Martu Tjitji Pakani:

Martu Child Rearing and its

Implications for the Child

Welfare System

Trevor Jewell, BSW (Curtin), MSW (UWA).

This thesis is presented for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy of the University of

Western Australia, School of Social and Cultural Studies, in the Discipline of Social

Work and Social Policy, 2008.

Abstract

In this research, I explore my belief that one the reasons for the continuing poor outcomes for Indigenous people was that State-wide and national programs ignored unique local

Indigenous culture and did not actively involve local Indigenous people in the development of programs for their area. I chose to examine this perception through investigation of the tension between Indigenous culture and worldview and the dominant White values of the child welfare system (broadly defined), through description of Martu child rearing practices and beliefs in the remote Western Australian town of Wiluna. The Martu live in a remote environment of material poverty, high levels of unemployment, low levels of educational achievement and poor health outcomes.

The research sponsored by the Ngangganawili Aboriginal Health Service and located in its

Early Childhood Centre, uses an Indigenous research approach based on Brayboy’s (2005)

TribalCrit to explore Martu child rearing practices, beliefs and values. It uses the stories told by the Martu in Wiluna about the way they and their families were brought up and observations of Martu families to answer research questions around Martu definitions of children and families, their concerns for their children, ways of ensuring the well being of their children, and whether there is a Martu child welfare approach. The research then considers the implications of these Martu practices for the broadly defined child welfare system.

i The stories told by the Martu show that they have a unique way of bringing up their children that is different to those in the dominant White culture. This uniqueness is derived from a combination of the recent colonisation of the Martu, their culture and their post colonisation experiences. The implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system are based on the assumption that Martu are wholly dependent on poorly designed and targeted government provided or funded services, and the current ways of delivering these services is failing the Martu. The research concludes that the key to improving outcomes for Martu children and their families is for the agencies delivering these services to form close working relationships with the Martu; operate within, understand, appreciate, and respect Martu Law and culture; understand their (personal and agency) and Martu post colonisation histories; and allow for Martu control, definition of priorities and development of strategies to address the problems.

ii Table of Contents

PROLOGUE: NJANJI FAMILY STORY ...... 1 INTRODUCTION ...... 1 FORCED OUT OF THE DESERT ...... 3 EXPELLED FROM JIGALONG MISSION ...... 5 FAMILY BREAKDOWN AND SPEARING ...... 6 TRAUMA IN THE NEXT GENERATION ...... 8 NJANJI FAMILY AT PRESENT ...... 10 WOULD LIFE IN THE DESERT HAVE BEEN DIFFERENT? ...... 11 CHAPTER ONE MARTU TJITJI PAKARNI – MARTU CHILD REARING ...... 13 INTRODUCTION ...... 13 THE RESEARCH PROJECT ...... 16 DEFINITION OF THE CHILD WELFARE SYSTEM ...... 19 IMPETUS FOR THE RESEARCH ...... 22 THE RESEARCHER ...... 25 RESEARCH FOCUS ...... 27 THEORETICAL APPROACH ...... 29 RESEARCH SETTING ...... 31 Wiluna Martu ...... 33 Town of Wiluna ...... 36 CONCLUSION ...... 38 OUTLINE OF THE CHAPTERS ...... 39 Indigenous Research ...... 39 Indigenous Child Rearing ...... 39 Wiluna Martu Domain ...... 40 Martu Child Rearing ...... 40 Implications of Martu Child Rearing for the Child Welfare System ...... 41 Conclusion ...... 41 CHAPTER TWO INDIGENOUS RESEARCH ...... 43 INTRODUCTION ...... 43 INDIGENOUS RESEARCH ...... 45 The Researcher ...... 53 THEORY INFORMING INDIGENOUS RESEARCH ...... 56 RESEARCH METHODOLOGY ...... 64 RESEARCH PROCESS ...... 68 Research Principles ...... 70 Research Tools ...... 84 Research Practice ...... 96 CHALLENGES OF THE RESEARCH APPROACH ...... 98 Talking about Issues of Sensitivity ...... 99 Elusiveness of Men ...... 100 Language ...... 102 CONCLUSION ...... 103 CHAPTER THREE INDIGENOUS CHILD REARING: THEMES, PRACTICES, AND BELIEFS ...... 105 INTRODUCTION ...... 105 INDIGENOUS CHILD REARING ...... 106 DEFINITION OF CHILD REARING ...... 109 CHARACTERISTICS OF INDIGENOUS CHILD REARING ...... 111 Pre-Colonisation Strengths ...... 111 Pathologising Indigenous Child Rearing ...... 112 Indigenous Child Rearing Principles ...... 113

iii Indigenous Child Rearing Practices ...... 125 CONCLUSION ...... 136 CHAPTER FOUR MARTU DOMAIN ...... 139 INTRODUCTION ...... 139 THE MARTU DOMAIN ...... 140 EVOLUTION OF THE MARTU DOMAIN ...... 149 Pre-colonisation Martu Domain ...... 150 Post Contact Martu Domain ...... 155 Contemporary Martu Domain ...... 161 CONCLUSION ...... 174 CHAPTER FIVE MARTU CHILD REARING ...... 177 INTRODUCTION ...... 177 CHILD REARING IN THE MARTU DOMAIN ...... 178 Tjukurrpa ...... 181 Walta ...... 182 Ngurra ...... 183 Kanyini ...... 184 Key Elements of Child Rearing in the Martu Domain ...... 187 MARTU CHILD REARING IN THE CONTESTED DOMAIN ...... 194 Diversity of Experience within the Contested Domain ...... 196 Tjukurrpa ...... 199 Walta ...... 199 Ngurra ...... 202 Kanyini ...... 203 Definition of a Child ...... 221 Autonomy ...... 222 Discipline ...... 224 Rights of Child as Opposed to the Rights of Walta...... 225 Peer Group ...... 226 INFLUENCE OF THE WHITE DOMAIN ON MARTU CHILD REARING ...... 227 Failure to Hold their Tjitji ...... 228 The Effect of Alcohol and Drug Abuse on all Martu ...... 229 Unwillingness by Young People to Learn About the ‘Right Ways’ of Living...... 230 Impact of Change on Martu Life ...... 231 CONCLUSION ...... 235 CHAPTER SIX THE IMPLICATIONS OF MARTU TJITJI PAKANI ...... 237 INTRODUCTION ...... 237 IMPLICATIONS ...... 239 1.The Colonisation of Martu is Recent and Ongoing ...... 241 2. The Colonisation of the Martu is based in Imperialism, and a Desire for Material Gain...... 250 3. Martu Maintain Their Own Identity through their Domain 4. Unique Martu Cultural Concepts ...... 258 5. Governmental Policies and Educational Policies are Assimilationist ...... 270 6. Martu Worldview is Central to Understanding their Lived Realities and their Difference ...... 276 7.“Stories are not Separate from Theory” ...... 280 8 ...... “Theory and Practice are Connected ... such that Scholars Must Work Towards Social Change.” ...... 282 CONCLUSION ...... 288 CHAPTER SEVEN CONCLUSION - WANTJAWAKA (WHICH WAY)? ...... 297 INTRODUCTION ...... 297 WANTJAWAKA – WHICH WAY? ...... 298 Suicide ...... 299 Wiluna Remote Area School ...... 300 Adult Education Centre ...... 300 iv Housing ...... 301 Wiluna Shire Council ...... 301 Tjukurrpa Art Gallery ...... 302 Ngangganawili Health and Medical Service ...... 302 Department for Child Protection ...... 302 Community Feeling ...... 303 REFLECTIONS ...... 304 MEANINGS OF MARTU STORIES ...... 309 HOW SHOULD THE CHILD WELFARE SYSTEM RESPOND TO MARTU CHILD REARING? ...... 313 BIBLIOGRAPHY ...... 321

v Acknowledgements

I have been very lucky in undertaking this project, as I have been the beneficiary of a great deal of generousity from every person I have encountered.

The first person I would like to thank and acknowledge is my wife Jane, who with great generousity and love provided the motivation, opportunity, and encouragement for me to complete this thesis.

Then there are a group of people those from Wiluna and my supervisors who made this

PhD possible. Richard Whittington, Renae Chidlow, and the group of senior Martu women or Gundjuno Parntan from Wiluna, are the people who gave their time, their knowledge and shared their resources with me in a way that made my journey much more interesting and comfortable. I was fortunate to have two sets of skilled supervisors, who gave their time, knowledge, patience, and as a result contributed significantly to my academic and personal growth through this lengthy process. The first supervisors were Associate

Professor Maria Harries of the Discipline of Social Work and Social Policy, Dr Harry

Blagg then from the Crime Research Centre and Darrell Henry who was the Indigenous supervisor. Dr Susan Young took over from Maria when she retired and Dr Dawn Bessarab became the Indigenous supervisor. I would especially like to thank Darrell and Dawn for their important contribution, provided in an unpaid capacity.

Then there are those people who assisted me in many ways, from the administrative support at the Discipline of Social Work and Social Policy and the Crime Research Centre, to Dawn

vi Wallam from Yorganop who linked me into the SNAICC system and network and the many people who gave me the benefit of their knowledge and time.

To you all my heart felt thanks.

vii Statement of Candidate Contribution

I hereby declare that this thesis is the author's own contribution. All sources have been acknowledged and the author's contribution is clearly identified.

The thesis was proof read by Dr Kathryn Trees.

This thesis has been completed during the course of enrolment in the degree of Doctor of

Philosophy at the University of Western Australia and has not previously been accepted for a degree at this or any other institution.

viii Glossary and Abbreviations

AAPA Aboriginal Affairs Planning Authority – replaced by the Department of Indigenous Affairs (Western Australian Government agency responsible for Indigenous people in WA).

Aboriginal Indigenous or first Australians.

ATSIC Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Commission – the elected nation Indigenous representative body abolished by the Federal Liberal Government in 2004.

Citizenship Those services provided to all Australians by the right of their Services citizenship such as power, water, health care, and income support.

Contested Domain The space where the Martu and White domains conduct their business.

CRT Brayboy (2005:428) describes Critical Race Theory is ‘‘a form of opposition scholarship’’ (Calmore, 1992: p. 2161) that grew from a discontent that CLS was not moving fast enough in its attempts to critique and change societal and legal structures that specifically focused on race and racism (Delgado & Stefancic, 2000). While CRT centers race and racism, it also focuses on other areas of subordination. Solorzano (1998) writes, ‘‘Although race and racism are at the center of a critical race analysis, they are also viewed at their intersection with other forms of subordination such as gender and class discrimination’’ (p. 122). CRT values experiential knowledge as a way to inform thinking and research.”

Department of Replaced by ATSIC as the federal body with responsibility for Aboriginal Affairs Indigenous Affairs.

Department for The Western Australian State Government agency with the Child Protection statutory responsibility for child protection.

Department for Name of DCD in early 1980s. See DCD Community Welfare (DCW) Department for Replaced DCW as the Western Australian State Government Community agency with the statutory responsibility for child protection. It was Development split into two agencies and the child protection function assumed by (DCD) the Department for Child Protection. The other agency is the Department for Communities.

ix

Holding Kanyini or Kanyininpa or the system of growing up Martu children where the older generation nurtures with authority the next generation.

HREOC Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission is a national government funded human rights organisation.

Indigenous Refers to the people who inhabited the Australian continent prior to colonisation by the Europeans.

Kanyini As in Holding.

Kanyininpa As in Holding.

Martu Meaning man, is the name for a broad Indigenous regional grouping for the areas around Wiluna, Jigalong and extending as far north to Lake Disappointment.

Mardu The spelling of Martu used by Tonkinson.

Martu Domain That part of Martu life that is exclusively within their control. It contains and nurtures the Tjukurrpa, Walta, and Ngurra.

Ngangganawili The Indigenous Community Controlled Health Service in Wiluna.

RCIADIC Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody.

SDA Seventh Day Adventist Church.

Tjitji Martu word for child.

Tjukurrpa Martu word for the dreaming and the Law.

Walta Martu word for the extended family.

White Domain The space of the dominant White culture and its worldview and values.

x Prologue: Njanji Family Story

Introduction

The tragic story of three generations of the Njanji family (see footnote 1) (also known as

Nanji, Nando, Nandi or Ngani: RCIADIC Regional Report into Underlying Issues:1991: section 5.11 Customary Law) is used to introduce the recent post contact history of the

Martu people, some of whom now live in the remote town Wiluna in the northern goldfields of Western Australia (see map at attachment 7).

The Njanji family story has been told by various family members over a period of time, to the staff and investigators from the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody, to Graham (1985:20 - 25) an experienced investigative journalist and to academics Parker

(1987:136 - 152) and Berndt (quoted in the RCIADIC Regional Report into Underlying

Issues:1991:section 5.11 Customary Law). It reflects the original voices of the family, as re-told by these people. The few surviving family members and senior Martu women gave permission to use the story.

1 The Njanji family like many Martu people had their first contact with Europeans when they were forced to leave the desert in the early 1960s1 by Native Welfare patrols. These patrols were clearing the desert of all Indigenous people prior to the testing of the Blue Streak

Rocket as part of the cold war weapons development program operated by the United

Kingdom and Australian Governments. The rocket was to be test fired from Woomera in the south west of South Australia into the central desert. The Governments were concerned that Indigenous people still living in the central deserts of Australia would be placed in danger by this rocket.

Other Martu were also forced from the desert. One family group’s story is told in the book

Cleared Out: First Contact in the Western Desert (2005) written by Davenport and Johnson in partnership with Yuwali, a Martu woman from Jigalong. Yuwali was part of a family group who like the Njanji family was forced from the desert. Her and her family’s story is used to fill the gaps in the Njanji story that cannot be told by the many members of the family who have passed away.

1 The retelling of the Njanji family’s story adheres to certain Martu cultural rules. Martu usually do not refer to the name of a person who has died. I refer to the family name, name the father as Njanji, and refer to other members of the family by their relationship to the father. The family name has been published on a number of occasions over the last twenty years so the impact of the use of the family name is reduced. The other rule is not to cause grief by talking about sad stories such as this. As a result, the story is largely sourced from publically available information on the experiences of three generations of the family. The few surviving family members and senior Martu women gave permission to use the story.

2 Forced Out of the Desert

The experiences of the Njanji family whilst living in the desert, and at the time of their removal, are not recorded and none of the family alive at that time survives. Unfortunately, the members of their extended family knew nothing about the Njanji family’s experiences at this time. However, this was the same period as documented in Cleared Out (Davenport et al: 2005) and it is my belief that all the Martu forced from the desert were treated in the similar manner. This book records the terror of the Martu as they were pursued around the desert by patrol officers. One of the authors, Yuwali, was a child at the time of being forced from the desert. Her story talks about the fear and panic she and her family group experienced when they were chased by Native Welfare Patrol Officers in two vehicles and by aircraft around the Lake Disappointment - Percival Lakes area for many days. At the time, they had not seen vehicles or aircraft before and they were objects beyond their conception, which added to the prolonged period of fear.

The father of the Njanji family or Walta group, was a Putijarra Yakirri-tjarra, a Putijarra speaking fully initiated man who was born between 1924 and 1935 in the desert

(RCIADIC:Njanji:1992). Njanji, his wife, and some children were physically forced to leave their Ngurra (home country) in the area north east of Jigalong by Native Welfare

Patrol Officers. The event was complicated by the fact that neither group could communicate with each other. It must have been a complete subjugation of the family’s wishes. It should be remembered that many Martu chose to remain in the desert where the attractions of their country or Ngurra outweighed those of the White people and their possessions. There were many reasons for this ranging from preferring desert life and

3 living in their own country to avoiding other Martu because they were ‘married the wrong way’ to fear of living in another group’s country and to being fearful of Whites.

The Martu were living as hunters and gatherers when they were set upon by these white people travelling in foreign objects. Cleared Out (Davenport et al: 2005) records that the

Martu had no idea who or what was pursuing them or why. When they were apprehended, they had no idea what was going to happen. Yuwali’s group were scared of the White men, their clothes, the motor vehicles, and refused to eat the canned food because they thought they would be poisoned. Understandably, this was a terrifying experience.

Not all Australians thought the desert ‘rescue’ project was a good idea. Dr Charles Duguid

(Graham:1985:25) commented about the Blue Streak Weapons Program that;

the whole fabric of life of 1500 or more of our tribal Aborigines is to be sacrificed

for another war … Shot and poisoned as they were in the early days neglected and

despised more lately, must our Aborigines now be finally sacrificed and hurried to

extinction by sudden contact with the mad demands of twentieth century militarism.

It has to be questioned whether the purpose of the patrols into the desert was simply to clear the desert for the military exercise. Did the project have an added appeal to both the

Western Australian and Federal Governments, because it would serve to bring all

Indigenous groups from the desert into missions and under the control of Native Welfare?

Whatever the motivation, the desert was effectively cleared out. Langton (1993:1) suggests that this removal of Indigenous people into settlements was a process of pacification similar to the one used during the Vietnam War.

4

Expelled from Jigalong Mission

After being ‘forced’ from their country the Nanji family was left at the closest settlement,

Jigalong Mission, which was run by an evangelical protestant group. The Njanji family stayed there for a number of years. The report of the Royal Commission into Aboriginal

Deaths in Custody (RCIADIC:1992: section 5.11 Customary Law and RCIADIC

(Njanji:1992)) Inquiry into Njanji’s death notes that “Njanji's adaptation to this fringe outpost of non-Aboriginal culture at the mission was slow he did not quickly adopt new values and culture and showed little enthusiasm for whatever job training was on offer at the mission.” They were discharged from the Mission because Nanji would not fit in with the Mission (RCIADIC:Njanji:1992). The loss of freedom and autonomy may have been balanced by easy access to food, water, and Walta family in Jigalong. However, any benefit was lost when they were thrown off the mission.

When the family were removed from the Mission, they moved four hundred kilometres south to Meekatharra (see attachment 7). From there, they eventually settled in Wiluna at the Bondini Reserve (see picture at attachment 6) (RCIADIC:Njanji:1992). This was the second forced removal for the family, which meant that they moved further away from their country - Ngurra and family - Walta. The move to Meekatharra took them out of their

Ngurra into that of another Indigenous group the Yamitji. Whilst living in Meekatharra the family were in Indigenous terms, a guest, they had no rights and no family to call on for support. For a traditional Martu family, who could not speak English or Yamitji, this would

5 have been very stressful. When they moved to Wiluna, their life situation would have marginally improved, as there were more of their people or Putijarra Martu in the area.

Family Breakdown and Spearing

In 1969, Nanji's wife left him for another man and then left Wiluna. It is suspected that their departure from Wiluna was designed to avoid the conflict associated with the relationship and to allow all parties to adjust to the changed circumstances. Njanji was left to deal with the ‘shame’ of the relationship breakdown and with the care of the children.

Nothing is known about the reason for his split with his wife, but it too would have been a traumatic event for the family (RCIADIC:Njanji:1992).

In 1971, his ex-wife and her partner returned to Wiluna. However, Njanji was still compelled by Martu Law or Tjukurrpa to punish his wife’s new partner for his loss. Njanji was forced by both the families to take action and spear the other man. The spearing should have been the end of the conflict but Njanji’s opponent died from the spearing and the police became involved (RCIADIC:Njanji:1992).

Berndt provided his opinion on this case to the RCIADIC and he commented that, “Ngani's

[he uses a different spelling of the family name] behaviour appears to have been consistently traditional - and the expected outcome would not be death but simply wounding, as punishment: the drawing of blood to resolve the affair.” Berndt continues with his opinion saying, “Ngani and his kin would not regard themselves as having committed an indictable offence. On the contrary, they would have seen themselves as

6 having resolved, or attempted to resolve, a difficult and upsetting situation. Ngani would not be regarded as culpable in these circumstances - not in traditional Aboriginal customary law.” (Regional Report on Underlying Issues:section 5.11:Customary Law:Dodson:1991)

In his evidence for the RCIADIC, Berndt (RCIADIC:1991: Regional Report on Underlying

Issues Report: section 5.11:Customary Law) is of the view that the man’s family would have been unlikely to regard his death as due to the spearing by Nanji but due to events relating to his treatment. Njanji was prosecuted for the unlawful killing of the other man.

Berndt (RCIADIC:1991:Underlying Issues Report: section 5.11 Customary Law) notes that

Ngani was “primarily a semi-nomadic, traditionally - orientated Aboriginal who has little or no English” and suggests that Njanji would not have understood what the court was about.

Unfortunately, Njanji was sentenced to a period of imprisonment.

The impact of the death and the punishment of Njanji by the courts would have compounded the traumas experienced by the family. The impact on the family of being at the centre of such an incident would have been severe. Njanji was doubly punished for something he was required by Tjukurrpa to do, he was imprisoned and was cut off from family - Walta and country - Ngurra.

After Njanji was released from prison in Geraldton (some six hundred kilometres south west of Wiluna) he did not return to Wiluna for fear of reprisal from the family of the man he killed (RCIADIC:Njanji:1992) He was again effectively banished and had to move to the Port Hedland area (see map in Appendix) where he was again living in someone else’s country away from his Ngurra and away from his Walta. It is not surprising that after his

7 life experiences Njanji suffered from alcohol related illnesses. He died in 1985, from injuries sustained in police custody.

