Dreaming Walpiri (NAIDOC week)

 

6am Sunday – ABC Radio National – is part of my daily Bread….GOD FORBID   

Today is the beginning of NAIDOC week, celebrating National Aborigines and Islanders NAIDOC week   

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At the fore of my consciousness is our family’s tour of the Northern Territory to present husband Roy’s puppet show and puppet-making workshops.

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JABIRU SCHOOL learn why “Scraps” the backyard duck is a great recycler in MANY HAPPY RETURNS 1989

Real Fantasy Theatre, formerly Jika Jika Puppets was founded by Roy McNeill in 1981 North Fitzroy, Victoria. Touring was a big part of life as Puppeteers and so it became for our pre-school daughters and Spot the dog.

One tour stands out; a Northern Territory trip including a 2 week residency at  Lajamanu Primary School in June 1989.

 

 

LAJAMANU ARTISTS online

ABC RELIGION: NAIDOC WEEK worth listening to.

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TO BE AN AUSTRALIAN CITIZEN PILGRIM

If your ancestors were dispossessed, slaughtered and had their land and their children stolen, would you celebrate the date on which that all began?#changethedate

Another Australia Day 26th January long weekend. It was the arrival of the First Fleet of British convicts.  200+ years later I discover my ancient rights and liberties are thwarted by the Tories of today,(LNP) a  legacy of Westminster’s punitive policy against the disadvantaged.

Westminster rejected her base born, poverty stricken and protesting peasantry to the land Captain James Cooke had reported on in his scientific mission of 1770.

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JANUARY 2018 – 30 YEARS since my arrival as a teenager in 1978. The Ministers of the Commonwealth have as much disregard and resistance to redistribution of that Commonwealth to the poorest and sickest of it’s citizens, whilst declaring Jesus as their guiding Light!

You always know you’re in for a kicking when the politicians come out and reckon all dole recipients are bludgers and fraudsters. Nothing to do with the nuances of the individual or the economic failures of their policies.

Transfering the poor buggers to a lesser payment whilst they get a pay rise! The Audacity! Hang on isn’t this a worker’s Paradise? State and Citizen partners in the Commonwealth. A safety-net to stop anybody becoming destitute?

The News is, Australia has become more unequal by the incompetency and greedy self-interest of those with power and influence.

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One hundred years ago women met with State resistance for their right to vote and today I am punished for needing the safety net of a disability support pension: There must be many pensioners who have elderly or dying parents in their birth countries who they wish to visit – in the time that is needed, including funerals, but if I leave Australia, I will be paid for up to 28 days from the date I leave. I’m stunned really, my sense of autonomy as a 55year old Australian has been challenged:

If I’m still overseas after 28 days, payment stops.

Consider this my Parliamentary representatives: It would be fairer to consider it like a 3 months Long Service Leave for contributing to the culture, giving birth and creating daughters and now grandsons for the country!

My parents are in their end years and disabled by various health conditions. I could reasonably expect to be called to either of their funerals anytime. I have to be ready to return to my mother-land, like the First Peoples inner calling to Country.

I’m looking for my Australian Citizenship certificate so I can apply for a new Australian passport.  I must prove I am a BRITISH BORN AUSTRALIAN –  NOT UNDER SCRUTINY FOR MY DUAL LOYALTIES…..like our Parliamentary representatives!

 

I’ve been asked a handful of times if I would consider nominating for local government or Parliament. Like many British born emigrants being Australian sometimes I feel like a motherless child or like having  a left-over limb of your British Empire roast…

It’s inherited from your culture. It was common for family members or neighbours to go and live in Australia. Sometimes they went back like my mother and step-father.

We nearly emigrated in 1970, but my Dad pulled out the day before the Ship was booked. He couldn’t leave not sure of seeing his Mum and Dad, or the town of Selly Oak, he knew so well.Nan and Grandad.jpg

New South Wales was a potential Life-sentence!

It took mum a second marriage to return to the land of Oz. The first time had been torturous being kidnapped by a scheme set up to empty the orphanages after the war. Unfortunately, after 10years her husband  wanted to go back ‘home’, even though they had been better off economically i.e. good wages and conditions for their skills and experience in Birmingham, ‘the workshop of the world’!

My sisters and I knew which side of our sliced bread was buttered. Melbourne was our home Port, School and Work, but Mum was the holder of an invisible boomerang: kidnapped by Minister of Emigration for a white (Catholic) Australia in 1950, she returned at the request of a recently married Mother she had been told by the Sisters of Mercy was Dead.

