120 Kevin Rudd is a good man
Good evening loved ones. I hope you are enjoying your snow, as I am enjoying the first hints of autumn. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, surely because I am so desperate for cold that I have turned winter into paradise. I get giddy with excitement on a chilly morning, telling Jacinta that soon it will be winter and how wonderful it will be. It is still months away. She may not agree, especially as this will be our first winter in the new house, full of large windows and space heaters. The worst case scenario in winter here is that you stay outside all day because it is warmer outside than inside, and come inside when the sun goes down and crank up the heat, whether you use a wood fire or space heaters. It has been a cool summer in any case, with more rain than this area has had in a long while. The girls and I actually went to the beach one afternoon and got so cold we had to leave early. Although the rain seems to be lightening up, it showers at least once a day now. Given the heavy rainfall, the rivers have had makeovers. The river in which we were swimming was dark brown due to Tea Tree in the water, or so I heard from other beachgoers.
More exciting than the coming of autumn this week was our new Prime Minister’s apology to the Aboriginal Elders who suffered beyond belief due to governmental policies in the earlier part of the twentieth century. On behalf of the Australian Government, Kevin Rudd apologized to the Stolen Generation. Keith’s mum is part of the Stolen Generation and is over 90 years old. As a child, she was taken from her father and placed in care of white people. She then grew up on a mission, bringing up all 14 of her children on church land to be “watched over” by the church officials. Keith grew up on this mission out in Moree. His mum just found out her age and origins a few years ago, living over 90 years never knowing from where or who she came. The government did this both to “save” the poor “uncivilized” Aboriginal children and to systematically wash away Aboriginal culture and all physical traits of the once proud people.
Our Prime Minister laid it all out, the nasty truth about the atrocities committed against the original inhabitants of this land in the very recent past. The apology was highly debated for a long time. The Labour Party is now in power and has jumped right into reconciliation. The apology was said in Parliament in the presence of over a hundred Aboriginal Elders in the room and thousands of Aboriginal people outside Parliament celebrating. It was aired on public television for all to hear and join in. Many white people have trouble with the idea of intergenerational responsibility. They don’t believe that we should feel any guilt for the errors of our ancestors. Guilt is not the answer, but surely public recognition that this was wrong, very recent and that white people have benefited by their government ordained superiority. In some remote areas of Australia these policies were still in use in the 1970s, shocking. This apology was very emotional for everyone, bringing up a shameful piece of history. Rudd finished off his speech with hopes and plans for reconciliation. What can “sorry” do? The pain and suffering endured will never disappear, but the wound would need to be cleaned. Policies for equality came along after the end of the Removal policy, but the wound was still dirty, covered in disrespect and complacent acceptance of past atrocities. For many years the scab has been stuck there, filled with dirt and infection. This gives us hope for a new beginning. The wound seems to be cleaner and may begin to heal now. The Prime Minister’s words were cheered on by the Aboriginal community inside and outside Parliament.
Brendan Nelson, the opposition leader then spoke for another thirty minutes. I found his words condescending, depressing, and seemingly inappropriate. Nelson mentioned the good intentions of the government and the church. It was government policy to find children living with their aboriginal parents, tear them out of their mothers and fathers’ arms, transport them long distances and place them in the care of white, Christian people in order to put and end to Aboriginal culture. He found one case of an Aboriginal girl who was actually thankful she had been ripped out of her parents’ arms and tell that story on this occasion. On this day, he also felt the need to point out all of the failing aspects of modern Aboriginal culture in many communities: alcoholism, under-education, sexual abuse and contented unemployment. These are real issues that need addressing, no doubt. But this was not the day to discuss the very same issues that come up every time the Government works on Aboriginal Affairs. This was a new day. After ignoring its complicity in creating problems in aboriginal communities for so long, the government was finally owning up to its errors. Nelson turned tears of joy and relief on the Elder’s faces inside the Parliament assembly into tears of shame and anger. Matt, Keith and I sat transfixed for an hour listening drop-jawed, thrown from one end of the emotional spectrum to another, wishing we had gone to Canberra to participate. Although we can’t explain the situation to the girls, Jacinta and Genevieve somehow felt the importance of this hour and entertained themselves rather well. We can only hope that history will forget the second speech and that all Australians will run on the positive energy laid out by our Prime Minister and begin to heal each other.