Trauma in the Next Generation

Njanji’s daughter was born in Wiluna in 1968 just before her mother left her father. Parker

(1987:136 – 152) records a chronology of her life. After her birth in Wiluna, the young girl and her family came under the attention of the Seventh Day Adventist Missionaries. She was considered to be a bright child and when she was four was taken on a holiday to

Sydney by some missionaries. It was said that she was given hopes of a different life but was “dumped,” according to Parker (1987), back on the reserve after the holidays. Parker

(1987) said she was very disappointed by this. This was around the time that her mother returned to Wiluna and her step-father was killed by her father.

According to Parker (1987), the girl did well at primary school and was sent to the hostel at

Cue (some three hundred kilometres away) to continue her education. Cue Hostel was a school welfare hostel run by the Department for Community Welfare, which was run in a non-Indigenous way by non-Indigenous staff. As a result, this young primary school girl was taken away from her Walta (family) and Ngurra (home) for significant periods of the year to live in a White dormitory system and attend a White school.

When Njanji’s daughter was 11, she was again moved, with ‘welfare’ support, from her immediate family to stay with her mother’s brother at a Catholic Mission in the north of the state. Her trust in her Walta was seriously breached when her uncle raped her whilst she

8 was held down by her aunt. She courageously made a complaint to the police and her uncle was imprisoned for five years but was not punished traditionally, which Parker (1987) says, seriously disappointed her.

Njanji’s daughter was returned to Wiluna after this incident and began to drink heavily.

Parker (1987) comments that this eleven year old girl and ward of the State, was getting drunk whilst her peers were still in primary school. She was out of control, offended often and was sentenced detention in the Perth juvenile corrections institution Nyandi.

The young woman’s trust was again breached, when she became pregnant and gave birth to a girl. Graham (1985:20 - 25) suggests that the father was either a white police officer or prison officer. If this is true, a person in authority took advantage of a young girl in State care who would have been well under 16 years of age. This trauma was compounded when this young woman was not allowed to keep her baby. The baby was fostered with a

Nyungar (an Indigenous group from the Perth area) family because she was considered by the ‘welfare’ to be an ‘unfit mother’. Parker (1987:136 – 152) records that a welfare officer felt that the way the removal and placement of the baby was handled was extremely insensitive. In response, (Parker:1987) Njanji’s daughter burnt down the ‘welfare’ office in

Wiluna and was again sentenced to imprisonment and returned to Nyandi. Graham

(1985:20 - 25) argues that the young woman wanted to care for her child, believing Walta in Wiluna would help her, but the ‘welfare’ would not consider this. She considered the placement with the Nyungar family to be culturally inappropriate, as they were not Martu.

This is important. She clearly did not see the Nyungar family’s Aboriginality as being relevant as they were not her Walta. Rather, she considered it of critical importance that her daughter was brought up within her Martu Walta and Ngurra. It seems clear from her

9 actions that she was traumatised by the removal of her child and she was punished for responding and hitting out at the ‘welfare’ by burning the office.

After her incarceration, this young woman, who was still under sixteen years of age, moved to Perth and lived at a women’s hostel. She continued to drink heavily. Soon after, when very drunk she castrated an old drunk man and killed another in a boarding house after they masturbated in front of her. The response was horrific, but needs to be interpreted in the context of her life experiences and the influence of alcohol. These mitigating factors did not prevent her from again being imprisoned way from her Ngurra in the Nyandi juvenile institution. On release, she returned to Wiluna but soon left, running away with another sister’s husband. She died soon after and her sister subsequently died from a chronic illness.

Parker (1987:147) argues;

The effect of the traumatic changes forced on her family should be stressed. A truly

isolated close knit traditional group was suddenly transported in rapid succession

to a mission, reserve, and country town and left to cope with the associated

fragmentation, interference, racism, alienation and dependence.

Njanji Family at Present

The traumas for this family continue. Whilst Njanji’s surviving son works at a mine, his partner abuses alcohol and is considered by the Department for Child Protection (DCP) (the

10 new name for the ‘welfare’) to be unable to care for their two children. The children have been placed, with DCP support, in an informal foster placement with an extended family member in Jigalong. Njanji’s surviving daughter has her own set of problems and is chronically obese. She said she has tried on a number of occasions to care for her niece and nephew but cannot physically do so because of her size and health problems. She was extremely disappointed when her nephew was removed from her care by DCP. This woman is trying to improve her life so she can care for her niece and nephew. Apparently, she was a heavy drinker but has been able to stop drinking and is now trying to lose enough weight to qualify for a weight loss operation.

There is little to suggest that the outcomes for the third generation of the Njanji family will be any different to that of the preceding generations. Njanji’s two grandchildren have been placed by DCP away from their birth parents, other family members, and their Ngurra. The other grandchild still lives with her foster family in Perth and has had no contact with her family in Wiluna. Njanji’s surviving children and the extended family do not have the opportunity to address the traumas associated with their past, in part, because no healing services exist in Jigalong or Wiluna.

Would Life in the Desert Have Been Different?

What would have been the outcome for the Njanji family if they had been left in the desert along with other Martu, or if they had been treated in a humane culturally sensitive manner? Njanji could not have foreseen that his family would be so seriously affected by the contact with the Australian welfare state. The surviving few have inherited, what

11 Atkinson (2002:81) calls, “transgenerational trauma”. She concludes (2002:92), “when physical, structural or psychological violence is used to achieve the objective of domination, the outcomes may not only produce acute trauma, but may set in place chronic conditions of ongoing victimisation and traumatisation at different levels, compounding the traumatisation across generations.” One of the Ngangganawili Aboriginal Health Service doctors concurs suggesting that many Martu are suffering from the effects of traumatic events in their lives such as the way they were removed from the desert, thrown off stations when award wages had to be paid, and been exposed to alcohol fuelled violence.

The treatment of the Njanji family was not an isolated case. The impact of colonisation on other Martu families is recorded in the epilogue (Davenport et al:2005:184 – 188) of

Cleared Out. Of the twenty one, mostly younger people in Yuwali’s family group, who were forced from the desert in 1964, thirteen have died and many at an early age. Contact with White Australia has been a catastrophic experience for many Martu, one that continues into the present.

The story of the Njanji family is used here, to focus on the role of the welfare system generally and child welfare system specifically, over a period of forty or fifty years in overseeing what can only be considered a complete collapse of a Martu family. It tells of the consequences for this Martu family when the ‘welfare’ as the agents of colonisation ignored and continues to ignore Martu culture, worldview, and beliefs. The question arises as to whether understanding Martu ways and incorporating them in working with this family would have resulted in fewer traumas for them. The Njanji family story tells what statistics cannot; the human experience of the impact of the colonisation.

12

“We are different to those other mobs, we do not hold with the same things as they do.”

(Senior Martu Woman from Wiluna:2006)

Chapter One Martu Tjitji Pakarni – Martu Child Rearing

Introduction

This chapter serves to introduce the research project by explaining my motivation for undertaking this project. I then provide contextual information on Indigenous child welfare in Western Australia, the development of the research questions, the research approach, and the research setting. The final part of the chapter provides an outline of the remaining chapters.

This research project arose out of my experience of many years of working with, and for,

Indigenous groups in Western Australia and my belief that the Indigenous Affairs industry continues to fail Indigenous people. I argue that Indigenous social welfare programs do not meet the unique needs of local Indigenous people. The reasons for the failure of

Indigenous social welfare and child welfare programs to improve life outcomes for

Indigenous people are complicated. Hunt and Smith (2007:xi) analyse Indigenous governance in the West Kimberley in the north of Western Australia, and conclude that, the issues involved are complex, conceptually challenging, multi-layered and do not lend themselves to straightforward or instant solutions.

13 Hunt and Smith (2007:xi) find that;

the maxim that an imposed or ‘one size fits all’ policy approach to addressing many

of the issues will likely prove to be both unworkable and unsustainable. For

Indigenous community groups and organisations, a major identified hurdle is the

lack of relevant, practical information on what works and what does not work, and

the lack of facilitated support for their chosen ways forward.

Boyd Hunter (2007:36) characterises Indigenous Affairs as a “wicked problem” (“a term used in the planning literature to characterise a complex multi-dimensional problem”) He concludes that;

Indigenous policy is one of the most complex areas facing governments, as it

involves many issues that do not exist for other Australians: a dynamic cultural life;

a need to change social norms; unique forms of property rights, such as native title;

and the intergenerational transmission of disadvantage, sometimes arising from

problematic historical government interventions (such as, the ‘stolen generation’).

It is my experience that the complexity of Indigenous Affairs is but one of the reasons for the continuing poor outcomes for Indigenous people. Another reason is that State-wide and national programs ignore unique local Indigenous culture and do not actively involve local

Indigenous people in the development of programs for their area. The recent review by

Robinson and Tyler (2008:9) of a Tiwi family intervention program Exploring Together

Program echoes this perspective. They concluded that;

14 The transfer and implementation of evidence based programs for parents and

children to the context of remote Indigenous communities requires a significant

investment of effort to achieve culturally competent and sustainable program

delivery. The building of capacity, and the adaptation of a program’s processes

and its content for remote Indigenous contexts, must be supported by an investment

in research and development to support new practices and the development of

evaluation methods consistent with the aims of the program.

I argue, that government Indigenous ‘welfare’ policy and programs has been driven by political agendas, rather than the unique needs of the many Indigenous groups. Largely they are based on what Dillon (2007:1) describes as “the murk and opacity which exists between policy objectives and policy and program outcomes.” As a result, Indigenous people in Australia have suffered and continue to suffer from a high level of Government interference in all aspects of their lives in some areas and extreme neglect in others.

For Indigenous people, the answer to questions of ‘what works’ and ‘what does not work’ varies because of the diversity of Indigenous groups. This difference results from the diversity in Australian Indigenous culture, each group’s post colonisation experience, and the time elapsed since first contact with Europeans. It is my opinion that the ‘top down’

‘one size fits all’ government policy making encourages a homogenised view of Indigenous

Australians and perpetuates the myth that there are simple solutions to the ‘Indigenous problem’. Hunter (2006:37) identifies that “Imposing solutions from above is both profoundly illiberal and unlikely to produce real solutions at all.”

15 The non-Indigenous writer, Wilkins (2008) argues that “there is no clear pan-Indigenous

‘experience’, except by virtue of opposition to non-Indigenous occupation”, and claims that the “use of the terms ‘Aboriginal’ and ‘Indigenous’ allows governments to try to devise one-size-fits-all policies, rather than doing the hard work of recognising the important differences at regional and community levels.” It is Wilkins’ (2008) view that “many of the traditional landowners in central Australia do not consider themselves ‘Aboriginal’. …

For them, talk of ‘Aboriginal’ initiatives is irrelevant”. These groups refer to their linguistic group name instead, that locates them physically and in reference to people from other linguistic groups.

Indigenous diversity is also an element of child rearing beliefs and practices. Yeo

(2003:297) argues, “it is true that there is no one Aboriginal child-rearing practice, and similarly, there is no one Anglo-Australian childrearing method. There is diversity in any cultural group, including the Aboriginal culture. Even within each clan, there is wide variation in the child-rearing practices.”

The Research Project

This research project explores the tension between Indigenous culture and worldview and the dominant White values of the child welfare system, through description of Martu child rearing practices and beliefs in the remote Western Australian town of Wiluna and examines the implications of these ‘Martu ways’ for the child welfare system. My intent is to focus on the strength of Martu culture and practice rather to document the level and type

16 of Indigenous child abuse in Wiluna. Nor do I make a direct comparison between Martu and Western child rearing practices, beliefs, and values. The diversity of non-Martu

Australian families makes it difficult to make a comparison without essentialising an

Australian way of child rearing and neither is it necessary to the research. The research draws on observations, discussions, interviews, and stories with Indigenous people who identify themselves as Martu, and from non-Indigenous people who work with those who consider themselves to be Wiluna Martu.

Within this document, Martu words are used as much as possible. The words and the spelling are drawn from a document compiled by a senior Martu woman Eileen Harris.

Even though she died some time ago, it was her wish that her name be used. According to her daughter (personal communication:2007), it is usual practice to use the term Napuru, which means a person who has died, out of respect, but Eileen requested that her name be used as she wanted to be remembered. This unpublished Martu-English word list was compiled by Eileen for the Ngangganawili. The spelling of words may differ from other

Martu and central desert Indigenous dictionaries.

The title for the research Martu Tjitji Pakarni is drawn from the Harris document. It simply means Martu child rearing.

In this research I use Atkinson’s (2002:ix) definition of culture because she is an

Indigenous Australian writer who writes from within her own community. She defines culture as a;

17 set of beliefs, values, and rules for living that is distinctive to a particular human

group … passed down the generations in the complex of relationships,

knowledges, languages, social organisations and life experiences that bind diverse

individuals and groups together … it is a living process. It changes over time to

reflect the changed environments and social interactions of people living together.

In the research I also refer to the term child maltreatment and rely on the work of Korbin

(1981, 1987a, 1991) on cross cultural child maltreatment for this research project as her approach encompasses more than just parental/carer maltreatment. Child maltreatment is defined by Finkelhor and Korbin (1988:4) as “the portion of harm to children that results from human action that is proscribed, proximate, and preventable.” This definition is used here as “it distinguishes child maltreatment from other social, economic, and health problems facing children in a diversity of nations”. And second, it is sufficiently “flexible to apply to a range of situations in a variety of social and cultural contexts.” Korbin’s definition includes neglect by the government of children such as the Martu and the pathologisation of groups such as the Martu because their cultural child rearing practices are different to the dominant culture. She changes the focus from the one dimensional and simplistic forensic approach to child maltreatment by an individual to include a broader view of the definition of maltreatment and the determinants of maltreatment. Korbin

(2003:137 – 140) argues that “While child maltreatment is, in its most proximal sense, an individual act of omission or commission, it is embedded in a larger context of family, neighborhood, community, society, and culture.”

I follow the work of Moreton–Robinson (1999:6) in her treatment of the concept of

‘whiteness’ in Australian Indigenous context. It is her view that;

18

Whiteness confers both dominance and privilege for white people; it is embedded in

Australia’s institutions and in the social practices of everyday life. Indigenous

women, men and children are forced to live with whiteness and the tension and

conflict it creates in our lives on a daily basis. Whiteness is thus also ever present

in the psyche of Indigenous people, but not because of its absence. Living with

whiteness means experiencing being treated as less than or not white, or for some

Indigenous people with white ski , being positioned as white. We are positioned as

not being entitled to an equal share in the resources of an Australian society as our

interests are not included in the sphere of the interests of the nation. Indigenous

people know that white culture does not respect, value or view as legitimate and

valid our knowledges and rights on our terms.

Definition of the Child Welfare System

Throughout the thesis, I often refer to the child welfare system. The child welfare system is broadly defined as the group of services with the statutory responsibility to promote the well-being of children by, ensuring safety both in the home and in the community, strengthening families to successfully care for their children, providing adequate income for the family, providing education for both life skills and academic pursuits, and providing health care both curative and preventative in a culturally appropriate manner.

19 This group of services includes primary, secondary, and technical education; child protection services; income support services; family support services; child, maternal, mental, and environmental health services; housing services and police services. I argue that a broad approach, which focuses on a range of services and the Indigenous community’s child care strategies rather than on the protection of children and detection of child maltreatment is necessary. The abuse of children does not occur in a vacuum. These services have a direct impact on the wellbeing of Martu children.

If the traditional narrow, focus of the definition of the child welfare system as meaning the child protection system was used in this research it would have a number of consequences.

Firstly, it would serve to narrow the discussion on the specific areas of responsibility of government agencies. In this instance it would only consider, from my perspective the largely forensically focussed child protection system in Western Australia. This system tends to focus on apportioning blame on parents and care givers for the maltreatment of children when the institutional maltreatment of Indigenous people is a far greater concern.

Such a focus would serve to deny the influences of colonisation, of poverty, of poor housing, limited access to health services, low levels of family safety and inadequate education services etc on the wellbeing of Indigenous families. It would also serve to allow the avoidance of responsibility by government agencies for poor outcomes for Indigenous people by those agencies claiming their own limited areas of responsibility.

Bessarab (2000:80) characterises this broader view of the child welfare system as a “birds eye view” which is an Indigenous approach she developed with Aboriginal colleagues which is based on the concept of “widening the aperture on a camera lens.” She argues

20 that, “When we look through a small opening on a lens we see a certain picture, by widening the lens the view widens, including more detail in the picture, and consequently providing more information.” This Aboriginal perspective brings the discussion to the next consequence of using such a narrow conception of the child welfare system is that it would serve allow agencies to deny the determinants of Indigenous disadvantage and to deny the

Indigenous worldview and realities. The narrow lens of “service workers” according to

Bessarab (2000:80) is compounded by their “lack of knowledge of cultural systems and their frequent application of Western models which function differently from Aboriginal models…” The broader lens of Bessarab includes the impacts of colonisation, the legislative treatment of Indigenous people and the Aboriginal terms of reference. This terms of reference includes the focus on the individual and the nuclear family as in the narrow focus of the child protection system but encompasses in the broader view the extended family, the Aboriginal community, government and the mainstream community.

(Bessarab:2000:86)

The third consequence of a narrow conception of child welfare is that serves to place the responsibility to deal with child maltreatment with helping professions such as social workers, psychologists and welfare workers, where as a broader conception includes educators, architects, builders, plumbers, mechanics, accountants, police, justice workers, health professionals, and local government officials etc. The narrow conception of child welfare ignores the context of Indigenous life that more significantly contributes to poor outcomes for Indigenous people. A social worker in their child protection role can do little about the poorly maintained house with over crowding that can exacerbate preventable child ill health and poor performance at school because children cannot sleep in crowded houses.

21

The agencies and their workers all have an impact on the welfare of Indigenous children and all need to be able to work in a culturally sensitive manner. In a remote context the builder, mechanic, plumber and electrician (and others) can all play a significant role in the prevention of systemic child maltreatment in that they all have role to play in ensuring children have access to safe clean housing, fresh food supplies, clean water, safe transport systems and functioning sewage systems. Especially in the remote context when all these workers are based in an Indigenous community, the ability to work in a culturally safe manner is important so that there is an understanding of the particular community’s world view, and culture. Such understandings are important to prevent stigmatising cultural practices or designing infrastructure that is incompatible with Indigenous ways of living.

Therefore, the definition of the child welfare system has to be broad to include all reasons, both personal and systemic, that result in the maltreatment of Indigenous children as well as incorporating the diverse Indigenous worldviews. Without that broad conception or

Aboriginal “birds eye view” any consideration of the implications of Martu child rearing on the child welfare system will simply focus on the personal and will ignore, the family, the

Aboriginal community, the government.

Impetus for the Research

The impetus for this research topic comes from a number of sources. Firstly, the implementation of the recommendations of the Gordon et al (2002) report Putting the

22 Picture Together: Inquiry into the Response by Government Agencies to Complaints of

Family Violence and Child Abuse in Aboriginal Communities. At the time the report was released, I was working in the remote desert settlement of Balgo (Wirrimanu) in the

Kutjungka region. Life in this place was bleak, because of the neglect of the region, by all levels of government. Both the document, and the will of government, provided me with a sense of hope, as it seemed to be a time of possibility of doing things differently in the area of Indigenous child welfare.

The second impetus for this research came from learning about the concept of

“Kanyininpa”, or holding, as used by Ralph Folds in his book Crossed Purposes (2001:42).

McCoy (2002:6) also used this concept in his paper If we come together our health will be happy: Aboriginal men seeking ways to better health and then his PhD Thesis (2004). This concept was originally used by Myers (1986) in Pintubi Country Pintubi Self. The concept defines the practice by which children “are nurtured with authority” (McCoy:2004:28-29) by their extended Indigenous family. This practice is a distinctive Indigenous approach to ensuring the wellbeing of their children.

The third impetus is the level of over representation of Indigenous children in the child protection system. The Australian Institute of Health and Welfare’s (2008:28) Child Abuse

Report for 2006 – 7 depressingly concludes that;

In 2006–07 in all jurisdictions, except Tasmania, the substantiation rate for

Indigenous children was higher than the rate for other children. Across Australia,

Indigenous children were more than 5 times as likely as other children to be the

subject of substantiation.

23

A review by Ford (2007) of the then Department for Community Development also provides a current picture of the over representation of Indigenous children in care in

Western Australia. The Review of the Department for Community Development (Ford:

2007:58) comments that;

One of the most significant challenges facing the child protection system in Western

Australia (and across the country) is the over-representation of Aboriginal children

and young people in the system. They make up 38% of the children and young

people in care and a large proportion of the clients receiving services and support

through the Department.

The fourth impetus is the suggestion by the Bringing Them Home Report (HREOC:1997) that the level of over representation of Indigenous children in the child protection system is due to a systematic bias that pathologises Indigenous child rearing practices and culture.

This suggested a need to explore Indigenous child rearing practices and beliefs with an

Indigenous group or organisation.

Finally, Ngangganawili Aboriginal Health Service’s agreement to sponsor the research on

Indigenous child rearing provided the specific focus for the research. As the dominant

Indigenous group in the town of Wiluna is Martu, the research focuses on the way they bring up their children. As a result, the research is centred on the Ngangganawili

Aboriginal Health Service (Ngangganawili) in Wiluna and their Children’s and Family

Centre. Ngangganawili is a prominent Indigenous organisation in Wiluna and it provides health and medical services to all the residents in the shire including the mining industry. It

24 is one of a few Indigenous community controlled health services in Australia with this responsibility. It operates in a distinctive Martu manner that has continued to grow and thrive over a fifteen year period, whilst a number of other Martu organisations have failed.