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Birmingham Registry Office

There are many of us creating paper-work for the Public Servants gathering evidence of our Australian citizenship, but whereas Mum was punished by the British Government for being “illegitimate” I’m being punished for a chronic bi-polar/mental illness and the tyranny of distance!

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Apology to the Child Migrants like my Mum, an event at Qld Parliament.

Held hostage to this Government’s policy. 

I was spoon-fed a deep connection to Australia via my mother’s memories when she was transported to New South Wales, as a child migrant from the overwhelmed Orphanages in 1950.

MUM’S HERSTORY LINK: WHITE AUSTRALIA POLICY – CHILD MIGRATION

THE HUMANE APPROACH

A funny thing happened on my belated honeymoon to former pom, Yorkshire born Roy. It was 1984 at Denpasar Airport, Bali. An officer said we didn’t have a re-entry Visa so wouldn’t be able to get back into Australia!

But we ‘re Australians. We live there! My baby is going to be born at the Queen Vic birth centre in 4 months!

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The advice was to go to the Australian Embassy as soon as we settled into our hotel. A kindly official informed us she would issue a temporary visa but we would need an Australian passport with Australian Citizenship even if we had emigrated in 1964 and 1978 on a family passport.

The travel agent hadn’t told us we could be deported. Nobody told us we could be put in a detention centre, deported back to that cramped, grey Thatcherite, brittle society.

The Black Shirts of P.M. Abbott’s Border Force has come to pass, and his comrade Dutton, a Minister of Home Affairs resonating in black and white ideology.  

BLOODY OATH
Australian Citizenship but did I renounce my British citizenship? I can’t remember….

In my Dream, an Irish ancestor CATHERINE MURPHY told me,

 

THE ANSWER, IS AN AUSTRALIAN REPUBLIC – A NEW ANTHEM, NEW FLAG. I see it blowing in the wind… AND I added, Turn a new leaf on the recycled paper to compliment the Commonwealth with a Bill/Charter of Rights… 

Inscribe into the social safety net section, every person has the right to not be devalued by Parliamentarians.

Make the young people proud like they are in the Irish Republic, guiding the Australian tourists with Irish roots around the old Oppressor’s administration, Dublin Castle; and this is a portrait of our elected President….

In one night the solution rung true, to rescue our social democracy for our grandchildren’s fulfilment of their dreams – A decent income for your labours in a dream home with a pool in a sunny climate, and enough spare to use your 12 weeks long service leave to visit family and friends stuck in the Mother Country. It’s a basic desire. Natural to a migrant nation. Insc

 

 

 

 

 

 

Revised (c)copyright JMcNeill 2018 all rights reserved

 

 

POEM ON WAR & PEACE

5.30am foreboding in furry slippers,

signals war and peace; a Government’s

Good old cause;

before Dawn on winter morn,

Cars zoom past a once rural track,

Headlights beam early-shift alarms

Route to Amberley air-base, 

where powerful hornets are taking-off

on a mission.

 

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My brain provoked to write a chapter

Where ancient transport is your legs

Marching from one end of the fractured

Kingdom to another – carts carry pikes,

muskets and drums

to where cousins pitch battle

Across Crown lands with bibles 

in pockets.

 NMA

5.45a.m. before sun-rise, hearing

long steady jet bellows overhead,

Five orange lights flashing within moist 

Clouds; noisy machines controlled by

Young Pilots trained for flight in strict

Formation, a deadly force which can

Drop bombs from a great height. 

G20 HAMBURG Putin and Trump keeping the Peace…

 

Allied to mutual Destruction our warriors

May not realise their DNA origins were

Down there in the cradle of civilisation.

100 years ago Lawrence of Arabia had a

sense of being at Home there being a Hero “Scientifically shattering” many bridges.

t e lawrence

Legacy ; link to the Queensland Times report on why all the noise….

 

Lest we forget that Re-drawing of Middle Eastern

Maps in Westminster; war-weary forebears 

Came home to rationed hearths, arriving

as shells of former selves with

Little words left to review the theatre of 

War to the wife, perhaps a brief mention

you saw your German cousins shooting

Dutifully across the trenches,

when it was only a few Summers

since your families had picnics.

 

She said, ‘Men, God created them,

then He ordered an eternity of

Chains of command for times of

War and times of Peace.

 

Under the flight path,

my dwelling is a humble

Plot of Paradise, 

Natural light shows soft rain-fall

On freshly bought native grasses

Of Kangaroo Paw, Lomandra variations,

Paper Daisies.

