How I became a writer

by Rosemary Plummer Narrulu

I was born at Phillip Creek Mission (Mangka Manta). The people had to move from there in 1956 because the water had gone salty. The government forced them to go to Alekarenge, formerly Warrabri, 170 miles south of Tennant Creek. Now I've got five children. Fiona, the fourth child and my nieces and nephews always tease me and say, "You from Alekarenge; you Alekarenge woman." Anyway, that's where I grew up but my country is around Tennant Creek (Partta).
I am the eldest out of seven in the family. My mother she was a dedicated Christian. She grew up, little bit of it, at the mission. She was an ordinary mother like other mothers, you know, make sure we were clean, make sure we had food, make sure we had warm clothes when it was cold.
Yeah, she was just an ordinary mother but she still had her tradition. She wanted to grow me up the proper way, she was trying to balance in both ways. Like, to grow us up in that white fella sort of life, making sure I had a bath and women's stuff. Also, in that Aboriginal way, making sure all her children had our tradition. She could have taught me lots of things she knew. Mothers teach daughters about lots of things like, "Don't marry wrong skin, marry straight skin". Sadly she died when I was fourteen. I think my Mum was strict but humble too at the same time.
She had all her songs and dances (Yawulyu) from her grandmother. Her grandmother had the body painting, the song, yeah, and the dance itself. My mother got it from her. When she died, I missed out on some things. It was very sad but a lot of knowledge has been passed down by my Nanna's family. So, I had other family members to teach me not to do this, not to do that in our Aboriginal way (cultural rules).
When I was ten I saw the last dance (ceremony), and that was it. Next time I saw people dancing I was twenty seven years old. I cried and cried because it was the government policies of protection and assimilation that stopped people from doing ceremonies. They used to do the ceremony secretly to pass the knowledge on. What an era terrible! When we had those rights back in the seventies, for example, land rights, integration and self-determination, then Aboriginal (Wumpurrarni) people had their freedom again (equal rights).
In 1988 I helped run a cross-cultural program. For some reason I didn't want to talk about the Warumungu people and the sad things that had happened to them in the past I mean the violence between the tribes as well as what the white fellas did. I broke down and cried and cried during that cross-cultural program.
I wrote my first poem called 'Tribal Woman' (Voices From The Heart, IAD Collection). I cried and cried. I must have broken something there, I must have broken something inside. When I started writing everything was gone out, the anger inside was out. It brought back memories of my dear nanna, Buttercup Graham, and of my mother, May Plummer.
Another poem I wrote several years later, 'Long Ago', was for my great grandmother, my mother's grandmother, Minnie Napangarti. Through the poem, I got back with my nanna and my mother also. Really, the poem was for my great grandmother, she's the one that owned the body painting and dance.
When I was about seven, my great grandmother was trying to teach us the body painting, the dance and the song of Yawulyu. She painted us one day, me and a few other relatives. She told us, " You mob come from the bush". She was sitting there with other ladies, singing. There were other aunties, all the aunties - mothers in Aboriginal way. She was singing with the other relatives; she was trying to teach.
She couldn't pass that knowledge on because there was interference from the white education. A lot of us Aboriginal children, my generation, were sent to Kormilda College. That's why I wrote the poem 'Long Ago'.
'Black Mother' was my second poem after writing 'Tribal Woman'. That was for my daughter and at the same time thinking of my mother. Many times my daughter got into trouble and it sort of affected me. It was one of those silly things, you know how teenagers mix together and then start stealing. She was very naughty, breaking in and stealing. They wanted the same things as the white kids had.
It was very hard and that's the reason I wrote 'Black Mother'. My daughter didn't listen to me and I thought about my mother because I needed her help. She wasn't there and I was weeping for her to give me that hand.
A lot of our young people they don't know where they come from. Our Warumungu tribe has many clan groups but we follow our totem. My totem is the parrot (Jalajirrppa). So, different clan groups have different totems and the Warumungu people believe it was given. When the sun goes down we see the darkness and the redness in the eastern sky. We're divided into two groups for the colours in the sky, one for the red and one for the dark. It is important that the young people know that so they can keep it and pass it on to their children.
The young women don't want to know about the past. They like to live from today. They like white fellas ways. It won't make them strong because they've got to have their identity.
It is important that they learn. There are still strong women in their clan groups to teach them. Spiritual things make them strong, if they don't have them they are lost. It gives them strength. It's the spiritual contact with country that strengthens the body.
On last thing I would like to say, I thought I was worthless, I never had dreams of tomorrow. Writing has come to me from somewhere, somehow. That's how I became a writer.