The Researcher

My first experience in an Indigenous setting involved working at a hotel in Onslow

(situated on the north west coast about 2,000 kms north of Perth) in 1976. This exposed me to the poverty experienced by Indigenous people, the racism towards Indigenous people, which, was both structural and personal, and the strength of the local Indigenous people. In the last thirty years, I have mainly worked with and for Indigenous people around Western

Australia. Recently, the insights provided by moving outside the comfort of Government employment and being employed by Mercy Care (Catholic Church agency) to manage the remote area primary health care service in the Kutjungka region situated 300 kms south of

Halls Creek provided an important impetus for seeing that the largely government run

Indigenous Affairs system was failing Indigenous people. I was left with a feeling that there had to be a better way of working with Indigenous people and assisting them to address the life issues within their communities.

The mainly Kukatja, Walmatjari, and Gidja peoples living in the three communities in the

Kutjungka region provided me with many opportunities to learn about their life, culture and world view. Some people, in particular, patiently took the time to help me understand their ways of working which seemed to be different in each of the three communities. I was able

25 to begin to understand their pre-European contact culture and its meanings, their post contact history, individual people’s dreams and desires, and their concerns. These insights moved my focus away from the perceived problems within the region to the strengths of the local people and their ways of working. For example, it was a struggle to get local people involved in well meaning government sponsored programs imposed from Perth and

Canberra such as environmental health, however, in contrast the seasonal Law ceremonies that were of great importance to local people involved the mobilisation of large groups of local people who were fed, and transported around a large region. Similarly, the Warlayirti

Arts Centre operated within the control of local people and was very successful. There was a sense that the parts of life in the region that were in the full control of the Indigenous people and were part of their culture operated very successfully. Other aspects of the

European world that were useful to the pursuit of the local goals such as motor vehicles were embraced for their use and functionality rather than status. In contrast, those programs, activities, and imperatives imposed on the local people, that were not embraced or incorporated into local culture were not successful. At this time Fold’s (2001) work,

Crossed Purposes became very important as it described and analysed the similar setting to that of the Kutjungka region with his work with the Pintubi. Finally, I began to learn the importance of establishing sincere trust based relationships with the Indigenous people in the remote setting of the Kutjungka. It seemed as if relationships whether they were family, classificatory or friendships, were the vehicle or the currency for life in the region.

Without a relationship with a group of people, nothing could be achieved.

These and other insights were placed into context with the State Government’s implementation of the Gordon Inquiry recommendations and the Commonwealth

Government’s implementation of the Council on Australian Government’s Priority

26 Indigenous Communities Project. Both of these projects involved a new focus on inter- agency coordination and cooperation and involved many meetings, visits to the regions of people from Perth and Canberra and a promise of an increase in funding and services for the region. What resulted, from my perspective, was much talking and not much listening by the representatives of these agencies and in the end not much improvement for the people.

The research project’s location in Wiluna provided a unique opportunity to reflect on my past work with Indigenous people. For a year in the early 1980s, I worked as a social worker for the then Department of Community Welfare and based Meekatharra. I worked in Wiluna in that time and did so from the basis of ignorance of the history of the town, of

Martu culture and their post contact history. I suspect that I, along with those who went before me and who followed me in the ‘welfare’ simply operated from the assumption of the superiority of White culture. I certainly was not orientated to the region or the Martu by the Department and like many social workers at that time was shown the ‘deep end and expected to swim’.

Research Focus

The research project was originally conceived as a comparative study of Indigenous child rearing practices, beliefs, and values, across three sites, urban, rural, and remote. The initial fieldwork visit to Wiluna (the remote site) in April 2006 was the first test of the practicality of the research design and subject. The contact with, and the advice of the

27 Ngangganawili staff, the Martu people in Wiluna, and the nature of the town showed that what was thought to be a realistic proposal was in fact too large and unachievable within the time and resources allowed by the PhD process and the researcher’s resources.

This visit provided a number of important and pivotal areas of guidance for the research.

They are:

• Relationships had to be established with Indigenous people before the research

could commence;

• Child rearing is a sensitive research subject. I had been naïve thinking Indigenous

people would simply open up to me about the way they had been brought up, but

the first contact with people showed that this would take a number of conversations

over a period of time;

• I had been unrealistic in thinking that I could collect the information around the

bringing up of children in two or three interviews.

• The development of a child welfare approach using an action research model in one

area was a major project in itself;

As a result, I reviewed the scope of the research and decided to concentrate on the site of

Wiluna and I revised the research questions. The research asks about the implications for the child welfare system of;

• Martu definitions of terms to do with families and child welfare.

• Martu concerns for their children’s welfare.

28 • Martu ways of addressing their concerns about their children’s welfare.

• A Martu model of child welfare.

The direction established by the first visit to Wiluna also had an impact on the approach taken in the research with regard to theory and design. The research context of Martu culture and practices and the perceived realities of working in Wiluna clearly suggested that the theoretical approach and the resulting methodology had to be flexible and open to

Indigenous control and influence.

Theoretical Approach

My age, gender and race that is being middle aged, White and male and the subject of my research clearly position me as an outsider. As Denzin and Lincoln (2000:17) point out,

“there is no clear window into the inner life of an individual. Any gaze is always filtered through the lenses of language, gender, social class, race, and ethnicity.” Accordingly, my research is ‘filtered’ through and impacted upon by my biases, history, race, and gender.

The research is informed by and draws on the lessons learnt from working with Indigenous people. Not only have I learnt much in the past years, I have also found through the research journey that there is still much to know.

Indigenous writers and theorists such as Foley (2003) and Rigney (1997,1999) provided much needed guidance on research in an Indigenous context. Foley (2003:45) makes the

29 distinction between Western and Indigenous research. He writes “In Western discourse, theory requires a philosophical stance that informs the methodology, which in turn provides a context in the process that grounds its own logic and criteria.” He contrasts the Western approach with a quote from Rigney (1999) who says, “Indigenous peoples in Australia and the Pacific must look to new anti-colonial epistemologies and methodologies to construct rediscover and/or re-affirm their knowledge and cultures.” In doing so, he suggests that there is, or needs to be a unique Indigenous paradigm.

Rigney (1997:118-119), has commenced the development of the Australian Indigenous research paradigm and has formulated what he calls Indigenist research. It is defined as;

research by Indigenous Australians whose primary informants are Indigenous

Australians and whose goals are to serve and inform the Indigenous struggle for

self-determination.

As Indigenist Research takes the standpoint of an Indigenous person, as a non-Indigenous

Australian I cannot adopt this theoretical approach. Therefore, in this research, I adopt the term Indigenous Research, to describe research carried out by a non-Indigenous person with Indigenous people in a manner consistent with Indigenist Research.

The Indigenist/Indigenous writers and theorists Foley (2003), Ladson-Billings (1998,

2000), Moreton-Robinson (1999, 2000, 2004, 2006a, 2006b), Rigney (1996, 1997, 1999),

Smith (1999) and others have heavily influenced the theoretical position of the research.

Rigney bases his work on critical theory and I follow him in this regard and use a critical approach. He says (1997:120) he adapted “tools from critical theory and critical social

30 sciences to inform (his) Indigenist research” because “critical theory is guided by a vision for a more just world.” I adopt the TribalCrit approach of Brayboy (2005) as his approach recognises that the CRT approach is based on the civil rights movement in the US rather than the experiences of Tribal people.

It is in this context of conducting research with Martu in Wiluna that Lincoln and Denzin’s

(2000:1050) “Crisis of Representation” becomes most important. They ask the question,

“Can we ever hope to speak authentically of the experience of the ‘Other’ or of an

‘Other’?” So, how can I as a White male researcher hope to speak authentically of the experience of the Martu? Lincoln and Denzin suggest including the ‘Other’ in the larger research processes by using participatory and collaborative methodologies, and by training

‘Others’ in research practices, by using techniques that allow the Other to speak for themselves. The use of methodologies to include the “Other” (the Martu) will be dealt with in greater depth in the next chapter.

Research Setting

This research project is firmly based within the Indigenous world of the Martu in Wiluna.

It involves a non-Indigenous researcher working with and for Martu and their Indigenous community controlled health service Ngangganawili. Ngangganawili sponsored the research, as it was consistent with their development plans for their Parenting and Early

Childhood Centre. The Centre was developed in response to concerns expressed by

Ngangganawili’s committee around the preparation of their Tjitji (children) for school and the poor care by some Walta of their Tjitji. They asked their staff to apply for funding and

31 develop the Ngangganawili Parenting and Early Childhood Centre (kids centre). When the research commenced, they had been working on the kids centre project for eighteen months and had attracted funding for the buildings and staffing costs, built the centre and had commenced operations. This research project forms part of the second stage of the

Centre’s development and represents a further step in addressing the Martu concerns for their children.

During the first visit to Wiluna, Martu said that the topic of child rearing was a personal subject suggesting that a level of confidentiality was required. During the field work,

Martu talked about how they were brought up and some asked that their stories be kept confidential. This is especially important, as Wiluna is a small town where everyone seems to know each other’s business. People are closely related and therefore disclosure of some personal information would lead to the discovery of people’s identity. In this time, it became clear that there was a significant degree of tension within and between family groups. This was manifested in a number of violent intra and inter-family disputes, which provided ample evidence of the conflicts that exist in Wiluna. This reinforced the need to maintain these confidences and to respect people’s privacy. As I was aiming to develop a

‘Martu view’ rather than to tell individual Martu stories, I aggregated stories through a process of layering each account to establish similar patterns. In areas of sensitivity, the

Martu voice that is heard is that of the group rather than the individual. This approach has tended to homogenize the Martu voice, in that it does not allow for some individual voices to be heard, and opens the door to researcher interpretation of the aggregated stories, however the protection of privacy and confidentiality of the many Martu who participated in the research is assured.

32 The continual portrayal by the media of Indigenous families, especially during 2007, in the lead up to the announcement of the Northern Territory Intervention Force, as being hopeless and uncaring is in direct contrast to the way Martu actively care for their Tjitji.

Tjitji are cherished and are central to their Walta’s concern for the future. The ‘kids centre’ is a clear manifestation of their concern.

Wiluna Martu

All reference to Martu refers to those Indigenous people who live in the town of Wiluna and who identify themselves as Martu. Martu meaning man, is the name for a broad

Indigenous regional grouping for the areas around Wiluna, Jigalong and extending as far north as Lake Disappointment. Berndt and Berndt (1992:36) argue that the term has a similar purpose to that of Yamitji (jamadji - meaning friend) who are people from the adjoining region West of Wiluna and the Wongi (meaning speech) who are people from the adjoining region to the south of Wiluna. They go on to say that these regional “labels” are a result of “alien impact” and a break down of culture. These are not “tribal names” or dialect groups and they are “used to signify people of Aboriginal descent as contrasted with

White people.” (Berndt and Berndt:1992:36) The frequency and currency of the use of these “labels” by Indigenous people in the region suggests that they have been adopted as the regional names for the various dialect groups from that region. Wiluna informants talked of themselves as being Wiluna Martu, and distinguished themselves from other desert Indigenous groups.

Martu is therefore used in this thesis to mean the region that includes the dialect groups of

Kartudjara (Gadudjara); Keiadjara; Madoitja; Potidjara (Budidjara) language groups

33 (Department of Indigenous Affairs: 2004). Sackett (1977:90) adds the groups Mandjildjara

(which is the predominant dialect in Wiluna), Bidjandjadjara, Giyadjara and Wanman to this list. Wiluna Martu specifically refers to those Mandjildjara and Potidjara (Budidjara) speaking Martu who live in Wiluna.

Wiluna Martu relate to Ngurra (or come from areas) away from the town of Wiluna to the north and the east. Martu as the Indigenous majority in Wiluna are not the traditional owners of the country in and around the town. They were not able to identify the language group who were the original traditional owners of the Wiluna area. The anthropologist

Tonkinson (prefers the spelling Mardu) who has a long history with the Mardu (personal communication:2006), confirmed this observation.

Throughout this thesis, I rely heavily on the work of Tonkinson with the Mardu in Jigalong and its associated settlements. I do so because the Mardu in Jigalong are closely related to the Martu in Wiluna and whilst they share the same Ngurra and Tjukurrpa their post contact histories differ. Jigalong was a ration then a mission (Evangelical Church) station and is now an Indigenous settlement. Wiluna is a town with a hotel and town based infrastructure. The Seventh Day Adventist Church was the dominant missionary group in the town. I also hold Tonkinson’s work in high regard as he has worked as an anthropologist with the Mardu for over thirty five years and retains a strong relationship with these people. Recently he assisted them in their successful Native Title Claim.

According to the Martu in Wiluna, he is well respected by them and their relatives in

Jigalong. The Martu comments about Tonkinson reflected what Priest et al (2007:62) describe in their project Warriki Jarrinjaku (the Warriki Report) as Warriki Jarrinjaku

Jintangkamanu Purananjaku where “Anangu, Yapa and Kardiya (non-Aboriginal people,

34 non-Yapa, non-Anangu) listen deeply and respectfully to each other, when they take care of each other and build trusted relationships over time.”

Reference to the Western Australian Tindale Tribal Boundaries Map on the Department of

Indigenous Affairs web site seems to indicate that the original owners of the Wiluna area were the Ngaiawongga dialect group (See attachment One and Three for the relevant

Tindale maps). Whilst nothing recorded about the fate of the Ngaiawongga in the Wiluna area there is evidence from other areas, which suggest that they died out and other groups moved into the vacant country. Liberman (1980:125-6) records the situation for the

Kuwarra (or according to Tindale Koara dialect group from the country to the south of

Wiluna between Leonora and Yeerlirie) as does Kolig (1977) (for the Fitzroy River area) where the traditional owners from an area declined to unsustainable levels and desert groups moved into their territory. A more current Indigenous group map developed by the

Australian Institute of Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Studies can be found at

Attachment Four.

Anthropologists, Sackett (1978:38), and Tonkinson (1974:24) (2006:5) comment that

Western Desert people who migrated to fringe towns in the desert had little intention of becoming permanent residents but became reliant on the benefits of settlement life and were reluctant to resume the more arduous desert life. Tonkinson (2006:5) records; “One man’s assertion that we were captured by flour and sugar”.

There is no single way of being Martu. However, there are shared realities and shared groupings, some with set memberships whilst others are changeable. The membership of the group Martu, as with the dialect group is not exclusive and can include other groupings.

35 For example, a person can identify as Martu at times, at others “a mix between Martu and

Ngaanyatjarra” reflecting the birth places of their parents.

Town of Wiluna

Wiluna is a small town situated approximately 1,000 kms north-east of Perth and 500 kms north of Kalgoorlie (see map at attachment 7). It has a population of about 500 people and approximately 450 of these are Martu. Wiluna can only be described as an Indigenous or

‘black’ town with over 95% of the resident population being Indigenous. The Shire of

Wiluna has a population of approximately 1,000 people. Essentially, Wiluna is a Martu town situated amongst a number of existing and future mine sites. These mining enterprises may be based in the Shire but do not really participate in the area’s life, as all their requirements are transported into the region and their staff only fly in to work.

The Martu live within their domain, which has evolved from the pre-European contact time when there was no other domain. The concept of domain is discussed in more detail in

Chapter 4. The Martu domain contains those elements of their life that are within their exclusive control, their Walta, Tjukurrpa, and Ngurra. The Martu domain was suggested by the actions of the Martu during the period of the fieldwork. Tonkinson (1978, 2006) also names and describes a Mardu domain in Jigalong. The importance of the Martu domain is that it serves to maintain Martu culture and Tjukurrpa. It also refers to that space and place where Martu children are able to grow up immersed in their own culture until they have to leave and attend school. It prepares them well for being Martu but does not address the pressures that arise from the surrounding shared domain and the dominant

36 White domain. The Martu domain is situated within the dominant White domain and the contested domain where White-Martu business is conducted.

There have been many State and Commonwealth Government reforms since the 1990s, which have served to reduce the power of the White residents of Wiluna. These reforms include external monitoring by bodies such as the State Ombudsman and the Equal

Opportunity Commission, of agencies such as the Shire, Police, and to a lesser extent the school, to ensure that they provide access to and the same level of services to all residents.

In the past, localised racism resulted in over policing of the Martu, preferential treatment by local government to Whites and especially to station owners, refusal to provide services at the old hospital and the maintenance of ‘White’ and ‘black’ bars at the hotel. There is still overt racism against the Martu by some of the non-Indigenous people in the town and this is often evidenced in the local Shire Council meetings. (Personal communication with a councilor)

It needs to be stressed, that for most Martu families their history of contact with non-

Indigenous people started in the last sixty years. As a result, their pre-contact culture, language, and customs are still largely intact. Cowlishaw (1999:303) maintains that,

“Colonialism is about severance of healthy connections between the land and its people and the replacement of disrespectful connections with land and a contrived, forced and damaged connection between privileged and non-privileged groups of people.” She “sadly acknowledged the efficacy and longevity of Australian colonialism”, claiming; “there is nothing ‘post’ about this colonial situation”. Martu are still being colonised as a people.

The situation in Wiluna may well be “neo-colonial” (Ashcroft et al:162) in that it is part of a global process of domination of Indigenous peoples and the exploitation of the mineral

37 resources in their land, by global mining companies rather than other countries. However, from the Martu perspective, it does not matter whether the process is continuing colonisation or neo colonisation. The concern is the mining industry has provided few benefits for the Martu apart from those arising from Native Title type agreements. The immense wealth both from the minerals and the highly paid jobs are exported from the region.

Conclusion

This introduction serves to tell the story of the development of the research project, to orientate the reader to the researcher and the research philosophy, and to introduce the

Martu and the town of Wiluna. The familiarisation process is designed to encourage the reader to approach the Martu, their stories and life with a fresh view.

This research considers the Wiluna Martu to be a distinctive group of Indigenous people with their own worldview and experiences, which requires the reader to recognise that their prior knowledge of other Indigenous groups may not be consistent with Martu Law, culture and history.

This research project explores the tension between Indigenous culture and worldview and the White worldview of the child welfare system, through description of Martu child rearing practices and beliefs examines the implications of these ‘Martu ways’ for the wider child welfare service provision system. It adopts an Indigenous research approach based on

38 the work of Indigenist and Indigenous theorists. It utilises a Critical Theory and Brayboy’s

(2005) TribalCrit approach, which is promoted by the Indigenous theorists because of its emancipatory intent. The researcher brings a long history of working with and for

Indigenous people and adopts a position that talks of strengths rather than deficits in Martu life. Finally, the research context of the Martu and Wiluna is described to ensure that their uniqueness is understood.

Outline of the Chapters

Indigenous Research

Chapter 2 outlines the theoretical approach adopted by the research project and the research methodology. The approach adopted is an Indigenous research approach that is informed by Indigenist Research, Critical Theory, and TribalCrit. In this chapter, I argue that it is possible for a non-Indigenous researcher to conduct research in partnership with and for

Indigenous people in a way that is consistent with and informed by an Indigenist research approach. Of importance is that there has to be a sincere and strong research relationship between the Indigenous people and the researcher.

Indigenous Child Rearing

Chapter 3 examines the child rearing practices of Indigenous groups in Australia and overseas in particular the Sami from Norway, Palauan, and First Nations Peoples from

Canada, in order to place the Martu ways of rearing their children into a broader framework

39 of difference. This information is drawn from a comprehensive review of the literature on the way other Indigenous groups bring up their children.

Wiluna Martu Domain

Chapter 4 describes the concept of the Indigenous domain and applies it to the context of the Martu in Wiluna. The Wiluna Martu Domain has changed over time. It has evolved from the precontact times and has continued to change in response to pressure from the dominant culture. History of the Wiluna Martu Domain focuses on the periods prior to contact with Europeans and after contact. As such, it endeavours to tell the history of the area from a Martu perspective and describes the evolution of the Martu, White, and contested domains. It covers the structure and life of the Martu prior to contact, the comparatively recent period after contact with Europeans and covers the various pathways taken by Martu in settling in Wiluna and the consequences for the Martu families of moving to the town.

Martu Child Rearing

Chapter 5 documents the stories told by the Martu in response to the research question.

Their stories and their life in Wiluna showed that Martu have their own distinct values, beliefs, and ways of bringing up their children.

40 Implications of Martu Child Rearing for the Child Welfare System

Chapter 6 examines the implications of Martu child rearing practices, beliefs and values for the child welfare system. It takes the information revealed in the stories told by Martu about child rearing and using a TribalCrit framework examines their implications for the broadly defined child welfare system.

Conclusion

The Conclusion considers the meaning of the information revealed by the Martu in Wiluna about their child rearing practices, beliefs, and values. It reviews the impact of the Njanji family story and that told in Cleared Out (Davenport et al: 2005). It then assesses the implications of these and proposes an alternative child welfare approach sympathetic to

Wiluna Martu culture and beliefs.

41

42

Chapter Two Indigenous Research

“Indigenous voice to be heard and believed”

(Bennett and Blackstock:2002:16).