We were lucky to be with Keith on this day. It would surely have been hard for him to listen to the past rehashed by the very organization that caused it all. His mum was on his mind, thinking of her with each gruesome story. It was especially hard for him to watch the face of the elders, their tears, knowing the memories this was bringing back. It was strange for me being a complete outsider, neither white Australian nor Aboriginal Australian. Of course I put myself in the white colonizer category since I come from another country that trashed the natives and established white rule. I feel no better or worse for not being Australian, just uninvolved, harmless, a bystander.
I feel somewhat similar regarding the upcoming American elections being so far away. Matt keeps me up on Clinton and Obama. The coverage on US elections in Australian news is quite impressive, but I long to feel the political excitement back home. Matt and I will both vote absentee next November, but the energy for change in the air and the never-ending lead up are things I will miss. I am lucky to have you all to share your energy for the elections with me from afar. I’d love to hear any insights, fears, or hopes you may have for the candidates.
How to move on from such grand schemes to life here on Coronation Road? Well, speaking of governments, after four years of intermittent efforts to recuperate money from a tax error I made in Michigan, this week I was told I could expect a refund in the mail!!! What a shock, a relief. Another nice surprise this week was that my nephew Kai said my name! We are so far apart, yet Lecia and Ben have made me present in his life. He said Jess and Evie’s names too, and made me cry. I am far from many people I love, this is a choice I have made. I do not regret it, but it is harder some days. I can not help being far from my friend Khady in France whom I saw last about four years ago in Paris. But this week I was able to bridge the distance through a piece she wrote for Matt’s book. What an honour to translate Khady’s words, to learn how much her worldview has changed through life in Europe. I suppose our worldviews are all in a constant state of evolution, if we open ourselves to change.
I find vulnerability opens up doors to learning. Before children, I preferred solo travel because this vulnerability made it easier to meet people and soak up the culture. It was lonely at times, but most often my solitude brought me friends I would not have known had I been travelling with company. In the end, the solitude and the never-ending search for the “right way” to live brought me home ready to start my own family with Matt. I think I finally found what I sought: the courage to take all I’d learned in my life and travels and take a stab at family life. Voila Jacinta nine months later. My worldview has drastically changed in the past few years, partly due to my new geographical location, age and because of my new role in life: mother.
Mothering this week has been humorous, energizing, trying, and gratifying all at once. Jacinta and I made Valentines (which aren’t such an Aussie thing) and even made Valentines shortbread cookies. Genevieve and I played games with cups, baskets and balls and giggled a lot. Jacinta tinkered on the piano, danced around joyously, painted big pictures, wrote her name for the first time, played with and hid from her little sister and did some cooking in her cubbyhouse. Evie loves to pull down and tip out anything her big sister is cooking and is not phased by Jacinta’s gruff voice and scolding. After she’s had enough of this, and has tried out the swings, the see-saw and the slide, she crawls away from the safe cubby house world to roam the grassy hill. She coyly and very quickly crawls/walks down the hill with a knowing smile, assuming I’m following behind chasing her. I think it’s both a game to see how far away she can escape and a desire to play with mud and grass. Genevieve also found a new pastime in “shopping,” filling her purse with little things around the house.
To balance out the week, Jacinta sulked, had a few tantrums, screamed at the top of her lungs for slight bumps and scrapes and fought long and hard to be in charge. Genevieve too is learning to scream to get attention and will stop and smile as soon as she is up in arms or you have given her what she was pursuing. She is either teething or pretending to be in order to make it into our bed in the middle of the night. Jacinta sang her little heart out in choir, standing up and reading her “music” (pictures) like a big girl. She made it through another full day at preschool, with a few tears but nothing drastic. She skipped around happily in dance class, and tapped loudly with her new tap shoes (given to her by another mum one minute before class began). With her newfound speed, Genevieve successfully broke into the dance studio a few times. First she was content to marvel at the beautiful sight, then to bounce to the music, finally breaking away to run across the floor and try to catch Jacinta. It’s all starting: little sister following big sister.