I will grow beauty around me like

A garden in ancient Babylon, or a

Quaker’s conscience, echoing

Voltaire’s wisdom 

His pragmatic solution to never-

Ending scraps and weapons of

Mass destruction, to

Candidly get out of the

Arms race, the mad-made farce

And be happy hippies cultivating

The garden restoring an Eden on 

Earth with Mass plantings.

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by Edvard Munch

 

It is 7.00am It is Light, so is the

Bird song. I am grateful to be

reminded to buy a rain-water

storage tank, replenish the soil

with compost because

Mother Nature likes to be nourished

And I have been forewarned by Enlightened

Souls who study, to be prepared for

Global warming threat.

 

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EOFY 30/6/2017 link to Hornets story at QUEENSLAND TIMES

Peace Middle East

ARE YOU MY DADDY?

THE FACTS OF LIFE 
Ned Kelly
Ned Kelly in the Bush by Sidney Nolan

In Australia the immigrant Irish outlaw NED KELLY became a folk hero against the British Colonial administration. The standard bog-Irish prejudice transferred to the Colonies with it’s Protestant hierarchy. Sometimes you don’t even realise you are prejudiced until something switches the neuron lights on and one has a revelation.

For Fifty Years my husband had linked his paternal lineage to the Hero ROB ROY MCGREAGOR.

Quite logical for a young lad from Leeds called ROY, with a surname McNEILL…He must be more Scottish than Yorkshire. Our grandson runs around with his superhero cape on, his grandfather Roy, when a Yorkshire lad in the 1950’s collected comics and patiently waited for  the T.V. series.Poster_of_the_movie_Rob_Roy,_the_Highland_Rogue

Roy’s parents would have been encouraged he spent his pocket-money at Leeds markets, investing in the second-hand colour magazines, KNOWLEDGE of 1962 which grows into an encyclopaedia(and he hasn’t thrown them out yet)…

Being  a MOD at 14years, Roy fancied himself as a lover of  THE ENLIGHTENMENT which he learned from the Time-Life Books of 1966. The “Great Ages of Man” accompanied the Collier’s Encyclopaedia’s sold by a door-to-door salesman in his new landscape of Highett in suburban Melbourne.

When I met Roy and became a McNeill one habit I learned to love was listening to the ABCScience show at midday every Saturday(and for the next 32 years!)

With the advent of the DNA science it was a chance to confirm what he had always imagined. When he got the results from a sample of his Y-DNA it was not the Scottish hero ROB ROY MacGREGOR who was his direct ancestor but the Irish War-Lord Niall of the Nine Hostages!

 whats in a name

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Link to UI NIALL  The legendary Great Grand Daddy of Celtic lore.Spreading the seed story!

If it wasn’t enough to know you received a Y chromosome from the pagan High King Niall who kidnapped St. Patrick as a boy thus triggering the motivation to convert the Irish to Christianity, the story has leaped into my imagination via a Spanish/Portugese migratory path.

“Galicia, northern Spain, ‘the land of a thousand rivers’, is famous for the ‘city of glass’, La Coruna, the treacherous shipwrecked coast Costa de la Muerte (the Coast of Death) and its unmistakably Celtic roots.

Due to centuries of shared fishing traditions and cross-emigration, Galicia has developed a unique culture, but one that is profoundly influenced and inspired by Ireland.

The region boasts a folk music tradition with tin whistles, fiddles and bagpipes, a form of traditional dancing and a similarly rich literary and folkloric history. In return Galicia has provided Ireland with one of its most potent symbols.

Five hundred years before the birth of Christ the Galician King of Spain Milesius sent his three sons, Ir, Heber and Heremon, to invade and conquer Ireland – promising the island to the first of the siblings to touch its soil.

As the legend goes, each of the parties raced towards the shore and one of the sons cut off his own hand with a sword and throwing it onto dry land so that he could lay claim to the country. The soil was Ulster, and the Red Hand has persisted ever since.

Due to the Irish oral tradition of storytelling, there are many variations of this tale. In some accounts the invaders are Vikings, returning Irish mercenaries or Scottish clansmen. One even attributes the symbol to battle-wounds received when two giants brutally fought each other across the mountains and valleys of the North.

Debate around its precise origins must be tempered by the recognition that the tale is likely apocryphal and of little factual historical basis. The Red Hand symbol is older than, and as universal as, civilisation itself, continually recurring in aboriginal art, Native American engravings right back to the cave paintings of Cro-Magnon humans”.

Distant Celtic Grandparental via Y- DNA  – Earls of Tyrone McNeills/Ui Niall v the British Government 17th century.

 

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