Introduction

The research approach used in this project is designed to privilege the distinctive life of the

Martu in Wiluna, including their worldview and voice. It is argued that the theoretical approach has to treat Indigenous knowledge with respect and belief. This research approach challenges the Western worldview and research approaches and prefers the approach of Indigenous theorists and researchers. The research adopts a critical theoretical approach because of its emancipatory values and utilises Brayboy’s (2005) TribalCrit to understand the implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system.

The research asks about the implications for the child welfare system of, Martu definitions of terms to do with families and child welfare, Martu concerns for their children’s welfare,

Martu ways of addressing their concerns about their children’s welfare and a Martu model of child welfare.

The theoretical and methodological basis of this research project is guided by the context of the Martu, and by Indigenous theorists from Australia (Foley:2003; Moreton-

43 Robinson:1999, 2000, 2004, 2006a, 2006b; Rigney:1996, 1997, 1999) Canada (Bennett and

Blackstock:2002), USA (Hermes:1998; Warrior:1999), Hawaii (Louis:2006; Meyer:2001),

New Zealand (Bishop and Glynn:1999; Smith:1999), and Palau (Gegeo and Watson-

Gegeo:2001). The research adopts an Indigenist/Indigenous research approach (these terms are defined in the next section) based on Indigenous paradigms.

These Indigenous scholars challenge much of the theory and methodologies that form the

Western research tradition. Their goal is to establish Indigenous theory and methodologies that are based on their own Indigenous worldview, which will ensure that their voice is heard and believed. As a result, there is no single Indigenous/Indigenist paradigm generally or specifically either internationally or in Australia. Some of these Indigenous writers choose to base (but not completely adopt) their research on theory and research approaches that embrace Indigenous worldviews and are emancipatory in intent.

The incompatibility between Western and Martu research was exposed during my first field trip to Wiluna. The University context where the planning, reading, and theorising for the research project had taken place contrasts with the Martu context. It became clear that the methodology I had planned to use in Wiluna required substantial revision. Whilst I describe this process later in this chapter, I was intending to use an action research framework and structured interviews but found that this would not work. I had not understood the need to establish relationships with Martu prior to commencing the research.

In order to respond to the unique Indigenous context of the Martu in Wiluna, I sought guidance from Australian Indigenous writes such as Foley (2003) Rigney (1996, 1997,

44 1999), and Moreton Robinson (1999, 2000, 2004, 2006a, 2006b) whose writing is informed by the Australian context. Of these scholars, I found Rigney’s (1997) Indigenist Research approach was the most helpful. Rigney (1997:120) uses tools from Critical Theory to inform his Indigenist Research approach because of its “emancipatory” values. This research thesis adopts a Critical, in particular a TribalCrit (Brayboy:2005:427) approach as it “emphasizes that colonization is endemic to society … while acknowledging the role played by racism” and the need to work for social change for Indigenous peoples.

Even though Rigney (1997) adopts an Indigenist standpoint, which precludes non-

Indigenous people from working from that position, he does recognise a role for non-

Indigenous researchers. The questions around the appropriateness of a white male researching Indigenous child rearing raised two important issues that required a deal of introspection by the researcher. The first relates to the impact of gender and race on the research process and the second issue is whether a non-Indigenous person can or should conduct research with Indigenous people. Both these issues were resolved by seeking advice from the Martu in Wiluna, by referring to the work of Indigenous writers (such as

Rigney, Moreton Robinson) and non-Indigenous researchers with Indigenous people (such as Tonkinson, Cowlishaw, Davenport and Johnson) and by examining my own experience and research position.

Indigenous Research

The combination of the unique context of Martu in Wiluna and the desire to privilege the

Martu worldview leads the research approach for this project to be based on Rigney’s

45 Indigenist Research. Rigney (1997:118 - 119) defines Indigenist research as “research by

Indigenous Australians whose primary informants are Indigenous Australians and whose goals are to serve and inform the Indigenous struggle for self-determination.” As Indigenist

Research is a standpoint theoretical approach, which deals with research by and with

Indigenous people, I could not, as a non-Indigenous person, adopt an Indigenous standpoint. I therefore use the term Indigenous research, which is defined (to paraphrase

Rigney), as research where the “primary informants are Indigenous”, where there is a commitment to conduct research with Indigenous people as co-researchers, partners, and as managers/controllers of the research process and “whose goals are to serve and inform the Indigenous struggle for self-determination.”

Rigney’s definition of Indigenist Research requires that the research be undertaken by

Indigenous Australians. By changing ‘undertaken’ to conduct research with Indigenous people as co-researchers, partners, and as managers/controllers of the research process, it recognises as he does the contribution of non-Indigenous researchers. The principle of

Indigenous community control of the research process is complex and is addressed in the later part of this chapter. Without Indigenous community control, in its many forms, the

Indigenous subjects of a research project are powerless. I experienced this as a site of tension between the demands of the University and the Indigenist/Indigenous research approach. The former insisted that it retains the ultimate control of the research process but the latter demands the Indigenous community’s control.

This research approach draws extensively on the work of Rigney (1997:118) who says

“Indigenist Research offers three core, inter-related principles: Resistance (as the emancipatory imperative); political integrity; and privileging Aboriginal and Torres Strait

46 Islander voices.” Rigney’s (1997:118) first principle “resistance” emphasises that research should “support the personal, community, cultural and political struggles of Indigenous

Australians”. In his second principle, political integrity, Rigney (1997:118) asserts that the

“research has to be undertaken by Indigenous Australians”, but he acknowledges and recognises the research contributions of non-Indigenous Australians to this struggle. He goes on to add that, “It is, however, inappropriate that the research contribution to the political cause should come solely from non-Indigenous Australians.” The final principle of privileging Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander voices in Indigenous research ensures that the focus is “on the lived, historical experiences, ideas, traditions, dreams, interests, aspirations, and struggles of Indigenous Australians.” The research approach of this project incorporates these principles with my modification of the second principle to a commitment to conduct research with Indigenous people as co-researchers, partners, and as managers/controllers of the research process.

Whilst Rigney does not discuss “Indigenous philosophy” in his definition of Indigenist

Research, it underlies his position and this Indigenous research approach. Usefully, Foley

(2003:46) enunciates “Indigenous philosophy” as having “three interacting worlds”.

“The physical world is the base that is land. The land is the mother, and we are of

the land. We do not own the land the land owns us. The land is our food, our

culture, our spirit and our identity. The human world encapsulates the land the sky

and all living organisms. The human world involves the knowledge, approaches to

people, family, rules of behaviour, ceremonies, and their capacity to change. The

sacred world is not based entirely on the metaphysical, as some would believe. Its

foundation is in healing (both spiritual and physical well being of all creatures) the

47 lore (the retention and re-enforcement of oral history) care of country, the laws and

their maintenance.”

Foley’s Indigenous philosophy is consistent with the Martu worldview, which stresses the importance and centrality of Ngurra – the land, Tjukurrpa – the law and the Dreaming and

Walta – the large extended kin and classificatory family. (Tonkinson (1977, 1978, 1981,

1982, 1988, 1989, 1991, 1999, 2001, 2004, 2006) (Warriki Report by Warriki Jarrinjaku

Jintangkamanu Purananjaku Walpiri). Martu worldview and experiences distinguishes them from White Australians and other Indigenous groups. Indigenous research privileges the Martu worldview and accords it the same respect as Western research accords its worldview.

Aileen Moreton-Robinson (1999:1) like a number of other Indigenous writers and academics, insists that research with or by Indigenous people on Indigenous matters needs to be “conducted in a manner consistent with an Indigenous worldview, that Indigenous research is uniquely different to Western research and that Indigenous research needs to be de-colonised.” Ladson-Billings (2000:257 - 77) adds to the discussion and argues that epistemology is linked intimately to worldview and that;

worldviews and systems of knowledge are symbolic – that is, how one views the

world is influenced by what knowledge one possesses, and what knowledge one is

capable of possessing and is deeply influenced by ones worldview.

Gegeo and Watson-Gegeo (2001:58) Native Pacific Islanders define “indigenous epistemology” as a;

48

cultural group’s ways of thinking and of creating, re-formulating, and theorizing

about knowledge via traditional discourses and media of communication, anchoring

the truth of the discourse in culture.

In a similar vein, Foley (2003:47) concludes that; “Western epistemology differs from

Indigenous Australian epistemology in that Indigenous Australians already know the origin, nature, methods and limits of their knowledge systems.” In comparison, Western epistemology relies on scientific style inquiry to discover and prove the facts, and is constantly challenging knowledge expanding the boundaries of what is known and unknown.

Nakata (2004:12) effectively summarises the Indigenous view of research on Indigenous issues operating in Australia in saying;

When we talk of cultural traditions we talk of them as constructed through

anthropology, when we study Indigenous life stories, we study them as an addition

to the Western literary or history tradition, when we speak of Native Title, it is via

another system of land ownership, when we talk of traditional language

revitalisation we talk of language as described by linguistics and disembodied from

its community of speakers. All knowledge that is produced about us and all

knowledge that we produce ourselves is added to the Western corpus, gets re-

organised and studied via the disciplines of Western knowledge.

49 It has been a difficult exercise to arrive at a epistemology that privileges Martu ways of working and seeing and Indigenous approaches, meets the requirement for a community benefit from the research, meets the often opposing requirements of the academy, appreciates the new knowledge and understandings, and accommodates my own perspective influenced by years of work with Indigenous people. Hermes (1998:156), an

American First Nations woman reflecting on writing her PhD, also experienced many of these tensions. She writes that she was “forced … to create a research methodology that was inspired by traditions” that included the “traditional Ojibwe culture” as well as “the culture of University of Wisconsin-Madison’s graduate school”.

The tensions between the academy and the Indigenous world experienced by Hermes

(1998) are felt by a number of Indigenous scholars. Louis (2006:130) an Indigenous

Hawaiian expresses the view that research on Indigenous issues “naturally challenges

Western research paradigms”. She points out the tension between the community and the academy when she stresses the importance of community benefit saying “For many

Indigenous peoples, ‘knowledge for knowledge sake [is] a waste of time’.” [I interpret this as research solely for the academy being a waste of time]. Louis (2006:130) argues, “If research does not benefit the community by extending the quality of life for those in the community, it should not be done”.

May (1997:36) suggests that the basis of the tension between the academy and the

Indigenous world, and between Western and Indigenous knowledge, is the result of “a certain type of knowledge predominates[ing] in a society” because of “the power that certain groups have to define what is right or wrong or true or false.” Importantly, May

(1997:36) recommends, “Theorising about this state of affairs must take place within a

50 democratic and participatory situation, otherwise it will become like the practice of science itself, another way of regarding the experiences of particular people as faulty.” May’s position is important as it takes the discussion away from the abstracted theoretical positivist constructionist debate and positions it in a ‘real life’ discussion of power.

Poirier (2005:9) considers that, “non-modern societies, such as the Australian Aborigines, continue to challenge and resist the hegemony of the modernist and dualist mode of thought and the way of being in the world.” Currently, this challenge comes from a number of

Indigenous writers and academics from a range of cultures such as Foley (2003), Ladson-

Billings (1998, 2000), Moreton-Robinson (1999, 2000, 2004, 2006a, 2006b), Rigney (1996,

1997, 1999), Smith (1999) and others, who resist this “hegemony” and have developed specific Indigenous/Indigenist research approaches.

Rigney (1997:114) suggests that, “a racialised research industry still prevails in Australia”.

He also links racism and colonialism in research saying, “Research methodologies and the protocols in knowledge construction in my country is the way the colonizers constructed it”. Bishop and Glynn (1999:168) concur arguing that “Western based research has undervalued and belittled Maori knowledge and learning practices and processes in order to enhance those of the coloniser, and adherents to neo-colonial paradigms.”

Indigenous writers argue that Western research acts to diminish Indigenous people by pathologising or problematising them. For example, Louis (2007:131) is of the opinion that

“Western research methods that have found us deficient either as genetically inferior or culturally deviant for generations”, and that “We have been dismembered, objectified, and problematised via Western scientific rationality and reason.” Bishop and Glynn (1999:168)

51 share the same view and comment that, “A social pathology research approach” has

“implied that Maori culture was inferior in human terms to that of the colonisers.”

These Indigenous scholars contend that there is a need for an Indigenous research approach based on Indigenous epistemology and that it should be based on specific Indigenous worldviews. Each group’s worldview differs as does each scholar, but they are clear that that Western epistemologies and ontologies pathologise and problemise Indigenous cultures and are as a result inherently colonialist and racist.

The process of the development of an Australian Indigenist/Indigenous paradigm has created two levels of difficulty for my work. The first is as Rigney (1997:110) says “I wish it were the case that we had a rich field of Indigenous Australian intellectual theorizing of research epistemologies on which to draw. Unfortunately we do not.” He continues,

(1997:120) “I am not also claiming that Indigenist research is characterised by any distinctive models or strategies. Such distinctive models and strategies may evolve over time.” The difficulties experienced by Indigenous researchers and theorists in working within an academic system that is dominated by Western epistemologies are understood.

These surfaced (even though I am not Indigenous) as the second level of difficulty for me.

I have had to overcome the research habits grounded in years of Western research methods training, forget bad habits of practice, and begin to understand the many subtleties of the

Indigenous research setting. It is clear from the work of the Indigenous researchers referred to above that there is considerable tension between their desire to privilege their Indigenous worldviews and approaches and Western academia that prefers and privileges its own research approaches.

52 The Researcher

The issues of researcher gender and race, is another contested area in this research. The tension referred to by the American Indian scholar, Hermes (1998) between the academy and the Indigenous setting is manifested in this instance. The academic advice, on one hand, emphasised the effect of my gender and race on the research process and, while, the

Martu were more concerned about the quality of my relationship with them.

I had approached this research and work with the Martu with a level of certainty and confidence based on my years of work with Indigenous people and the relationships developed in that time. In hindsight, this confidence was misplaced as I had not considered my race and gender to be an issue.

As a result I began a series of conversations with my supervisors, researchers with experience in working with Martu (such as Tonkinson, Davenport and Johnson),

Indigenous people in Wiluna both Martu and non-Martu, and workers with Indigenous people. I also researched the subject. These discussions and research seemed to identify issues of working safely within a culture and the impact of a non-indigenous researcher interpreting and making meanings of Indigenous people’s stories. The dialogue around the impact of my race and gender continued throughout the fieldwork. In a later stage of the fieldwork, I found it difficult to encourage Martu to talk about sensitive subjects, and the suggestion was that the reluctance of Martu to talk with me about these issues was a response to my gender and race. Both Tonkinson (1991:17) and Davenport (2003:104) had identified this as an issue their own research with Martu in Jigalong. Tonkinson described

53 the Martu response as an “unwillingness to introspect”. I also talked to one of the authors,

Johnson (I refer to and quote him with his permission), about the reticence by the Martu to share feelings and it was his view that it was not an artefact of my gender or race but of the strength of my relationship with Martu. The length of time spent with the Martu during the research was insufficient for these confidences as, it is his experience that it takes many years of friendship with Martu to establish this level of trust.

It is clear that there are Indigenous academics, such as Rigney (1997) who promote the ideal of Indigenous people researching Indigenous people. However, Rigney also recognises the contribution of non-Indigenous researchers. Louis (2007) an Indigenous

Hawaiian, says that she “would much rather see non-Indigenous researchers working with

Indigenous communities possessing the tools they need to ensure that their research agendas are ‘sympathetic, respectful, and ethical from an Indigenous perspective’.”

Similarly, Menzies (2001) also considers “that non-Aboriginal social science researchers, can continue to research and write about Indigenous peoples”, but only “if researchers change their approach so it becomes part of decolonisation.”

In thinking about this debate, I was drawn to the work, Holding Yawulyu: White Culture and Black Women’s Law by De Ishtar (2005:xvii), who is of the view that as long as “The

White researcher of Indigenous domains engages with their hosts in ways that honour and respect their Indigenous knowledge processes, their cultural paradigms” that this cross- cultural research is appropriate. She recommends, “checking and rechecking that their hosts continue to give their permission and by remaining flexible to renegotiating the changing needs of the community one is working with.” This approach is endorsed by a

54 prominent Indigenous scholar and writer Judy Atkinson who wrote the Forward to De

Ishtar’s book.

The approach I adopted in this research is a partnership approach much in evidence in

Cleared Out (Davenport et al:2003). This book is an excellent example of the partnership between an Indigenous woman, Yuwali a Mardu woman from Jigalong and non-Indigenous writers Johnson and Davenport. The exclusion of non-Indigenous researchers would have meant that this unique Martu story would not have occurred. For me, Cleared Out shows the benefits of a meaningful and respectful relationship between Indigenous and non-

Indigenous researchers.

The conversations that commenced early in the research process, with those referred to earlier and with the literature, enabled me to address issue about the impact of my gender.

Warren and Hackney (2000:ix,3-6,21) were also very helpful. They emphasise that; “Both the doing and the writing of fieldwork are intertwined with gender (as well as with other cultural and bodily markers – “personality characteristics” such as age, class, ethnicity or sexual identity).” Their advice was that, “gender shapes the interactions in our settings; it shapes entree, trust, research roles, and relationships” and they conclude that:

Fieldwork like all other experiences is an embodied one. We peer through our own

flesh to see the other, and we present our own flesh to the other while we are

engaged in the act of observation – this embodiment has consequences for our

research.

That is, gender is an issue as it affects all aspects of the research project.

55

The important outcome of this process, where I was forced to reflect on my own position and consult widely about the likely influences of my race and gender, was that both could have a significant effect on the research. Previously, I had not considered either an issue.

The issue was one of awareness of the Wiluna Martu context and how my race and gender affected the way I was perceived, how Martu responded, and how I interpreted the stories told by the Martu. It was important to the Martu that I took time to establish relationships, that I understood and believed their Law and culture, and that I was experienced in working with Indigenous people.

With this insight, I ensured that I was constantly checking back with the Martu informants.

This was necessary to make sure that I was correctly interpreting the stories and yarns the people were telling me. Martu made positive comments about the research to employees of

Ngangganawili indicating that they were happy with the way I conducted the research. As a result, I was rewarded with continuing Martu involvement in the research project.

Theory Informing Indigenous Research

Even though Rigney states that the ‘Western research stance is racist’, he says (1997:120) he adapted “tools from critical theory and critical social sciences to inform [his] Indigenist research” because “critical theory is guided by a vision for a more just world.” Rigney says that, “In rejecting positivistic scientific methods critical theory is committed to human emancipation through reforming society.” Rigney sees critical theory as an “ideal foundation to sew the seeds of an Indigenist libratory epistemology”. In taking this

56 position he is suggesting that whilst Critical Theory is an adequate foundation that there is a need to build on this approach and develop a unique Indigenous approach.

Foley (2003:45) agrees with Rigney’s position seeing “Critical Theory” as “emancipatory and liberatory epistemologies.” Foley emphasises that, “[t]They are guided by a vision that there is more than just one worldview and interpretation” and that it “form[s] the foundation of the reconstruction of Indigenous approaches to knowledge”.

Critical theory refers to the “theoretical tradition developed by the Frankfurt School”

(Kincheloe and McLaren:2000:279) in the 1930s. It is based on work of Horkheimer,

Adorno, and Marcuse who “ initiated a conversation with the German tradition of philosophical thought, especially that of Marx, Kant, Hegel, and Weber”, whose “political sensibilities were influenced by the devastation of World War I, post war Germany with its economic depression”. (Kincheloe and McLaren:2000:279) The worldview of the post world war one critical theorist, and for example the Martu worldview based on many thousands of years successful of life in the desert simply cannot be compared.

Not all Indigenous scholars embrace Critical Theory. Champagne (2007:359) a First

Nations American criticises “post-modern and postcolonial interpretations” as there is

“much emphasis on marginalization, generally in materialistic forms, and on emancipation and liberation from oppression”. The basis of this critique is that they are not necessarily

“the goals and values of many indigenous peoples and communities”. He asserts that;

most of the arguments of race, critical theory, class, ethnicity, nation, and post

colonialism make epistemological assumptions usually alien to those made in

57 American Indian communities and traditions” [and says], “it is difficult to say that

any of the theories or conceptualizations can completely express an American

Indian perspective or voice.

This research follows Rigney (1997) and Foley (2003) in adopting a critical theory approach to inform this research approach. However, it seems that the choice of critical theory by Rigney (1997) and Foley (2003) is because it is the least flawed of the Western paradigms. Denzin et al (2008:8) also recognise the limitations of a critical approach in an

Indigenous context and argue that it “undertheorise[s] and diminish[s] the importance of

Indigenous concepts of identity, sovereignty, land, tradition, literacy and language.”

Denzin et al (2008:9), Bishop (1994, 2005) and Smith (1999:185-6) comment;

that critical theory failed to address how Indigenous cultures and their

epistemologies were sites of resistance and empowerment. This criticism, however,

was muted by the commitment of Indigenous scholars to the same values as critical

theory – namely, to resistance and struggle at a local level.

The suggestion is that these Indigenous writers consider critical theory to be a useful approach, but one that is based on non-Indigenous paradigms that will be replaced when

Indigenous paradigms are fully developed. This research would choose an Australian

Indigenous paradigm and research approach because they based on Indigenous "ontologies

(assumptions about the nature of reality), epistemologies (the ways of knowing that reality) and axiologies (the disputational contours of right and wrong or morality and values)"

(Rigney:1997:109), but are not fully present in the literature.