Coincidentally, my friend Anissa happens to have been a gymnast also so we are starting to teach our girls gymnastics. Jacinta and Lily were giddy to do this together and to have their mothers’ attention, but had a hard time accepting our advice. Both girls stubbornly refused their own mothers’ advice and went to the other mother to follow the very same advice because it was not their mum teaching. This would be the reason my mom sent me to another piano teacher to have lessons. Genevieve and little Henry (11 months) participated by plopping themselves in the middle of the mattress just to smile, be cute and try to imitate the girls. Jacinta has taken to reading us stories at night, simple stories that she has memorized. She has not yet showed her hard-headedness with reading, obviously because it is still a complete mystery to her.
Predators and prey are another mystery to our big girl. She has been watching National Geographic videos about dolphins, crocodiles, polar bears, sharks and chimpanzees. They are well done, in that they don’t harp on the kill but show only what is necessary. The other day she asked why we don’t eat our roosters, because some of her friends do. She eats ham on occasion now and loves it. The other day she was playing with a plastic pig and a finger puppet of a little girl and said, “She is killing the pig because she wants to eat ham for dinner.” She had the little girl jump on the pig a few times and then it was dinner time. It was a bit strange coming out of my girl’s imagination but I suppose she’s coming to terms with wanting to eat meat and the reality of how it gets to her plate. Jacinta says she has bad dreams some nights, usually about foxes. It makes Matt and I sad to contemplate her fear in the night, but I guess it’s a part of life. At least she’s not fearing kidnappers, my most vivid childhood nightmares.
The other night she and Genevieve joined Matt and I in our evening after failing to fall asleep. Jacinta lay on the couch listening to Alison Kraus on the stereo, asking questions every few minutes. Genevieve was just doing her normal kitchen circuit. At one point Jacinta said, smitten, “Oh, this lady sings so pretty.” She asked to play one song over and over until she realized they all sounded just as beautiful. Matt took out her guitar and restrung it. Knowing this was stolen time, she shyly asked permission to come and watch. She marvelled at how dark it was outside, and curiously asked if this is what we did every night while she was sleeping. Of course they both eventually went to sleep. The funny thing is that rather than begrudging them for stealing our alone time I enjoyed the feel of the night with our whole family together. It brought me back to when I was a little girl. I loved the evenings after dinner with my dad home from work, playing games, baking, playing music, watching movies all together until bedtime. I won’t deny that I also love the rare chance when the girls are asleep before dark and I get out in the garden. Matt keeps me up on the moon planting guide, always letting me know when it is the right time to plant. Lately I’ve been resisting the urge, but one night this week I planted some lettuce, spinach, broccoli and purslane. I even transplanted a passionfruit vine that had been sitting in a pot for six months, somehow still alive. Matt just finished playing his guitar on the veranda in the moonlight. Evenings are peaceful no matter what, perhaps the sun resting sets the vibe. I say this with Evie sitting at my feet playing with a tissue box at 11:25pm after waking three times this evening. Hmm….
By day Matt kept busy as usual this week doing a wide array of jobs. He worked on a few broken lawn mowers with Keith, completed another subject for his counselling course, filled out some more depressing job applications, and began work on our camp’s website. The sadness in filling out long job applications lies in the knowledge that after trying to convince the employer that he possesses the appropriate skills and would put his heart into the position, they probably won’t call him or even read it all because he has no connections. On a more positive note, we all put in a good day of labour on the chicken pen today. In between digging post holes and tearing down the old sheet metal walls, Matt began cleaning out his tool shed. Originally Blessed is still coming along. Matt did another phone interview regarding a work of art in the book, some editing, and some work on the front cover and the layout. He sends out a weekly reflection to those involved or just interested. So if you would like to be included, let him know. There is also a new movie on our website for you. Just click on VIDEOS on www.paintedguitar.com to see how the girls are growing.
