and skilful spinner of yarns who had a gift for storytelling.