58 Following Rigney and Foley, the critical theory that informs this research is a contemporary critical approach based on Kincheloe’s and McLaren’s work. They (2000:281) define it as a theory that is:

concerned in particular with issues of power and justice and the ways that the

economy, matters of race, class and gender, ideologies, discourses, education,

religion, and other social institutions, and cultural dynamics interact to construct a

social system. In this context critical theory analyses competing power interests

between groups of individuals within a society – identifying who gains and loses in

specific situations.

Those theorists who criticise Critical Theory, according to McLaren and Jaramillo

(2006:73), do so because it is “another example of the colonizing incarnations of the

Western educational canon” and who “have accused it of possessing, among other toxic attributes, an outdated and historically discredited working-class triumphalism premised on vulgar economic reductionism”.

Lynn (2004:153) also identifies concerns about the critical approach saying that, “There has been some debate about whether, as a field of study, Critical Theory adequately incorporates issues of race and racism”.

I too felt that a Critical Theory approach failed to fully appreciate the Indigenous and in particular the Martu context. Whilst its focus on social change remains important that there was a need for a Critical approach that reflected Indigenous worldviews and contexts. One

59 approach is that of Denzin et al (2008:2) “critical Indigenous pedagogy” which is “a merger of Indigenous and critical methodologies.”

It uses methods critically, for explicit social justice purposes. It values the

transformative power of Indigenous, subjugated knowledges. It values the

pedagogical practices that produce these knowledges and it seeks forms of praxis

and inquiry that are emancipatory and empowering.

I considered critical race theory (CRT) for the theoretical basis of this research. However, as Denzin et al (2008:5) warns that critical theory and CRT will not work in Indigenous settings without modification, suggesting that the “criteria for self determination and empowerment perpetuate neo-colonial sentiments while turning the Indigenous person into the essentialised “other” who is spoken for.” Denzin et al (2008:6) recommend that critical theory and CRT must be “localised, grounded in specific meanings, traditions, customs, and community relations that operate in each Indigenous setting.”

Brayboy (2005:428 - 30) an Indigenous American is from the Lumbee Tribe of Carolina in the US. He is also of the opinion that CRT is of limited use for Indigenous or “tribal peoples” because it “was originally developed to address the Civil Rights issues of African

American people.” and “it does not address American Indians’ liminality as both legal/political and racialized beings or the experience of colonization.” In response,

Brayboy developed his Critical approach of “TribalCrit” or Critical Race Theory for the tribal or American Indian context. Brayboy (2005:427) says TribalCrit;

60 is rooted in the multiple, nuanced, and historically- and geographically-located

epistemologies and ontologies found in Indigenous communities. Though they differ

depending on time, space, place, tribal nation, and individual, there appear to be

commonalities in those ontologies and epistemologies. TribalCrit is rooted in these

commonalities while simultaneously recognizing the range and variation that exists

within and between communities and individuals.

The “basic tenet of TribalCrit emphasizes that colonization is endemic to society” rather than racism as in contemporary CRT. By colonization, Brayboy (2005:430) means “that

European American thought, knowledge, and power structures that dominate present-day society in the United States.”

Brayboy (2005:430) outlines “nine tenets of TribalCrit, which can be briefly summarized as follows:”

1. “Colonization is endemic to society.”

2. “U.S. policies toward Indigenous peoples are rooted in imperialism, White supremacy, and a desire for material gain.”

3. “Indigenous peoples occupy a liminal space that accounts for both the political and racialized natures of our identities.”

4. “Indigenous peoples have a desire to obtain and forge tribal sovereignty, tribal autonomy, self-determination, and self-identification.”

5. “The concepts of culture, knowledge, and power take on new meaning when examined through an Indigenous lens.”

61 6. “Governmental policies and educational policies toward Indigenous peoples are intimately linked around the problematic goal of assimilation.”

7. “Tribal philosophies, beliefs, customs, traditions, and visions for the future are central to understanding the lived realities of Indigenous peoples, but they also illustrate the differences and adaptability among individuals and groups.”

8. “Stories are not separate from theory; they make up theory and are, therefore, real and legitimate sources of data and ways of being.”

9. “Theory and practice are connected in deep and explicit ways such that scholars must work towards social change.”

Brayboy’s (2005) “TribalCrit” approach is utilised in this thesis to understand the implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system, because it is close to and understands an Indigenous context. However, Brayboy’s approach requires modification as some of his tenets specifically refer to the political and legal system in the US that is not replicated in the Australian Indigenous context. That is, there were no treaties between

Indigenous people and the colonisers in Australia, and there is not the level of white supremacist organisation in Australia as in the US. TribalCrit also informs the Indigenous research methodology utilised in this project.

Another key aspect of Critical Theory is the position of the researcher and their involvement in the research process. Kincheloe and McLaren (2000:292) maintain,

“Critical researchers must enter into an investigation with their assumptions on the table, so no one is confused concerning the epistemological and political baggage they bring with them to the research site.” Importantly “critical race theory asks the critical qualitative

62 researcher to operate in a self-revelatory mode, to acknowledge the double (or multiple) consciousness in which she or he is operating” (Olesen:2000:272).

Kincheloe and McLaren (2000:283) stress that in “qualitative research there is only interpretation, no matter how vociferously researchers may argue that the facts speak for themselves.” They go on to explain that, “The hermeneutic act of interpretation involves in its most elemental articulation making sense of what has been observed in a way that communicates understanding. Perception itself is an act of interpretation.” Kellner

(1990:25) expands this discussion saying, “Critical theory is thus deeply self-reflexive and self-critical, forcing critical theorists to continually concern themselves with reflections on method and on the nature and effects of a critical social theory.” Kincheloe and McLaren

(2000:283) recommend that;

Despite the impediments of context, hermeneutic researchers can transcend the

inadequacies of thin descriptions of decontexualised facts and produce thick

descriptions of social texts characterised by the contexts of their production, the

intention of the producers, and the meanings mobilised in the process of their

construction.

The process of recording, analysing, and understanding the stories told by the Martu form part of the Indigenous methodologies described in the following section.

63 Research Methodology

Indigenous scholars also guided the development of the research methodology utilised in this project. The principle methodology utilised in this research is the Indigenous methodology of yarning, which is similar to CRT’s story telling. The secondary methodology, participant observation, is used to confirm the patterns that emerge from the

Martu stories.

The guidance of Bishop and Glynn (1999), Hermes (1998), and Louis (2007) and the Martu in Wiluna enabled a research approach to be developed that was consistent with the Martu ways of knowing, met community needs, and provided an impetus for the further development of the Ngangganawili Family Centre. The resulting research approach followed a process that ensured that research relationships were established with the Martu before research questions were explored. When people were asked about how they were brought up and how they brought up their children, they were encouraged to use stories and yarns, which allowed Martu the space to tell their own story in their own way. In response

Martu told stories about their family’s history, how Martu reared their children in the past, how the children are being brought up now, what child-care strategies worked, what

Tjukurpa requires in regards to the care of children. My interest has been in learning about the strengths of Martu culture rather than critically examining issues around child abuse and neglect.

The Indigenous research methods of ‘yarning’ is more than story telling emphasised by

Critical Race Theory. Yeo (2003:296) an Indigenous Australian, introduces the concept of

64 ‘yarning’ or Indigenous story telling and claims that; “It is well known that traditional methods of research such as employing Western interview formats with the Aboriginal people would be ineffective and would not yield in-depth data”. She developed her own approach “based on ‘having a yarn’ with individual Aborigines, using an open-ended interview style, and focusing on the practicalities of rearing children”. Another researcher,

Power (2004:40) says she “discovered the value of yarning as a responsive research methodology”. Power says that yarning is an;

oral technique [that] enables a profound, complex and subtle understanding to

emerge across the contact zone between my academic research methods and their

Indigenous culture by bringing them into discursive relations with each other.

Brayboy’s (2005) eighth tenet of TribalCrit emphasises the importance of stories.

Stories are not separate from theory; they make up theory and are, therefore, real

and legitimate sources of data and ways of being.

Ladson-Billings (1998:13) also identifies stories as being a legitimate aspect of the Critical approach. She cites Delgado (1989) and says, “These stories serve as interpretive structures by which we impose order on experience and it on us.” Pizarro (1998:62) and

Beresford and Beresford (2006:68) also emphasise the importance of story telling.

In this research, the process of yarning in the Wiluna Martu context is the same as interviewing where the Martu research participants tell their stories and those of their families. The yarning or interview sessions were usually group affairs in open free flowing

65 way of communication. The Martu often came to the topic being discussed in a round about way.

A secondary methodology utilised in this research was participant observation within a framework of a critical ethnography. This methodology was used to gain a feel for the research context early in the research process and later to add to understandings about key issues revealed in the stories told by Martu. Goldsmith (2005:257) defines “ethnography as a systematically recorded, curiosity driven process of engagement with others in a common time and space.” He continues, emphasising that critical ethnography “engages in the analysis of exploitation, oppression, and injustice”. Feinberg (2005:297) stresses that critical ethnography “involves a reflexive consideration of the anthropological enterprise, its effects on the communities in which we work and on the global community of which they (and we) are part.”

It is recognised that the practice of ethnography by anthropologists has had a chequered history in its involvement with Indigenous peoples. Harrington (2005:289) usefully says,

“We cannot alter the discipline’s history as both hand maiden of colonialism and a tool of liberation but we can choose to align critical ethnography with our values ….. an anthropology of liberation.”

The observation methodologies utilised in this research were participant observation where the “observer occupies a role in a social context which is the subject of study” and simple observation “involving observation alone” (Bositis:1988:334-5). This methodology was utilised to gain information in support of the stories told by the Martu to provide another source or layer of information. Bositis (1988:333) warns that, “there may be no type of

66 research design more complex, and therefore more misunderstood, than participant observation.” He goes on to say that (1988:334) “Participant observation enables the research worker to secure his data within the mediums, symbols, and experiential worlds, which have meaning to his respondents.” In this research, I adopt what Bositis (335 – 6) calls “participant-as-observer role” where “both field worker and informant are aware that theirs is a field relationship.” That is there is no distance between the researcher and the observed (Angrosino and Mays de Perez:2000:675). I conducted what Angrosino and

Mays de Perez (2000:677) call focussed observation where in the observation, “certain things, defined as irrelevant, can be ignored. This “necessarily involves interviewing, because the insights gleaned from the experiences of the “natives” guide the ethnographer in his or her decisions about what is more or less important in the culture.”

The participant observation for this research occurred at the Family Centre and at three different ‘Kids and Oldies Picnics’. The picnics were planned by Early Childhood Family

Centre and the HACC centre along with the Wiluna Primary School. I used the opportunity to assist the Kids Centre by providing practical assistance with transport, collecting wood with the senior men and cooking. The cooking allowed me to observe whilst the others worked with the senior people and the children.

Other information was collected simply from observing the way families interact in various situations around town. Specific periods of observation occurred during the ‘yarning’ sessions, during the operation of the Family and Children’s Centre playgroup, Girls Week in Perth and the Home and Community Care Centre (aged care).

67 The research approach of this project is a product of the context of the Martu’s Wiluna, the advice of Indigenous researchers from around the world, the theoretical approach of

Critical Theory and TribalCrit, and the methodologies of story telling or yarning and observation. These form the basis of the research approach.

Research Process

The research process signifies that the approach has been developed in conjunction with

Martu people and responses to the unique research context of the Martu in Wiluna. It serves to reinforce the need for researchers to develop a research approach with the

Indigenous group involved in the project that is consistent with the unique cultural and historical circumstances of that group. The process is also informed by and builds on the

NH&MRC’s (2003) Guidelines for Research on Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander

People.

Bishop and Glynn (1999:168) through their “Kaupapa Maori Research” describe “three interconnected elements” of Indigenous research, which accurately captured the demands of the research context of Martu in Wiluna. They stress the first step is “establishing relationships is fundamental” then, “establishing relationships in a Maori context”, and finally researchers have to be “physically, ethically, morally and spiritually involved in the research process.” Hermes (1998:169) also focuses on relationships, trust and commitment rather than rigor, validity and independence. These Indigenous scholars infer that the research relationships in an Indigenous context are qualitatively different to that of a non-

68 Indigenous context. The researcher is required to build sincere and equal relationships with

Indigenous people involved in the research. This takes time and effort and is an essential prerequisite to the commencement of the research.

Louis (2007:130 -139) describes “Indigenous methodologies” as “alternative ways of thinking about research processes.” Saying that, “They are fluid and dynamic approaches that emphasise circular and cyclical perspectives. Their main aim is to ensure that research on Indigenous issues is accomplished in a more sympathetic, respectful, and ethically correct fashion from an Indigenous perspective.” She like Hermes (1998) also says, “it is also, ‘local ...located ... situated and situating.”

Louis (2007:134-5) identified four differences “between research done within an

Indigenous context using Western methodologies and research done using Indigenous methodologies.” She found that “Indigenous knowledge systems are poly-rhetorical, contextually based, and rooted in a specific place and time”; are transmitted by their “oral histories, narratives, and spiritual practices and rituals”; “Positioning of the Indigenous community members and the researcher in the research” where there is “a critical awareness of how research is shaped by relationships, power, and ethics”; “Determining a research agenda” where “Indigenous community’s needs are met rather than conducting research because there is access to funding; and “Directionality of sharing knowledge” where “Indigenous research shares knowledge with the Indigenous community rather than just “searching for ‘new’ knowledge or ‘new’ ways of incorporating existing knowledge”.

The research approach into Martu child rearing takes the research methodologies identified previously and adapts them for a non-Indigenous researcher working in a Martu context.

69 The resulting research process can be seen as a combination of principles, methodologies, and practice and is best summarised as “critical Indigenous inquiry”. (Denzin et al

:2008:2). This approach, “begins with the concerns of Indigenous people”, “is assessed in terms of the benefits it creates for them”, “represents Indigenous people honestly”,

“honours Indigenous knowledge, customs and rituals”, and “is accountable to Indigenous persons”.

The description of the research process utilised in this project is contained within three sections, Research Principles, Research Tools, and Research Practice. The research principles, research tools and research practice utilised in this project are those that meet the requirements of the research setting, Martu ways of life, and that of Indigenous research. As they are specific to this project and its context, it is not a complete or exhaustive description of the requirements for effective and ethical research in an

Indigenous context.

Research Principles

The principles inherent within this research process are based to a large degree on the advice of the Indigenous writers and the demands of the research context. The Martu generally, and specifically the senior Martu women and Ngangganawili staff and committee provided much of the advice and guidance as to appropriate ways of conducting this research in Wiluna. They all emphasised through words and actions that relationships had to be established before the research could progress.

70 Relationships

As described by Louis (2007:134-5), Bishop and Glynn (1999:168), and Hermes

(1998:169) the focus of Indigenous research is on relationships, trust and commitment by the research to Indigenous processes. Accordingly, the first step in the research process in

Wiluna was to get to know people, establish relationships, and build a level of trust with the

Martu. It was only when a degree of trust was established that discussions turned to the research subject of child rearing. At this stage, people began telling their stories and placing themselves in context in relation to ties to land and relationships with others in

Wiluna. This was also a time for people to get to know me as a person, a member of a family, where I had worked, and why I was doing research in Wiluna. It located me in a space that people could understand. With this basic relationship established, I was able to move to talking to people about how they were brought up, how they brought up their children, how other Martu brought up their children and to discuss current issues to do with children.

Although I had some relationships with Martu from my work with Ngangganawili and a historical connection with the town, no assumption could be made about the nature and quality of the relationships. I felt that I could not simply rely on pre-existing relationships from other roles with the Martu and that I needed to establish myself in the researcher role.

Whilst the pre-existing relationships and history served to remove some barriers, people still had to evaluate me in the new role of researcher. The relationships I established were a function of the amount of time spent with people; the openness of the relationship; my willingness to contribute to and be part of activities in the health service, the town or the settlement; and my willingness to learn and understand about the local people and their history.

71

In the context of this research, the relationships could be grouped into two areas. The first are the more formal relationships that are necessary for the research to be conducted in an ethical manner. These take the form of the agreements between the researcher and

Ngangganawili and the University and Ngangganawili. They extend to relationships with

Ngangganawili staff and committee members. These legalistic manifestations of a formal white relationship are necessary for the research to be commenced.

The second level is the Martu relationships. Even though there was a formal agreement to conduct the research, this had to be given life through the establishment of the less formal or informal research relationships with individuals and families. If the Martu had not liked or trusted me the formal agreement would have been worthless and unenforceable, simply because people would not have talked to me.

The endorsement by the Ngangganawili Committee and staff served to make the transition from stranger to colleague significantly easier. The simple advice of the Ngangganawili

CEO ‘to get out and be seen’ ensured that people saw that a new white person was in town, that people could ask me or Ngangganawili why I was visiting Wiluna, and that opportunities were created to meet and talk to people.

The process of getting to know Martu people took time. I took opportunities to assist where I could at the HACC centre, in the Health Service, and at the Kids Centre. I was able to meet people, let them know about the research and to establish future opportunities to sit and talk. The process of getting to know people seemed to take the same path of exchanging life stories, then talking about ‘life’ and after a while when an element of trust

72 was established the topic of child rearing could be explored. This is not to say, that in the time I spent in Wiluna, deep relationships were formed with Martu. To make such a claim would be false and would reflect a lack of insight. A trusting research relationship was established with most people, which ensured that I could talk with people about Martu child rearing and they would contribute their stories and ideas. I was lucky however to establish a rapport with five senior Martu women, and the relationships developed a greater depth because of their level of concern about the care of Tjitji (children) and time I spent with them.

The relationship with these senior women developed through regular contact at the HACC centre, through the kids and oldies picnics and through other opportunities for contact such as the special picnics. This development of the role for these senior women was one initiated by them and was consistent with their role in the community. As they began to trust me they and understand the research they became more directive and informative.

There was no choice in that this was a style of relationship they clearly wanted to develop.

There was no conflict of interest as their role as a cultural reference group or advisers was to ensure that I had correct understandings of key issues and they did this by providing both information and guidance. They became my reference group and principal informants.

The closer relationship also meant that there was an expectation of me to meet Martu style obligations to the women. They were providing me with information, critical advice, and support and it was incumbent on me to respond appropriately to their kindness and compassion. This ranged from helping each of them out from time to time, to bringing gifts from Perth, to driving them around and supporting them.

73 The research relationship with the Martu involved a great deal of uncertainty because this was the first time I had worked in an Indigenous setting with nothing to offer apart from myself in the nebulous role (from the Martu’s perspective) of a researcher. There was a clear distinction in Wiluna between the expectations of a student researcher and that of a paid worker. As government official, I had something concrete to offer, however, as a researcher I only had myself to offer without the backing and support of an agency. The roles were reversed in that I was seeking assistance from Martu and it was up to me to forge relationships, rather than them seeking support and assistance from someone who had the ability to influence decisions about funding and resources. As a result, I was very aware that any mistake could lead to the permission to conduct the research and the partnership with Ngangganawili to be withdrawn. I was also aware that the friendships I developed with Martu were qualitatively different to those established as a government worker, as I had time to sit and yarn, rather than having to rush off to a ‘meeting’.

Uncertainty

Hermes (1998:155 -168) anticipates the uncertainty in the context of Indigenous research and argues that flexibility is required in allowing the methodology and the research process to be influenced by the research context. For a non-Indigenous person, uncertainty permeates life in Wiluna. The particular order cherished by white Australia does not hold a similar level of importance for the Martu in Wiluna. The white label of uncertainty is used as it is only seen as a problem by the non-Martu. I am also unsure whether the Martu would label this life pattern as uncertainty. However, it does require that all people in

Wiluna live their lives with a great deal of flexibility because Martu consider their familial and cultural responsibilities associated with events such as death and funerals, and Law,

74 and Cultural activities to be more important than non-Martu events. Most of the Martu life priorities arise without warning or are not held at a fixed time each year.

The ceremonies associated with the initiation of young men or ‘the Law’ shows this pattern. The ‘Law’ is of great importance for the Martu and is held every year. However, it is not held to a strict timetable. Traditionally it occurred when there was an abundance of bush food. Currently, it is held when the senior men consider it is the right time, when the right people arrive, when the weather allows, when the young men have been recruited and when the ritual cycles have been completed. In early 2007, ‘the Law’ was held later in the year because of unseasonal and long lasting rainfall. The delay in holding and completing

‘the Law’ caused disruption to most white institutions such as schools, health services, government agencies and community councils. These agencies had assumed that the ‘Law’ would be held as usual during the school holidays, but this year it impinged on the non-

Martu business year.

This uncertainty is also magnified by the significant number of Martu funerals that have to be attended by people in Wiluna. During 2006, there were 15 deaths in Wiluna and a larger number of funerals involving Wiluna Martu families in other communities. At one time in mid 2006, there were three ‘sorry camps’ involving up to thirty people in each waiting on one funeral to be held. The ‘sorry camps’ mean that most close relatives of the deceased move out of their home and abandon their usual activities such as employment and school.

Therefore, the funeral process can cause all but the most important events to be cancelled or delayed for a significant period.