Given the slumping economy, our new prime minister’s energy and the United States’ hope for a better political situation, the future can only be brighter. In a relative scheme, we’re pretty lucky whether or not we have jobs at the moment. What a blessing that the hardest part about unemployment here is the mental energy it requires to make it through the day. Obviously we’d be contemplating a move had we not the means to feed or house ourselves. I now understand that “living in the country” is a privilege that only some people can enjoy, given the difficulty to make a living out here. We still relish this privilege. I hope you are all well dear ones.
Peace,
Shana
More exciting than the coming of autumn this week was our new Prime Minister’s apology to the Aboriginal Elders who suffered beyond belief due to governmental policies in the earlier part of the twentieth century. On behalf of the Australian Government, Kevin Rudd apologized to the Stolen Generation. Keith’s mum is part of the Stolen Generation and is over 90 years old. As a child, she was taken from her father and placed in care of white people. She then grew up on a mission, bringing up all 14 of her children on church land to be “watched over” by the church officials. Keith grew up on this mission out in Moree. His mum just found out her age and origins a few years ago, living over 90 years never knowing from where or who she came. The government did this both to “save” the poor “uncivilized” Aboriginal children and to systematically wash away Aboriginal culture and all physical traits of the once proud people.
Our Prime Minister laid it all out, the nasty truth about the atrocities committed against the original inhabitants of this land in the very recent past. The apology was highly debated for a long time. The Labour Party is now in power and has jumped right into reconciliation. The apology was said in Parliament in the presence of over a hundred Aboriginal Elders in the room and thousands of Aboriginal people outside Parliament celebrating. It was aired on public television for all to hear and join in. Many white people have trouble with the idea of intergenerational responsibility. They don’t believe that we should feel any guilt for the errors of our ancestors. Guilt is not the answer, but surely public recognition that this was wrong, very recent and that white people have benefited by their government ordained superiority. In some remote areas of Australia these policies were still in use in the 1970s, shocking. This apology was very emotional for everyone, bringing up a shameful piece of history. Rudd finished off his speech with hopes and plans for reconciliation. What can “sorry” do? The pain and suffering endured will never disappear, but the wound would need to be cleaned. Policies for equality came along after the end of the Removal policy, but the wound was still dirty, covered in disrespect and complacent acceptance of past atrocities. For many years the scab has been stuck there, filled with dirt and infection. This gives us hope for a new beginning. The wound seems to be cleaner and may begin to heal now. The Prime Minister’s words were cheered on by the Aboriginal community inside and outside Parliament.
Brendan Nelson, the opposition leader then spoke for another thirty minutes. I found his words condescending, depressing, and seemingly inappropriate. Nelson mentioned the good intentions of the government and the church. It was government policy to find children living with their aboriginal parents, tear them out of their mothers and fathers’ arms, transport them long distances and place them in the care of white, Christian people in order to put and end to Aboriginal culture. He found one case of an Aboriginal girl who was actually thankful she had been ripped out of her parents’ arms and tell that story on this occasion. On this day, he also felt the need to point out all of the failing aspects of modern Aboriginal culture in many communities: alcoholism, under-education, sexual abuse and contented unemployment. These are real issues that need addressing, no doubt. But this was not the day to discuss the very same issues that come up every time the Government works on Aboriginal Affairs. This was a new day. After ignoring its complicity in creating problems in aboriginal communities for so long, the government was finally owning up to its errors. Nelson turned tears of joy and relief on the Elder’s faces inside the Parliament assembly into tears of shame and anger. Matt, Keith and I sat transfixed for an hour listening drop-jawed, thrown from one end of the emotional spectrum to another, wishing we had gone to Canberra to participate. Although we can’t explain the situation to the girls, Jacinta and Genevieve somehow felt the importance of this hour and entertained themselves rather well. We can only hope that history will forget the second speech and that all Australians will run on the positive energy laid out by our Prime Minister and begin to heal each other.
We were lucky to be with Keith on this day. It would surely have been hard for him to listen to the past rehashed by the very organization that caused it all. His mum was on his mind, thinking of her with each gruesome story. It was especially hard for him to watch the face of the elders, their tears, knowing the memories this was bringing back. It was strange for me being a complete outsider, neither white Australian nor Aboriginal Australian. Of course I put myself in the white colonizer category since I come from another country that trashed the natives and established white rule. I feel no better or worse for not being Australian, just uninvolved, harmless, a bystander.