75 Therefore, for a research project such as this and for an organisation such as

Ngangganawili, activities are planned with the knowledge that at any time key people may have to leave, the event be cancelled or people will not be able to attend. During the fieldwork period, such changes meant key opportunities to have contact with Martu were lost. For example, a Men’s Health Night was put off for three months, community camps delayed and key meetings were not held.

Indigenous Strength

As already mentioned a number of the Indigenous writers (Louis (2007:131; Bishop and

Glynn:1999:168) argue that Western research acts to diminish Indigenous people by pathologising or problematising them.

This research adopts a ‘strength perspective’, which views Indigenous people, their life and worldview as part of a successful system of life that has survived for many thousands of years prior to colonisation and has contributed to people’s survival in the harsh post colonial life. This approach rejects the pathologised view of Indigenous people and considers the Martu as strong successful people who in a very short and traumatic space of time have been “elided from the stone age” (Tatz:1991:245). Martu lived successfully in the desert for many thousands of years prior to contact with Europeans. Since contact, they have remained in control of their lives, culture, Law, and family in an equally harsh environment characterised by poverty and neglect that is qualitatively different and far less certain than that of the desert. Yet the Martu in Wiluna now live longer and many more of their children survive birth and childhood than they did in the desert. Martu and other desert group’s birth rates now exceed that of the dominant culture. For this research, this

76 perspective has meant that I have been able to see the person rather than a problem to be solved, and to appreciate the evident strengths in Martu life.

Community Control

The critical principle of the Martu research approach and an important ethical element of research in an Indigenous context is Indigenous community control (Henry et al: 2002:1).

Louis (2007), Hermes (1998), and Bishop and Glynn (1999) stress the importance of the research meeting community needs, the researcher operating ethically, and sharing knowledge with the community. These requirements are embodied in Martu management through Ngangganawili, guidance, and involvement in the research process. This ensured that their needs are served by the project, that they guided the research process, that they are able check, and verify the research findings.

The research approach involves both formal and informal community control over the research project. Undertaking research within an Indigenous community context has an added level of complexity to many other research settings. This additional level is the need to establish trust based relationships with individuals, families and organisations and to navigate unclear community politics prior to and during the research.

The formal community control was established by a Memorandum of Understanding between UWA and Ngangganawili (see attachment eight), which was designed to place the

Indigenous organisation in control of the research process. Henry et al (2001:10) argue that the main elements of “Indigenous control of the research process” are, appropriately resourced Aboriginal community organisations, their involvement in the development of

77 the research, ongoing consultation and negotiation with Indigenous organisation, surveillance of the research by Indigenous partner organisation, and ownership and control of research findings by participating Aboriginal community controlled organisation.

Ngangganawili is a well resourced Aboriginal Health Service and through its Children’s and Family’s Centre it was involved in the design, conduct, review of research outcomes, and documentation of the research.

In Wiluna, specifically at Ngangganawili, the governance and community control is vested in the boards of management who are elected from each family group within the town. The

Martu have accommodated Western style of governance in their boards of management.

They recognise that the imposed model of governance has limitations in the context of

Wiluna and have developed a structure that meets external requirements and is consistent with Martu ways of working. The Ngangganawili committee is made up of two members from each family group in Wiluna to ensure no single family becomes dominant. The families elect or nominate their representatives. The board then elects its chair from within that group. The board sets the policies, directs, problems solves, employs staff and gets involved in cultural issues but does not do the work. This model is inclusive and has proved to be less likely to cause polarisation on the board and in the town. The longevity of this arrangement can be seen from the fact that Ngangganawili is the only Martu controlled organisation operating in Wiluna.

Control of this research was exercised in the first instance by the Ngangganawili committee discussing the proposal, approving its conduct and then delegating the responsibility for the management of the project to the CEO.

78 In the early stages of the research project, I worked closely with the CEO and the Manager of the Family Centre and their staff. This included discussion of research approaches, presentation of reports to the Committee and my conduct in the community. This role was gradually transferred to the senior women and they developed an important role in guiding and advising on cultural matters. Both groups proved to be very helpful in dealing with the tension between the requirements of the academy, such as ‘informed consent’ process, actual recording of interviews, and the reality of what would work in Wiluna.

Control of the research was also exercised in a second instance by an ‘intimate level of community control’, achieved through a process of ‘active informal oversight’. I describe the oversight of the research process as active as it seemed as if each committee member was intimately aware of my actions. It seemed as if they were monitoring me through their networks in the town and through their family members. It was informal because the family networks were used, rather than the formal structure of the Health Service. Wiluna is a small place and the committee members have good networks. At all times, I was aware that I was being seen or heard by a committee member or some one closely related to them.

If there had been a problem with the research or my conduct the ‘active problem solving processes’ that operates in the Health Service would have been used to raise and resolve the problem. This process operates in a manner that binds the Committee and CEO together in an effort to reach culturally appropriate solutions to problems. When an actual or perceived problem occurs, the aggrieved person or people would take their concern to their family’s representative on the committee. Depending on the issue and those involved, that committee member would either raise the issue, or involve the chair. Again, the nature of the issue would mean that the chair would either take up the issue with the employee who

79 had the delegated responsibility or directly with the CEO. This control also operates in positive ways in that committee members regularly commented to the CEO that they were happy with the way I was conducting the research.

Trust

Tatz in his report for the Australian Institute of Criminology, Aboriginal Suicide is

Different (1999:31) adopts a methodological position that spoke loudly to me:

Trust produces more layers of truth than any other methodology and in this most

intimate of studies it is the most important relationship.

NH&MRC (2003:3) also stresses the importance of trust saying that:

research involves groupings of people in a collaborative exercise. Trust among its

stakeholders is essential to a successful and ethical outcome. Trust has to function

at all levels of the research enterprise, between participant and researcher, between

research partners and sponsors, between researchers, institutions and the scientific

community and lastly, and perhaps most importantly, with the wider community.

They conclude, “Where trust persists, research can be sustained.”

In my approach to the research process, I endeavoured to first establish and then build meaningful relationships with the Martu. This commenced with the first visit and continued during subsequent seven visits. The trusting relationship was established with

Martu more through actions than words. The actions that spoke loudest were consistency

80 in relationships, honouring commitments, being prepared to help in a variety of roles, not breaching confidentialities, and listening to and believing people’s stories. The positive comment was made that I was the first researcher to try to talk to everyone, not just the men.

Local in Focus

The term ‘local’ may not seem to be a research principle, but it embodies both the worldview of the Martu and the focus of the research. As Indigenous scholars such as

Moreton-Robinson (1999:1), Ladson-Billings (2000:257 - 77) and Foley (2003:47) argued research with or by Indigenous people on Indigenous matters needs to be “conducted in a manner consistent with an Indigenous worldview”.

The worldview and focus of Martu life is local in contrast to the global view of White

Australia. The centrality of Tjukurrpa (the Law), Walta (family) and Ngurra (country) ensures that they have a strong spiritual focus and life is focussed on Wiluna and its neighbouring communities such as Jigalong and Warburton. Martu focus on the desert in the east and north of the town. This is their country (Ngurra) and where most of their

Walta live and is the spiritual centre in that it is the location of their Tjukurrpa (their belief system).

The Martu worldview in its localised focus embodies uniqueness in life, culture and beliefs, stands in contrast to Western worldviews, which are directed outwards towards a universalised globalised world. Martu have accommodated the Europeans and our Western values with devastating consequences and they now struggle to maintain their own domain.

In contrast, the powerful Western world with its global focus has grown in influence and

81 has exploited Martu for labour and their Ngurra (initially for its emptiness and now for its minerals). The dichotomy in worldviews is clearly evidenced by the government service delivery model provided to the Martu in Wiluna described in the Chapter 4 on Martu domain.

The importance for this research of this principle is the in fundamental difference between

Whites and Martu in their geographical focus, location of decision making, and location of their spiritual and ritual home. All things of relevance for the Martu are situated locally, whereas the White world focuses outwards and locates power away from the Martu.

Long Term Benefits for Indigenous People

Louis (2007:134-5) emphasises the importance of research providing a benefit for the

Indigenous community, in saying that Indigenous research has to meet the “Indigenous community’s needs … rather than conducting research because there is access to funding.”

This Indigenous research principle of providing long-term benefits for the Indigenous community, “can be achieved by a research linkage between research and community development and social change, training of Indigenous researchers, and adoption of effective mechanisms for the dissemination and transfer of research findings to the

Indigenous community.” (NH&MRC:2003:10) The NH&MRC also stress the need for

“the researcher to demonstrate a return (or benefit) to the community that is valued by the community and which contributes to cohesion and survival.” They say, “Aboriginal and

Torres Strait Islander communities have the right to define the benefits according to their own values and priorities.” (NH&MRC:2003:10)

82 As the research was designed to assist the Family Centre to move towards the next stage of their development, there was a core benefit for the Martu in Wiluna through the improved operation of their Centre. The research has assisted the Centre to develop a greater understanding of the issues that they confront in their work to assist Walta (family) care for the Tjitji (children) and to assist with making Tjitji ready for school.

I was initially perplexed about how to contribute practically to the Martu in Wiluna through the conduct of the research. The CEO of Ngangganawili advised me to wait and see what opportunities arose. Fortunately, a number of opportunities developed which provided me with a chance for me to participate in life in Wiluna and develop relationships. The observations from these activities proved to be very helpful. For example, I assisted in the activities of the HACC Centre by helping out when they did not have a driver and taking the senior women for picnics. I also helped the Family and Children’s Centre by assisting at playgroup, by taking part in the Grannies and kids picnics, by being a chaperone on the

Girls Week in Perth, and by assisting in the development of the kids DVD project. In addition, I provided the Ngangganawili Aboriginal Health and Medical Service staff with a

Guide to Working with Martu Families and Children designed for new non-Martu workers.

Incommensurability

Povinelli’s (2001:319-334) concept of incommensurability is important here to describe what I felt was the sense of uncertainty around how some Martu stories and actions could be interpreted. Povinelli says the concept “is closely related to linguistic indeterminacy”, which means, “if indeterminacy refers to the possibility of describing a phenomenon in two or more equally true ways, then incommensurability refers to a state in which two phenomena (or worlds) cannot be compared by a third without producing serious

83 distortion”. She raises the issue of the way a researcher from another cultural group sees the ‘other’ and the lack of certainty of how an event or action can be explained. In the context of the research the simple action of a Martu person not turning up for an interview can be interpreted in many different ways and all of them potentially correct.

This concept of incommensurability is important to this research because it suggests that the Martu have their own values, beliefs and practices around child rearing that are different to those of dominant white Australia. This requires that key meanings associated with children and child rearing need to be explored from the Martu perspective. The concept also carries a warning for cross cultural research that serves to protect against the comfort of certainty and the assumption of meaning in action and stories.

The incommensurability of meanings and of a person’s actions was managed as much as possible in the research by the layering of people’s stories, checking back, asking different people the same questions, or asking the same person the same question at different times.

However, the most important aspect of the research approach was to establish meaningful relationships with key people, which enabled hard to answer questions to be asked and answers to be explored.

Research Tools

In following the guidance of Louis (2007:134-5) and Hermes (1998:169) the research utilised research methods that were consistent with local Indigenous culture and ways of working, including the ‘yarning’ or story telling approach. The uniqueness of the context required that a number of research tools had to be tried whilst learning about local needs

84 and approaches. For example, formal interviews were found not to work because they were inflexible in both timing and process, it was hard to find private places to talk, and Martu were not comfortable with one on one interviews. In addition, the low levels of English literacy meant that approaches requiring English writing and reading skills would not work.

As a result, I quickly discovered that the most effective approach was sitting and talking

(yarning) in a flexible relaxed manner. These stories were written up as soon as possible after the conversation and aggregated in a process of layering.

Documenting the Stories

My daily cycle during each visit to Wiluna was to go to the HACC centre, the health clinic, the Family Centre or the art centre. I would usually talk to a number of individuals or groups in the morning and make times to see people in the afternoons. Afternoons especially in the summer were not that useful as people were usually sleeping at home.

However, I found I could talk to people in the cool of the Health Service at that time. The rhythm of Wiluna and the seasons meant flexibility and patience were important attributes.

I would write up the interview notes from the morning at lunch and from the afternoons before the evening meal. The period after each session was a useful time to write up the notes because there was time for reflection on what had been said and why and to link the information to other sessions. As May (1997:143) says, “Field work is a continual process of reflection and the alteration of the focus of observations”. The notes summarised the conversation, the feel of the interview and anything I wanted to follow up on later. The notes were then typed up into field notes, which in a depersonalized format formed the basis of the field trip report for the supervisors and the Ngangganawili committee. These documents were summarised and written up as an interim or mid term research report for

85 the Ngangganawili committee designed to ensure that all parties were aware of the research process and progress. Each level of recording and the write up provided a useful opportunity for reflecting on and reviewing the stories. This process provided an opportunity to understand the meaning of people’s stories.

The process of documenting the stories was designed to facilitate a relaxed interview situation and to allow the Martu the freedom to tell their stories in their own way. I utilised the yarning process in most contacts with people. Many people loved telling stories, their own and others, true and fictional, humorous and sad. The individual stories were very powerful and relevant to the research. The stories told by Wiluna people involved many levels of understanding, from simple descriptions of events, or personal experiences or humorous events and often served as Kessaris (2006:348) says to describe the impact of mainly structural racism in a very personal way. For example, in response to the imposition of the anti-co-sleeping view of the SIDS project officer (to be discussed later in

Chapter 6) a senior Martu woman told a story that involved ‘mock horror’ of how she heard that ‘whitefellas’ left their children to sleep in a room by themselves.

The initial contacts with people were unstructured so that I had an opportunity to continue to build on relationships, tell people about the progress of the research, hear their comments, and then listen to their story. If people either did not want to be interviewed or if they did not want to go any further after learning about the research they were not pressured to take part. Only two people declined. One older man simply would not engage in discussion and did not talk much, and one woman said she was ‘too busy’. Most of the initial interviews finished with the agreement that people were happy for me to talk to them again.

86

Whilst the follow up interview was more structured, they were easy flowing conversations, as I learnt very quickly that direct questions would not be answered well and that being too directive caused people to become uncomfortable. With this insight, I tended to guide conversations and introduce general questions, which usually meant that people eventually covered the subject. In the beginning of subsequent interviews or discussions, I tried to check back with people and to confirm my understandings from the previous session. This usually served as a useful focus point and seemed to make people happy when I told them what I had learnt previously from them.

I interviewed fourteen people by themselves, and I conducted twelve group or family sessions with a varying number of people taking part. As I was looking for a Martu perspective these group discussions were useful. People tended to question or correct statements or information given by others. I also sought clarification about some issues from all of the Ngangganawili staff who were Martu, non-Martu and non-Indigenous people.

To make sure I had the correct information or perception I would refer to similar situations with different informants (without breaching confidentiality), or feedback the information from one interview at the beginning of the next conversation. Throughout the process I began to rely on the senior women who became a reference group. For example, on one occasion, I had expressed interest in a story about a Martu man who was said to have escaped from Rottnest Island when it was a penal settlement. I was told several different names by a couple of people and different parts of the story. However, the senior women said that was wrong and they proceeded to tell me the correct name and story.

87

Bearing in mind the various levels of uncertainty in Martu life, and the incommensurability issues identified by Povinelli, the process of what I have called ‘layering of stories’ was used to build understandings. The process of layering of stories was suggested by the context of Wiluna and the research questions. The process of getting to know people and establishing trust provided the first level of the stories covering Martu pre and post contact history, family history and the individual’s own story. As relationships developed, I was able to become reasonably specific with my questions. People responded by telling particular stories to provide specific information. This provided another layer of information. Later contacts, conversations, and discussions provided further layers.

The process of writing up each story or conversation enabled me to examine the layers.

Each recording encapsulated the facts of the story, the feelings expressed or left unsaid, and the context. Laid on top of each other the similarities became obvious, as did the differences. The differences in stories led to further inquiry when the conversation allowed. A few times one person’s story was not corroborated in this process. I also used key texts in this layering process as an aid to understanding the Martu stories.

I referred to documents by; Tonkinson (1977, 1978, 1981, 1982, 1988, 1989, 1991, 1999,

2001, 2004, 2006) on the Mardu (Tonkinson uses this spelling in preference to Martu which is used more generally) in Jigalong, Folds (2001) on the Pintubi, Myers (1986) on the Pintubi, McCoy (2004) on the Kukatja, Sackett (1977, 1978, 1990, 2003) on the Martu in Wiluna, Davenport et al’s book on the Martu in Jigalong and Warriki Jarrinjaku

Jintangkamanu Purananjaku Walpiri on desert groups, for guidance and direction both before and during the fieldwork.

88

Before deciding to refer to those texts on the Mardu/Martu, I talked with a number of

Martu including the senior women, who at this stage had not taken on the reference group role, about the work of Tonkinson, Sackett, and Davenport and Johnson. The purpose of the discussion was to ascertain whether there were any problems or controversy with these writers. The Martu said they knew all of these people and said that to their knowledge the work of each was held in high regard. In particular, both Tonkinson (northern Martu) and

Sackett (southern Martu) are being used by Martu Native Title claimants to support their case for Native Title. This would suggest that both have a high degree of credibility with the Martu. I have no knowledge of Folds and Myers and how the Pintubi regard them and their work. However, I did a scan of the literature to see if there was criticism of their work, with no result. After ten years work in the Kutjungka region with groups such as the

Kukatja, I know that they hold McCoy’s work in high regard.

Warriki Jarrinjaku Jintangkamanu Purananjaku Walpiri is an Indigenous community controlled child focus organisation serving the desert communities out of Alice Springs.

Their report is the result of a number of workshops with Indigenous women and was published after the approval of a representative Indigenous community committee. I therefore felt with some assurance that it reflected the voice of the Indigenous people involved in its production. As a result, I had a level of confidence in the work of these authors.

Layering of the stories involved both the identification of patterns and trends, and critical interpretation. The process of checking back with informants was designed to reduce the opportunity for misinterpretation and generated a number of key themes in the research.

89 The key texts provided both current and historical insights and explanations. The exercise of using these source texts served to ‘short cut’ the research exercise by providing insights that would have taken time to emerge if at all, bearing in mind a number of the authors were able to speak the Indigenous language of the group they were working with. The patterns to emerge from the layering of the stories then served to build on these insights.

The process of layering also served to depersonalise and protect sensitive information. This was important, as Wiluna is a very small close-knit town, where family relationships can be volatile. Bentz (1997:121) warns against the breaking of confidences and suggests that:

it is not ethical to use life histories or to report specific incidents from individual

lives, if such information has the potential to prove embarrassing if the identities of

these people were revealed. In most cases it is almost impossible to protect the

anonymity of individuals in small communities where a researcher’s activities and

contacts are common knowledge.

With this advice in mind, on issues of sensitivity, I present a single Martu voice that is derived from the layering process.

In the evolution of the layering process, I took Sayer’s (1997:453) advice that, whilst a

“strong or deterministic essentialism is always wrong and often dangerously misleading, a moderate non-deterministic essentialism is necessary for explanation and for a social science that claims to be critical and have emancipatory potential.” The aim was to present a Martu perspective, which would present this group as being different to other Indigenous

90 groups in order to fight against the dominant culture’s tendency to deny Indigenous diversity and present a homogenised view of Australian Indigenous culture.

The process of developing understandings forced me to confront pre-conceptions about

Indigenous people from the desert in particular and either dismiss them or confirm them. I brought this baggage to the research project. This was both an advantage as I had a

“personal emotional attachment to the concerns of the research,” which ensured that the

“project quality” was not “jeopardised” (May:1997:144). The disadvantage is that I had ideas, which were inaccurate, which needed to be discarded. For example, in the beginning

I did not think that the Martu in Wiluna were ‘truly desert peoples’. I was very wrong!

Informed Consent

The article by Davidson et at (2006) on post-graduate research students obtaining informed consent from First Nations People in northern Canada proved to be a very useful guide for this research. These students give voice to many of the issues that were encountered in this research. Davidson (2006:2) says that the Canadian Tri-Council Policy Statement (TCPS) says that free and informed consent refers to “the dialogue, information sharing, and general process through which prospective subjects choose to participate in research involving themselves”. The same policy also stipulates that informed consent “should ordinarily be obtained in writing”.

Whilst some of the issues identified by Davidson et at (2006) especially to do with treaties are a Canadian specific concern, the majority are relevant to the Australian Indigenous context and that of Wiluna. I used an informed consent process similar to that suggested by

Davidson’s (2006) Canadian students that of a written organisational consent from

91 Ngangganawili in the form of an agreement to sponsor the research and individual consent obtained verbally. This approach was adopted because the University of Western Australia is an organisation with little or no standing with the Martu in Wiluna. The organisation has no meaning for the Martu as it is not represented locally and it does not have a local face.

However, Ngangganawili recognises the importance of the University and the written sponsorship agreement between the two organisations reflects the formal relationship. For the Martu, Ngangganawili is local, it is managed locally in a Martu manner, and they know how to interact effectively with its management. This positions Ngangganawili organisation as the focus of problem solving for the research for the Martu, which serves to give the informed consent process local relevance and strength.

Before the research was commenced, the issue of obtaining informed consent was discussed with the Ngangganawili CEO. The standard forms submitted with the ethics approval were considered and dismissed because the majority of the Martu were functionally illiterate and a question of whether they could read at the beginning of an interview was likely to cause embarrassment, as was a signature on a form they could not read. Embarrassment was considered a poor way to start building relationships. This change in approach was approved by the UWA Ethics Committee. McCoy (2004:263) also used a verbal informed consent process in his PhD thesis with the Kukatja in Balgo. He said that; “As most of the people of the region do not speak English as their first language, I did not wish to pressure people to read and sign a consent document, composed in English, prior to an interview.”

Information about the research was disseminated in three ways. Members of management committee of Ngangganawili read, considered, and approved the research sponsorship

92 documents. Secondly, it was decided to use verbal briefings about the project in the process of meeting people around town hoping that the information would be passed on informally. As a result, people often stopped me and wanted to know what I was doing in town and to find out about the project. Finally, I verbally briefed Martu about the research in the first interview and/or discussion.

The informed consent story I used was to explain that I was a PhD student from UWA and often used ‘my mature age student status’ as a joke to break the ice in group situations. I explained the research project, its purpose and that Ngangganawili was the local sponsor. I suggested that they should go to the Ngangganawili CEO if they wanted more information or if they did not like what I was doing. At the end of the description of the research, I asked them if I could talk to them later emphasising that they did not have to talk to me and then finished the conversation. In order to make sure that all people I observed knew that I was a researcher I relied on the informal networks within the town, my role as a stranger in the town that would cause people to ask what I was doing, and I only took part in events organised by Ngangganawili. I was confident that people would talk about the research with the CEO of Ngangganawili and they did. Fortunately, they only had praise for the research process.

As very few non-Martu were to be interviewed as part of the research, I decided that I would adopt the same approach as for the Martu informants. I only interviewed or had discussions with Ngangganawili’s non-Indigenous CEO, their alcohol and drug counsellor, the Family Centre Manager and their doctors. All were long-term employees of

Ngangganawili with many years of experience working within the Martu context and were happy to talk to me with the verbal informed consent briefing. Their views expressed in the

93 interviews represent the informed opinion of the organisation from their own area of expertise.

Indigenous Reference Group

During the conduct of the research, I began to rely heavily on a group of five senior women who attended the HACC centre attached to the Health Service. In time, they became the research cultural reference group and after some discussion, they agreed that I should formally recognise their role and refer to them as Gundjuno Parntan or senior women.

Over a number of visits, they became the guiding voice in the research and were always happy to talk with me on a daily basis during visits to Wiluna.

These women are amongst the most senior women in the town. They are either grandmothers or great grandmothers, which gives them great deal of status in the Martu world. They stood out individually and collectively as being confident and strong in the way they presented and talked to people. It was clear that they were accorded a great deal of respect both amongst the Martu and by the Health Service staff.

Later in the research the women admitted (with an element of tongue in cheek) that part of their respect came from the fact that they were so badly behaved in the past and had reduced or stopped drinking and changed their lives. They added on a more serious note that the respect shown to them was because of their age, and their knowledge of and position in the Tjukurrpa. Unfortunately, one senior woman died peacefully in her sleep before the final report back to the Gundjuno Parntan. The report back on my research was conducted over a five day period. I sat down with the senior women at the HACC centre for two to three hours on each day and checked the accuracy of my research findings and

94 conclusions. They confirmed that my understandings were from their perspective accurate and that they agreed with my conclusions.

The senior women also provided a second level of community control of cultural oversight of the research. I had hoped to be able to rely on the Ngangganawili Committee or at least a subcommittee for this level of control. As outlined, each member is a senior Martu who represents a particular family group. This level of representation would have provided a good level of cultural control. However, this arrangement simply never eventuated for a number of reasons. There were funerals to attend, some members had to go to hospital, or it just was not convenient when I was in Wiluna. The CEO confirmed that it is hard to get the committee together for anything more than their quarterly meetings and he asked them on a number of occasions whether they wanted to meet with me a second time and confirmed that the meeting fees would be paid, but the meeting was never held. As a result,

I was left without a cultural reference group. Around the same time, I had begun to meet regularly with the senior women. Their willingness to meet on a daily basis provided the opportunity for me to seek cultural information about appropriate action, seek clarification about factual issues, talk about family histories, and get their advice on handling of research. There was no other group in Wiluna I could talk with and senior men were unavailable. I began to rely heavily on these women both as informants and as cultural advisors and they assumed a role, where they had oversight and cultural control of the research. To cement the relationship with the old women I took them on a number of picnics by themselves because they found the HACC centre too noisy.

It has been unfortunate that there is not a similar group of older men in Wiluna and this is a limitation of the research. The older men attend the HACC centre but they are either

95 unable to communicate, unwilling in one instance or suffering from dementia. Their physical and mental condition was said by the senior women to be a consequence of their hard lives.

The Martu research tools utilised in this research, of the way I documented the stories, how

I obtained informed consent and the role of the senior women’s reference group relied on the advice of Louis (2007) and Hermes (1998) and drew heavily on what worked within the context of Wiluna. Ngangganawili and the women’s reference group provided much needed advice at critical times during the research and they guided the development of these processes.

Research Practice

The research commenced with the simple advice of the Ngangganawilli CEO to “get ‘out and about’ in Wiluna, be seen, and take the opportunity to get to know people”. I followed this advice and discovered that there was a pattern to all my contact with Martu in Wiluna.

It was through the process of establishing relationships that people seemed to become comfortable with my presence and in time I was able to ‘be’ in various situations and observe how people interacted. It seemed that my willingness to help in practical ways provided an easier familiarisation process.

96 Timeframe

The research is set in the present but is influenced by the Martu precontact Law and culture and by their post contact history. Sackett (1977:90-99) argues that the Martu maintain that the Dreaming and its requirements cannot be changed so it is very much part of the present.

Poirier (2005:3) explains;

In their present day, ever changing expression, Australian Aboriginal socialities are

characterised by continuously negotiated and somewhat paradoxical dynamic

between ‘the forms of permanence’ (to use Stanner’s expression meaning the

existing and mythological and ritual expressions) and their structural

transformations. In the Western Desert this dynamic of change is barely noticeable,

because the Aborigines themselves have a very conservative discourse in relation to

their own ancestral law and order. They portray themselves as simply being the

executors of such Law.

Time also has other manifestations for the Martu. The day is broken into three periods of morning, afternoon and night rather than hours of the day. This pattern influenced by the seasons and cultural events governed the rhythm of the research. Rather than a day being broken into hours, the day was simply divided into morning (before lunch), afternoon (after lunch) and night, which seemed to begin at about 4.00 pm with people beginning to drift to their homes. This really gave me two opportunities to talk to people during the day. The morning was best, as it seemed to be the most social time of the day. I was reluctant to talk to people at night unless invited for two reasons. This was the time when people move into family groups and is a more private time. It was a time when there were more people

97 around who were intoxicated. I tried talking to people in the early evening once but the presence of a number of people who were drunk made it very difficult.

Cycle of Visits to Wiluna

Understanding and relationships were also developed because of my pattern of visitation to

Wiluna. My personal circumstances, funding for fieldwork, the shortage of accommodation in Wiluna and the desire to ‘not to get under the feet’ of staff at the Health

Service meant that I decided to visit Wiluna for periods of two weeks. In a period of twelve months in 2006/7, I visited Wiluna eight times and the final visit was used to report back on the research findings in late 2007. It was as Wolcott (1999:57) reported,

“Fieldworkers have sometimes reported a strengthening relationship between themselves and the community by the very act of going away and then returning as promised.” The cycle of visiting Wiluna also enabled useful reflection and testing of ideas and understanding, Perth gave me opportunities to think and Wiluna allowed me to test the results against reality.

Challenges of the Research Approach

The original intention of the research was to talk to all members of the Martu community of

Wiluna, however, during the research process a number of issues emerged, which limited the scope of the research. All research conducted by non-Indigenous researchers in an

Indigenous setting has limitations and this project is no exception. In a general sense, I acknowledge the limitations caused by my gender, race, work background, and age. These however in the context of the Martu in Wiluna were not a significant issue as suggested by

98 the research texts and many academics. They did however colour the way I interpreted stories and presented them in an aggregated manner in this thesis. As said, I endeavoured to moderate the impact of my interpretation and representation by constantly checking back with people, by asking the senior women for clarification, and finally drawing on written information. There were, however a number of context specific limitations.

The first was the evident Martu discomfort with talking about issues and incidents of sensitivity (which has been described in the previous section) and the second was the difficulty in engaging men in the research. The final issue was the effect of relying on

English as the language of the research process, rather than Martujarra.

Talking about Issues of Sensitivity

In the previous section, I described how Martu are “more constrained about what they talk about and to whom”, and that Martu do not talk about their feelings or their ‘sad times’ generally unless there is a close relationship with the person concerned (Johnson:2007 personal communication). The impact of this was that their stories were told in a matter of fact way and any mention of feelings tended to be restricted to the statement, ‘she made me angry’ or ‘I was sad’. Tonkinson (1991:17) also found that Mardu in Jigalong were also constrained. He comments that the “Mardu I have known are not given to either philosophising or attempting objective assessments as to their cultural origins or their complex social institutions; nor are they likely to elaborate on their motivations symbols and behaviours.” Davenport (2003) who has worked extensively with the Martu in

Jigalong also found that the “Martu do not commonly recount stories of violence, death, suffering or painful memories from within their own or close families lives.” This Martu

99 characteristic served to reduce the opportunity for understanding how Martu thought about incidents that in a Western framework would have been traumatic. This is an important issue for a number of reasons and raised a number of questions that remain unanswered.

For example, is trauma a Martu concept; do Martu view some incidents as traumatic and if so what are they; and how do Martu deal with these incidents? The answers to these questions would have assisted in understanding how Martu deal with the impact of colonisation. The answers would also assist in understanding the most appropriate way of assisting the Martu to deal with issues of concern to them.

Elusiveness of Men

I found it difficult to locate and to talk to Martu men in all stages of the research and discussed this problem with some of the Ngangganawili staff. All said that this was a problem encountered by all people with trying to engage with Martu men. The two doctors, who have worked in Wiluna and Jigalong for many years, said it was impossible to get Martu men to come to the clinic for anything other than a painful injury or illness.

Apparently, when men did go to the clinic, they did not want to talk about other issues and tended not to re-present after the pain had subsided. The Ngangganawili alcohol and drug counsellor said the only time he was able to get close to men was during his camps where people were out bush and were relaxed. These camps did not occur frequently as they had to be fitted in around Law, funerals, football, work (increasingly) and family commitments.

The camps were not held during any of my visits, although there was an open invitation to attend. The counsellor said he was frustrated with not being able to access the men especially the younger men and that court ordered counselling did not increase the chances of them coming to him. The CEO said that he has been working in Wiluna for over thirteen

100 years and that it has taken much of this time to get to know men in the town. Some will come to him with their problems but others still will not talk to him.

I tried to talk to a number of senior men at the HACC centre and during the picnics but they were not able to assist because of Altziemers disease or dementia, speech problems because of a stroke and one did not want to talk. I also tried to talk to two prominent Martu men who were always ‘too busy’ or out of town, who enticingly, were very insightful during short discussions. The Martu police officer was also ‘too busy’ and never available. A son of an elderly senior Lawman said he would be happy to talk to me but he lived in

Warburton and was never in town. Also I tried to talk to groups of younger men who

‘cruised’ around town either on foot or in cars, who all responded with an uncomfortable silence. Late one afternoon, I did try to talk with a group of mainly men who were drinking at a house I visited. It turned out that I knew some of the men’s relatives in Balgo so some rapport was established. Unfortunately, the joint impact of the alcohol and sadness for family meant that emotions got out of hand and I felt that I should leave as people were becoming violent.

Therefore, the most information provided through stories is largely from Martu women.

The observations are largely of Martu at the Ngangganawili, the HACC Centre, and the

Family Centre, and participation in the ‘kids and oldies picnics’. As the research was sanctioned and supported by the Ngangganawili Committee, I was careful to limit my contacts to Martu within the Ngangganawili networks and people they suggested. I also limited my observations to Ngangganawili operated activities.

101 Language

The research process was constrained by its reliance on English as the language of communication. The research budget did not allow the employment of Martu research assistants to work with the researcher and provide translation assistance. Whilst I could speak and understand ‘Aboriginal English’, I could not speak or understand Martu. This meant that all the discussions, stories, and conversations were conducted predominantly in

English, which is the second or third language of most Martu. This medium of communication limited the ability of the Martu to talk about complex ideas and concepts, with the result that much of what they said was muted by limited English. My reliance on

English limited my ability to ask questions, prompt discussion, and to take part in conversations. Fortunately, on many occasions Martu involved in the group discussions would intervene when I clearly had not understood what was being said, and make sure I had the correct meaning.

The reliance on English also has an impact on my ability to communicate the feelings, concepts, and values expressed by the Martu in the written form in this thesis. For example in the discussion of Walta or family, many Martu said, “it is everything to me”. Also in explaining the importance of country or Ngurra, a senior woman said, “we dream of it all the time”. Both these conversations and the words used by the Martu do not convey the meaning, importance, and the depth of the feelings associated with each of these concepts.

The group conversations allowed me to experience the strong feelings associated with the limiting English words. However, it has been very hard to convert the depth of this experience and the feelings associated with the central Martu beliefs, values, and experiences, into written English.

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In recognising the limitation caused by my lack of Martujarra skills, I endeavoured to check back with the senior women and other Martu about my understandings and my feelings. The final report back to the senior women, that took place over a week in late

December 2007, also served as a checking process. However, the same limitations of relying on English would have affected this process as well.

Conclusion

This research project is a partnership between a non-Indigenous researcher and Martu under the control of a Martu organisation. I have called the research approach utilised in this project Indigenous Research because it shares all aspects of Indigenist research except that it is not conducted by an Indigenous person. This approach requires the research to be managed by Indigenous people or their organisations.

The challenge for this non-Indigenous researcher has been to carry out the research in a manner that is consistent with the Indigenist/Indigenous research approach that involves the respect of Wiluna Martu culture and beliefs. The development of the research has demanded that I confront my own certainty about many Indigenous research subjects, that I explore issues such as the appropriateness of non-Indigenous people researching

Indigenous people, and of a man researching the topic of Indigenous child rearing. I was aided by a number of very useful conversations with my supervisors, academics, and researchers such as Tonkinson and Davenport and Johnson, Martu and non-Martu workers

103 in Wiluna and colleagues. My race and gender was an issue of concern in Perth but

Martu’s concerns were more about the researcher operating in a culturally sensitive manner that was respectful and understanding of their culture and beliefs.

The Indigenous approach used in this project is based or located within the particular

Indigenous group’s worldview. It is theoretically grounded in Critical Theory in particular

TribalCrit. The approach recognises that Indigenous Australians have suffered from the dual processes of racism and colonisation, that have served to alienate them from their culture and land, demanded that they assimilate and from institutional and personal discrimination. The reality of the diversity of Indigenous cultures and their differing post contact experiences demanded that the Martu worldview and history be understood as the first step in the research process.

A deeper understanding of the issues around the research question/s came from being guided by local people, asking questions of appropriate people and at appropriate times, reading historical and anthropolical accounts of the Indigenous groups and by being around and relaxed with the Martu. The process of layering of the Martu stories enabled me to develop a greater depth of understanding. Regular checking back with people ensured the accuracy of what they said and served to launch new conversations.

The Martu research approach requires that there be Indigenous community management or control of the research process, that primacy is given to Martu knowledge and that Martu knowledge be understood and believed. The actual research methods utilised needed to be consistent with Martu culture and ways of working such as yarning and storytelling.

Finally, the research has to embrace the goal of Indigenous emancipation.

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Chapter Three Indigenous Child Rearing: Themes, Practices, and Beliefs

Introduction

This chapter examines the way Indigenous groups from Australia and other countries bring up their children. The examination of the literature on Indigenous child rearing serves to show that there is little research on the topic of child rearing by Australia’s Indigenous people, especially by Indigenous Australians. The research work that is in the public domain is by anthropologists who document an Indigenous group’s child rearing practices as part of a wider study. Throughout this process, I was mindful of the warning by Mandell et al (2003:5) that;

Given the cultural diversity among Aboriginal peoples, any general summary of

beliefs and values is unlikely to be universally representative, or necessarily

reflective of the nuanced contexts in which they were expressed.

The limited nature of academic work and research on this subject raises a number of questions for me that goes to the source of the impetus for this research. The lack of knowledge about and understanding of Indigenous child rearing in Australia by the child welfare system is concerning.

105 The importance of seeking to develop a better understanding of Australia Indigenous child rearing beliefs, values and practices is reinforced by the conclusion of the report Bringing

Them Home on the ‘Stolen Generations’ of Indigenous people by the Human Rights and

Equal Opportunity Commission (1997:545). It states that:

Cultural difference, particularly different family structures, can lead to adverse

decisions by juvenile justice, welfare and other agencies, particularly where

cultural difference is not understood or does not inform policy development and

implementation. At worst, cultural difference can be treated as a type of

abnormality or pathology because it differs from the perceived dominant cultural

norm. In other words, if Indigenous child rearing is seen as pathological or

abnormal, Indigenous families will be more liable to intervention by social workers,

police, and courts.

I refer to the child rearing practices of Indigenous groups from other countries to show that the distinctiveness Indigenous groups’ practices is shared, and they too have been pathologised by the dominant culture in their country.

Indigenous Child Rearing

As far as I could ascertain there is no academic published work on the subject of Martu child rearing practices, beliefs, and values. However, Warriki Jarrinjaku Jintangkamanu

Purananjaku: Working Together and Everyone Listening (Warriki Report:2002) by Warriki

Tjutangku Palyapayi an Indigenous child care organisation serving the desert Indigenous

106 communities and based in Alice Springs, documents desert based Indigenous groups’ child rearing practices (but not Martu) and reviews literature on the subject. Importantly the

Warriki Report (2002:122) concludes that, “The survey of the literature has also shown that the information on (Aboriginal) child rearing is relatively scarce and more contemporary research in many areas is needed.” They also comment that there is little or no research on the role of Indigenous men in child rearing. This research project aims to small degree to address this gap in information.

Two other sources of information on Australian Indigenous child rearing were located in the review. The first source are three journal articles that relate to specifically to the Torres

Strait Islands written by Kolar and Soriano (1998), Malin, Campbell, and Agius (1996), and

Batrouney and Soriano (2001). Importantly, these articles and the Warriki Report are written by Indigenous people about their own ways of bringing up their children.

The second source of information relates to work by non-Indigenous people, usually anthropologists who in the course of their scholarship document or comment on Indigenous child rearing. Their work is useful as it documents child rearing practices of some of the

Indigenous groups from the desert bloc. The scholars are Tonkinson (1977, 1978, 1981,

1982, 1988, 1989, 1991, 1999, 2001, 2004, 2006) who writes about the Mardu in Jigalong;

Folds (2001) who writes about the Pintubi; Myers (1986) who writes about the Pintubi but at a different time to Folds; McCoy (2004) who writes about the Kukatja; Sackett (1977,

1978, 1990, 2003) who writes about the Martu in Wiluna; and Davenport et al (2004) who writes about the Martu in Jigalong. Annette Hamilton (1981a) is one writer who documents Indigenous child rearing practices in her book Nature and Nurture: Aboriginal

Child-Rearing in North Central Arnhem Land. She compares Anbarra child rearing with

107 White Australians. However, each of these writers suffers from the same handicap as I do, writing about Indigenous people as an outsider.

In broadening the review of literature to Indigenous groups from other countries, I located documents on; Canadian First Nations written by Mandell, Clouston Carlson, Fine and

Blackstock (2003), Bennett and Blackstock (2002), Blackstock (2004), and Blackstock

(2006); on the Sami (Indigenous peoples of Norway) written by Javo, Alapack, Heyerdahl and Ronning (2003) and Javo, Ronning, and Heyerdahl (2004); and on Palauans written by

Collier (1999). All of these authors are Indigenous people writing about their own group and their own experiences.

The lack of documented information on Indigenous child rearing in Australia and specifically on Indigenous groups from the desert is concerning because of the over representation of Indigenous children in the child welfare system. This overrepresentation, referred to in chapter 1, has been documented by Australian Institute of Health and

Welfare’s (AIHW) (2008:28) Child Abuse Report for 2006 – 7.

It is this absence of knowledge contrasted with the over representation of Indigenous children in the Australian child welfare system that is the focus of this chapter. It poses a critical question for me, that if the Australian child welfare system is concerned about the plight of Indigenous children, why then is so little known about Indigenous child rearing practices, beliefs and values? This indicates for me that child welfare services have based their work with Indigenous Australians on Western child rearing beliefs, values, and practices and that Indigenous child rearing practices are not considered to be sufficiently important or different to be documented. As a result, they have been discounted and

108 pathologised. The situation is well summarised by Blackstock (2004:131) who cites the

United Nations Committee on the Rights of the Child (2003) who conclude that;

Aboriginal children face more discrimination and increased risk factors than other

Canadian children. Their lived experiences are shaped by the policies of

assimilation and colonisation that aimed to eliminate Aboriginal culture through

the repression of fundamental freedoms…..”

The next section examines how child rearing is defined and the role played by culture in the rearing of Indigenous children.