I feel somewhat similar regarding the upcoming American elections being so far away. Matt keeps me up on Clinton and Obama. The coverage on US elections in Australian news is quite impressive, but I long to feel the political excitement back home. Matt and I will both vote absentee next November, but the energy for change in the air and the never-ending lead up are things I will miss. I am lucky to have you all to share your energy for the elections with me from afar. I’d love to hear any insights, fears, or hopes you may have for the candidates.
How to move on from such grand schemes to life here on Coronation Road? Well, speaking of governments, after four years of intermittent efforts to recuperate money from a tax error I made in Michigan, this week I was told I could expect a refund in the mail!!! What a shock, a relief. Another nice surprise this week was that my nephew Kai said my name! We are so far apart, yet Lecia and Ben have made me present in his life. He said Jess and Evie’s names too, and made me cry. I am far from many people I love, this is a choice I have made. I do not regret it, but it is harder some days. I can not help being far from my friend Khady in France whom I saw last about four years ago in Paris. But this week I was able to bridge the distance through a piece she wrote for Matt’s book. What an honour to translate Khady’s words, to learn how much her worldview has changed through life in Europe. I suppose our worldviews are all in a constant state of evolution, if we open ourselves to change.
I find vulnerability opens up doors to learning. Before children, I preferred solo travel because this vulnerability made it easier to meet people and soak up the culture. It was lonely at times, but most often my solitude brought me friends I would not have known had I been travelling with company. In the end, the solitude and the never-ending search for the “right way” to live brought me home ready to start my own family with Matt. I think I finally found what I sought: the courage to take all I’d learned in my life and travels and take a stab at family life. Voila Jacinta nine months later. My worldview has drastically changed in the past few years, partly due to my new geographical location, age and because of my new role in life: mother.
Mothering this week has been humorous, energizing, trying, and gratifying all at once. Jacinta and I made Valentines (which aren’t such an Aussie thing) and even made Valentines shortbread cookies. Genevieve and I played games with cups, baskets and balls and giggled a lot. Jacinta tinkered on the piano, danced around joyously, painted big pictures, wrote her name for the first time, played with and hid from her little sister and did some cooking in her cubbyhouse. Evie loves to pull down and tip out anything her big sister is cooking and is not phased by Jacinta’s gruff voice and scolding. After she’s had enough of this, and has tried out the swings, the see-saw and the slide, she crawls away from the safe cubby house world to roam the grassy hill. She coyly and very quickly crawls/walks down the hill with a knowing smile, assuming I’m following behind chasing her. I think it’s both a game to see how far away she can escape and a desire to play with mud and grass. Genevieve also found a new pastime in “shopping,” filling her purse with little things around the house.
To balance out the week, Jacinta sulked, had a few tantrums, screamed at the top of her lungs for slight bumps and scrapes and fought long and hard to be in charge. Genevieve too is learning to scream to get attention and will stop and smile as soon as she is up in arms or you have given her what she was pursuing. She is either teething or pretending to be in order to make it into our bed in the middle of the night. Jacinta sang her little heart out in choir, standing up and reading her “music” (pictures) like a big girl. She made it through another full day at preschool, with a few tears but nothing drastic. She skipped around happily in dance class, and tapped loudly with her new tap shoes (given to her by another mum one minute before class began). With her newfound speed, Genevieve successfully broke into the dance studio a few times. First she was content to marvel at the beautiful sight, then to bounce to the music, finally breaking away to run across the floor and try to catch Jacinta. It’s all starting: little sister following big sister.
Coincidentally, my friend Anissa happens to have been a gymnast also so we are starting to teach our girls gymnastics. Jacinta and Lily were giddy to do this together and to have their mothers’ attention, but had a hard time accepting our advice. Both girls stubbornly refused their own mothers’ advice and went to the other mother to follow the very same advice because it was not their mum teaching. This would be the reason my mom sent me to another piano teacher to have lessons. Genevieve and little Henry (11 months) participated by plopping themselves in the middle of the mattress just to smile, be cute and try to imitate the girls. Jacinta has taken to reading us stories at night, simple stories that she has memorized. She has not yet showed her hard-headedness with reading, obviously because it is still a complete mystery to her.
Predators and prey are another mystery to our big girl. She has been watching National Geographic videos about dolphins, crocodiles, polar bears, sharks and chimpanzees. They are well done, in that they don’t harp on the kill but show only what is necessary. The other day she asked why we don’t eat our roosters, because some of her friends do. She eats ham on occasion now and loves it. The other day she was playing with a plastic pig and a finger puppet of a little girl and said, “She is killing the pig because she wants to eat ham for dinner.” She had the little girl jump on the pig a few times and then it was dinner time. It was a bit strange coming out of my girl’s imagination but I suppose she’s coming to terms with wanting to eat meat and the reality of how it gets to her plate. Jacinta says she has bad dreams some nights, usually about foxes. It makes Matt and I sad to contemplate her fear in the night, but I guess it’s a part of life. At least she’s not fearing kidnappers, my most vivid childhood nightmares.
The other night she and Genevieve joined Matt and I in our evening after failing to fall asleep. Jacinta lay on the couch listening to Alison Kraus on the stereo, asking questions every few minutes. Genevieve was just doing her normal kitchen circuit. At one point Jacinta said, smitten, “Oh, this lady sings so pretty.” She asked to play one song over and over until she realized they all sounded just as beautiful. Matt took out her guitar and restrung it. Knowing this was stolen time, she shyly asked permission to come and watch. She marvelled at how dark it was outside, and curiously asked if this is what we did every night while she was sleeping. Of course they both eventually went to sleep. The funny thing is that rather than begrudging them for stealing our alone time I enjoyed the feel of the night with our whole family together. It brought me back to when I was a little girl. I loved the evenings after dinner with my dad home from work, playing games, baking, playing music, watching movies all together until bedtime. I won’t deny that I also love the rare chance when the girls are asleep before dark and I get out in the garden. Matt keeps me up on the moon planting guide, always letting me know when it is the right time to plant. Lately I’ve been resisting the urge, but one night this week I planted some lettuce, spinach, broccoli and purslane. I even transplanted a passionfruit vine that had been sitting in a pot for six months, somehow still alive. Matt just finished playing his guitar on the veranda in the moonlight. Evenings are peaceful no matter what, perhaps the sun resting sets the vibe. I say this with Evie sitting at my feet playing with a tissue box at 11:25pm after waking three times this evening. Hmm….
By day Matt kept busy as usual this week doing a wide array of jobs. He worked on a few broken lawn mowers with Keith, completed another subject for his counselling course, filled out some more depressing job applications, and began work on our camp’s website. The sadness in filling out long job applications lies in the knowledge that after trying to convince the employer that he possesses the appropriate skills and would put his heart into the position, they probably won’t call him or even read it all because he has no connections. On a more positive note, we all put in a good day of labour on the chicken pen today. In between digging post holes and tearing down the old sheet metal walls, Matt began cleaning out his tool shed. Originally Blessed is still coming along. Matt did another phone interview regarding a work of art in the book, some editing, and some work on the front cover and the layout. He sends out a weekly reflection to those involved or just interested. So if you would like to be included, let him know. There is also a new movie on our website for you. Just click on VIDEOS on www.paintedguitar.com to see how the girls are growing.
Given the slumping economy, our new prime minister’s energy and the United States’ hope for a better political situation, the future can only be brighter. In a relative scheme, we’re pretty lucky whether or not we have jobs at the moment. What a blessing that the hardest part about unemployment here is the mental energy it requires to make it through the day. Obviously we’d be contemplating a move had we not the means to feed or house ourselves. I now understand that “living in the country” is a privilege that only some people can enjoy, given the difficulty to make a living out here. We still relish this privilege. I hope you are all well dear ones.
Peace,
Shana
posted by Matt & Shana & Jacinta & Genevieve Henry at
12:59 AM
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