Definition of Child Rearing

As this research focuses on the importance of the child welfare system incorporating

Indigenous culture into their ways of working, it is important for the definition of child rearing adopted here to give prominence to the central role of culture. According to

Howard (2001:2), culture is a central element in the way children are reared. She cites

Evans and Myers (1994), who argue, “Child rearing practices, patterns and beliefs are based on culturally-bound understanding of what children need and what they are expected to become.”

Evans and Myers’ (1994:2) define child rearing practices and place emphasises on the role of culture arguing that it is “consisting of practices which are grounded in cultural patterns and beliefs.” These practices “have been derived from cultural patterns, ideas of what

109 should be done, and constitute the accepted practices or norms. These, in turn, are based on beliefs about why one or another practice is better than another.” They conclude that;

“Childrearing practices are embedded in the culture and determine, to a large extent, the behaviours, and expectations surrounding a child's birth and infancy.” In a similar vein

Kolar and Soriano (1998:3) emphasise “the expectations of each particular community” in

“the primary protection, socialisation, and nurturance of the children they bear or adopt”.

LeVine (1998:8) also places a strong emphasis on the role of culture in parenting noting that:

Each culture, drawing on its own symbolic traditions, supplies models for parental

behaviour that, when implemented under local conditions, become culture-specific

styles of parental commitment. … Each culture, therefore, acts as a frame of

reference for the way that children are perceived, and for the development of

parenting beliefs and practices.

The Warriki Report (2002) emphasises the importance of culture in Indigenous child rearing in Australia’s deserts, arguing that, “Traditional Yapa and Anangu child rearing practices strengthen relationships and foster cultural knowledge. Cultural knowledge is strong and extremely valuable for children.” As can be seen from the work of these authors, the culture of the Indigenous group is an important determinant of the way their children are brought up.

The following section examines the characteristics of Indigenous child rearing that are revealed in the literature on each of the Indigenous groups.

110

Characteristics of Indigenous Child Rearing

In considering the literature on Indigenous child rearing certain themes emerge which suggest a commonality of Indigenous experience, however as Howard (2001:2) notes there is diversity within and between Indigenous groups and this diversity means that there is no one “traditional Indigenous family structure”. This section of the review of the literature considers these common themes. These themes build a picture of Indigenous difference in the way bring up their children.

Pre-Colonisation Strengths

There are very few writers on Indigenous child care issues who focus on the success of

Indigenous peoples in Australia and elsewhere prior to the arrival of the colonists. This is an unfortunate over sight as most Indigenous and colonised cultures thrived for many thousands of years prior to the arrival of European colonists and their child rearing practices and beliefs clearly supported this success. Both Folds who writes about the

Pintubi and Canadian First Nation’s writers Bennet and Blackstock (2002:4) make this observation about the successful life prior to colonisation. Folds (2001:45) comments:

….. they have adapted themselves to that bitter environment so that they laugh

deeply and grow the fattest babies in the world.

111

Similarly, Bennet and Blackstock (2002:4) comment, “First Nations children were best cared for prior to colonization.”

This perspective recognises the important influence of the pre-colonisation culture, affirms non-western cultures, and refuses to problematise their ways of living and beliefs.

Pathologising Indigenous Child Rearing

Indigenous groups within Australia are concerned about the effects of Western child care values, practices and norms on their families. Malin, Campbell, and Agius (1996:43) argue that;

Aboriginal child rearing practices that may be seen in a negative light by non-

Aboriginal people are, in fact, effective means for preparing Aboriginal children to

deal with the conditions they will encounter as adults.

This concern is also shared by Indigenous peoples in Norway. Javo, Ronning, and

Heyerdahl (2004:67) write about the Sami in Norway and conclude that there is:

A growing literature is documenting differences between ethnic groups in child-

rearing values, beliefs, and goals. Furthermore, it demonstrates parents’ efforts to

foster behavioural capacities in their children that maximize their cultural values.

112 In writing about Torres Strait Islanders, Kolar and Soriano (1998:3) emphasise that there is a “need for cultural understanding with the imperative that differences in child-rearing are not defined as deficit models of parenting”. These writers are concerned about the growing homogenisation of child care values, practices and norms and the devaluation of their own culture’s child care practices.

Indigenous Child Rearing Principles

This section uses the Indigenous child rearing principles developed in the Warriki Report to understand the diversity of Indigenous beliefs and practice in regards to the rearing of children. The Warriki Report (2002:15) proposes a unique Indigenous framework of “four key principles underpinning matters regarding growing up children”;

Tjukurpa – (in Luritja and Pitjantjatjara) or the dreaming or the Law.

Waltja – which means the family including the extended family.

Ngurra – which means the home, the land, the country.

Kanyini (or Mardarni in Walpiri) – which means to hold everything, keeping

everything together. In relation to children it is about looking after, minding, and

managing.

These concepts can be translated as worldview and belief system (Tjukurpa), importance of family (Waltja), importance of ties to country (Ngurra), and systems of care (Kanyini).

113 The spirit of these Indigenous child rearing principles is embodied by the example provided by Mandell et al (2003:5). They cite the Canadian Royal Commission on Aboriginal

Peoples (1996: vol. 3:23) which states;

Children hold a special place in Aboriginal cultures. According to tradition, they

are gifts from the spirit world and must be treated very gently lest they become

disillusioned with this world and return to a more congenial place. … “They bring

a purity of vision to the world that can teach their elders. They carry within them

the gifts that manifest themselves as they become teachers, mothers, hunters,

councillors, artisans and visionaries. They renew the strength of the family, clan,

and village and make the elders young again with their joyful presence.

This Canadian Indigenous view of the role of children combines the importance of their worldview, with the importance of the extended family.

These Indigenous child rearing principles reflect the pre-European contact living environment of Indigenous groups. They served to ensure that the Indigenous groups were able to flourish in conditions that were often harsh and uncompromising like the Australian desert or the Sami’s freezing winters. That is, these principles were functional for the

Indigenous groups.

Worldview and Belief System

The Indigenous child rearing principles establishes that there is a distinctive Indigenous worldview that provides the structure and meaning for the child rearing practices and beliefs. For Australian Indigenous people from the central desert, Tjukurpa is their

114 worldview or epistemology. In describing the complexity of this Australian Indigenous concept, I draw on the work of Tonkinson (various works) with the Mardu in Jigalong, and

Myers (1986) with the Pintubi both closely related to the Wiluna Martu. These groups identify the Dreaming and the Law as Tjukurpa or Tjukurrpa or djugurba.

For the Pintubi Tjukurpa is a basic view of reality. Myers (1986:47) records that the

Pintubi say;

It’s not our idea, it’s a big law. We have to sit down alongside of that law like all

the dead people who went before us.

For the Mardu in Jigalong the Dreaming and the Law dictates how a person should live.

Tonkinson (2004:94) describes that;

The ideal person should be an active provider as a parent, a child of parents, and in

Law, he or she would show strong compassion for others and respect for their

individuality and integrity. They would also be deeply attached both to family and

homeland and a full and unquestioning participant in all aspects of religious life.

This ideal Mardu should adhere to “a strict and complex code at the heart of which was a four section kinship system composed of four exogamous (out marrying) groups with a complex set of prescriptions which govern the most important facets of life”

(Tonkinson:2004:94). Children learn about or are socialised in the correct ways of living for the Mardu.

115 Tonkinson (1991:57-64) also states:

denial by Mardu of human creativity in favour of the world creative acts of spiritual

powers leads them to regard their kinship system, marriage rules, social categories,

and so on as givens, part of a master plan bequeathed them by the creative beings

of the Dreaming – and so imperatives, because the law demands conformity to

them.

According to Mandell et al (2003:5) the Canadian First Nation’s worldview informs and influences the way children are seen. They describe the process where;

Elders, for example, recounted stories and legends which delighted children and

gave them insight into the habits of animals and birds which would enable them to

learn about the natural world; this was critical for their survival. Legends were

also used to instill values, beliefs and understanding of the whole continuum of life

experiences and contexts. Children were considered part of the interdependent web

of life connected to all life forms, the environment and spiritual world. All

relationships, including family and community, were emphasized as sites of respect

and learning.

The importance of Tjukurpa as a principle of child rearing is that it is the creation story and it sets down the rules for life that are unchanging and unchangeable by human beings.

Tjukurpa directly links a child’s conception to a spirit that is an “incarnation of an ancestral being” (Myers:1986:47). Whilst the Tjukurpa seems rigid and inflexible to a non-

116 Indigenous person, the concept of family or Waltja is the opposite in that it is inclusive as it is flexible about who comes within the definition of Waltja.

Importance of Family

Both groups of writers (Indigenous and non-indigenous) focus on the important role of family in Indigenous child rearing as it is the institution that provides the caring and nurturance for the children. The unique characteristics of Indigenous families are that they are large and extended, where child rearing is shared by this large group, and responsible for ensuring that the children learn about the important aspects of their culture and life.

A range of Indigenous cultures view family as a broad group who share the care of children. According to Myers (1986:109) the Pintubi have a broad definition of family and that “One’s walytja are not necessarily ones consanguines. They include those with whom one grows up, those with whom one is familiar, those who have fed or cared for one, those with whom one camps frequently.” He concludes that, “Official representations of Pintubi social life stress that they are one family or are all related” and that, “Walytja specifies a sense of belonging together or shared identity.” Similarly, Kolar and Soriano (1998:3) explain that extended families are part of that system of caring for children in the Torres

Strait Islands. Also for the First Nations Canadians (Mandell et al:2003:5) “family has traditionally included grandparents, aunts and uncles. Caring for a child was shared among immediate family and extended members, and kin networks had important functions in the education of children.”

117 The role played by family or Waltja is seen in the statement by Myers (1986:109) about the

Pintubi, “The family is where children learn how to live, how to behave, how to treat people and to respect everything.” Similarly, the Warriki report, considers Waltja’s role to be to encourage and teach children, to be “emotionally resilient and responsive”, who they are related to and what they can expect from the relations, “within the realms of warmth and security” of family. Kolar and Soriano (1998:3) stress the shared responsibility of parenting “among a host of significant others”. Batrouney and Soriano (2001) also share this view of Torres Strait islanders parenting.

Another aspect of the Waltja or family is relatedness, which is described by Myers

(1986:110) as a “web of mutual obligation and relatedness between the people … based on the need for help from each other.” Tonkinson (2004:93-94) maintains that:

Kinship is one of the most powerful integrating institutions in the desert, converting

stranger to family and giving people a ready made framework, not only for placing

all other in relation to oneself, but for ascertaining appropriate behavioural

patterns. These patterns bind people into obligations and responsibilities and in

turn make for peaceable interaction and a sense of belonging.

Teaching children about relatedness is a significant role of the family. In writing about the

Pintubi Myers (1986:107) explains that, “Essentially, such maturation depends on the ability to recognize one’s relatedness to others, and to subdue one’s will in order to sustain relatedness.” For the Kukatja (Peile:1997:16) emphasis “is on learning about and adjusting to its social and natural environment.” Similarly Mardu children (Tonkinson:1982:117),

“were continually reminded by adults of their kin relationships to others and of correct

118 behaviours expected between such kin.” Writing later Tonkinson (1991:59) comments;

“Nevertheless, they are born into a world of kinship statuses and hear kin terms in constant use, so as soon as they are considered capable of assimilating knowledge they are taught the shoulds and should nots of behaviour towards various kin.” The observations of the

Pintubi, Martu and Kukatja peoples by the respective authors show that the children are taught, reminded and are able to learn about their relatedness not only to people in their extended family, the language group and the surrounding groups but also to their Ngurra and where they fit in the spirit world.

These examples show the composition and role of Indigenous family in bringing up children. They also show that a broad range of people take responsibility for the care of the children, and that family is where the children are taught who are their relations and their responsibilities. This Indigenous instruction is indirect and allows children to learn by experience and modeling behaviours.

Importance of Ties to Country

The Warriki Report talks about Ngurra or country as a child care principle, and it is a concept that links people to the Dreaming sites or home. This is an important part of

Indigenous life and is a distinctive aspect of Indigenous peoples rearing of their children.

In a previous chapter, I cite Foley (2003:46) who describes “Indigenous philosophy” as having “three interacting worlds”. One of these worlds is “The physical world is the base that is land.” Foley describes the Indigenous belief that, “The land is the mother, and we are of the land. We do not own the land the land owns us. The land is our food, our culture, our spirit and our identity.” Foley is referring to a broad Indigenous conception

119 that includes Indigenous Australians and places the ties to country as a central part of all

Indigenous worlds.

Tonkinson (2004:92 – 94) provides a specific example of the role of Ngurra or ties to country in child rearing. He describes that there are “direct links between features in an area of land and the language itself” that originate from the Dreaming. That is, “the language is linked to a place and people speak that dialect because they too are linked to the

Ngurra”. For example, children who are “Gardujarra are not Gardujarra because they speak the dialect but because they are otherwise linked to it.”

In We are Coming to the Light of Day a report in memory of a First Nations boy who died in tragic circumstances, Blackstock et al (2005:Prologue) comment;

This report provides the clear evidence needed to ensure First Nations children and

families receive what is rightfully theirs – a chance to live with dignity, in the ways

of their ancestors, safely at home.

Whilst they do not specifically refer to ties to country, it is inferred through reference to ancestors and home.

The Indigenous ties to their country or traditional lands are important for the continuing life of the group. They maintain the links to land through ritual and ceremony and the land in turn provides food and shelter. This important link between people and land is a central aspect of the socialisation and education of Indigenous children. When that link is broken,

120 an important aspect of the person’s Indigenousness is lost. This link has spiritual, social, and cultural importance.

Systems of Care

The Warriki Report labels the Australian Indigenous desert groups’ system of care for children as Kanyini. It is a system of caring and nurturing of all people but especially of children. This concept was first described by Myers in his book Pintubi Country Pintubi

Self (1986). He suggested that holding was an analogy for Kanyini saying that it evokes the strength and emotion of a parent ‘holding’ a young baby to their chest. It is a difficult concept to understand that is often problematised by non-Indigenous people. The

Indigenous system of care of children is a further example of the level of difference of

Indigenous child rearing practices and beliefs. Folds (2001) also considers this to be an important concept.

Kanyini seems to be an idea or a concept that is only recognised by Australian Indigenous groups from the desert area. However, it does seem to be revealed but not named in descriptions of child rearing in other parts of Indigenous Australia. Hamilton (1981a) in her work on the Anbarra describes a system of care where the broad extended family cares for the children social, emotional, and spiritual wellbeing in a comprehensive manner.

The concept of Kanyini was explored by McCoy (2004:4 - 6) in his PhD thesis

Kanyirninpa: health, masculinity, and wellbeing of desert Aboriginal men. He describes

Kanyirninpa, Kanyini, or holding, as an integral element of family life and it “is disclosed as authority with nurturance, where older generations assume the responsibility to care for and look after younger people.’ He argues that, “Kanyirninpa also holds in balance two

121 other key cultural patterns of desert life, autonomy and relatedness. These values are transmitted across generations where they provide desert society with identity, cohesion, and strength.” McCoy (2004:4 - 6) identifies that this system of growing up children also has a significant spiritual dimension saying that Kanyini makes the connection with

Tjukurpa at ceremonial times where “the meanings of the ancestral tjukurrpa (dreaming) are celebrated and renewed. Desert society is reproduced as the deeper, social, and cosmic meanings around ngurra (land), walytja (family) and tjukurrpa are gathered, ritualised and re-enacted. The older generations of men and women enable this holding to occur”. The importance of this description for my work with the Martu is that McCoy (2004:4-6) shows the connection between each of these child rearing principles and the spiritual dimension of

Indigenous life.

Kanyini is evidenced by “the provision of food exercises an important and regular ingredient”. (McCoy: 2004:31). “It confirms, in daily and practical ways, that younger people are being held and older people care for them; it also confirms the gift of food as a powerful symbol of that relationship.” McCoy concludes, “from birth Puntu babies come to learn that their need for food, and the obligations of older walytja to provide them with food, are closely and intimately connected.” This concept also can be used to “describe those who have played some part in a person’s ‘growing up’ ” as there are usually a number of people who grow up children and this relationship is enduring throughout life. McCoy

(2004:34,41) comments that, “As older people ‘grow up’ younger people, they protect and take responsibility for those under their care.” It is not enough “to simply care and feed others” they have to be “brought up the right way”. McCoy argues that “Kanyirninpa involves the transmission and teaching of appropriate cultural behaviour. It assumed a moral responsibility for another.”

122

The autonomy of the individual is an aspect of Pintubi life that is related to Kanyini. It is identified by Myers (1986:110) who maintains that, “Autonomy is basic, realizing itself through relations.” Autonomy is seen in to child rearing according to Myers (1986:110) when;

The parental concern for a child’s well-being does not restrict its independence for

its own welfare. Children are granted autonomy of desire. If a child does not want

to eat, that is regarded as his business. Indeed, children are expected to assert

themselves to gain satisfaction for their desires. Related others become for them a

necessary part of achieving their own desires. … Those who help are considered

Walytja.

Autonomy of the individual as a characteristic of a system of care encourages children to be independent and express “free will” (Folds:2001:45 – 47). It is the role of family or Waltja to respond to the child’s assertions or autonomy.

In her work with the Anbarra Hamilton (1981a:127) argues this Indigenous system of care,

“trusts the child’s knowledge of its own states, both physical and emotional. Each child is treated solely on the merits of its actual concrete situation at the moment.” She describes autonomy as the “assertive and independent child” and suggests that this theme guides the way children are cared for and how their physical, social, and spiritual development is achieved. Hamilton (1981a: 76 – 84) concludes that Anbarra children “are masters of their own social world, tolerated and indulged in their demands, with an assured place beside a

123 number of different adults and children to whom they are tied by bonds of kinship and daily interaction.”

According to Javo, Ronning, and Heyerdahl (2004:68) the environment of hunters and gatherers plays a significant role in determining the way their children are reared. Javo et al (2004:68) refer to Barry, Child & Bacon (1959) who analysed “child-rearing in 104 societies from an ecological perspective”. Barry and his colleagues concluded that in

“hunting and gathering societies with low levels of food accumulation” … “child-rearing practices emphasized assertiveness, autonomy, achievement, and self-reliance”. The research by Barry et al (1959) explains that the child rearing practices of hunters and gatherers promotes autonomy of children.

Javo et al (2004:67) found that the Sami children were “socially independent, practiced self regulation of food and sleep”, and that “Sami parents try to live in an unstructured way live only partly by the clock and practice unscheduled eating and sleeping”. According Javo,

Alapack, Heyerdahl and Ronning (2003:151) Sami consider the child rearing values of

“independence, hardness, autonomy, and closeness/love” to be very important.

The autonomy of children is also evidenced in Canadian First Nation’s culture. Mandell et al (2003:6) say that, “Cree Elder Stanley McKay has noted that within the community of his childhood there was a strong belief that children should be permitted to learn from their own mistakes. As well, youngsters were free to eat when hungry, and sleep when tired.”

The importance of Kanyini as child care principle is that it is a system of care that ensures that Indigenous children are comprehensively cared for, educated and kept safe in both

124 material and spiritual ways by a wide range of people. It forms part of the ‘web of relatedness’, which ensures that Indigenous children grow up in a safe environment where they are able to experience and learn about their culture, family, and environment.

Indigenous Child Rearing Practices

There are distinctive Indigenous child rearing practices that are related to these principles.

They serve to reinforce the strength and independence of Indigenous children.

Learning

Indirect instruction is a characteristic of Indigenous groups that is based on the value of autonomy. According to the Warriki report (2002), desert Indigenous groups use two methods of teaching and learning. The first is experimental learning, which involves observation and doing, and this is for practical skills. They provide an example of this saying, “Learning is from dreaming stories and through travelling through country and being told about the importance of certain land forms. This happens from the car as they go on hunting or travelling between communities.” The second is “teaching and learning through verbalisation in real life contexts and this is for naming and social skills”. The example given of this style of learning is that “kinship ties are constantly referred to in an interaction between young babies and children”.

125 A number of authors comment on the practice of Indigenous people encouraging learning by children by doing, observing and through gentle guidance and the consequence that there is no expectation especially the younger children, that they will assume any responsibility. Peile (1997:16) says of the Kukatja that, “Aboriginal culture leaves a child virtually untrammelled for five or six years (Stanner 1979:99).” Tonkinson (1982:117-130) comments, “In the desert environment, children were allowed free rein to do as they pleased within very broad limits”. Hamilton (1981a: 76 – 84) in writing about the Anbarra comments “They (children in 3 – 5 age group) are given no codes of behaviour and are taught no ‘moral’ laws. Their main source of learning is by emulation of other children and adults not by special training, and certainly not by threats or promised rewards.”

The purpose of these Indigenous ways of learning is to promote “assertiveness, autonomy, achievement, and self-reliance” (Barry et al:1959) which ensure that the group was able to survive in the harsh pre and post colonisation environments.

Rites of Passage

Rites of passage, refers to the steps taken by a society when children pass through stages of development on their way to becoming or being considered to be adult or full members of their group. The Warriki report (2002) comment on this process saying that for Yapa

“access is determined by age, sex and proved readiness”. This process is very well described by Myers (1986:248) who says that, “Pintubi socialisation of children focuses on being able to communicate appropriate emotional states. … As children grow and demonstrate that they are developing this understanding they are gradually introduced to more knowledge.”

126 In the Australian Indigenous world, the specific timing of the transition to adulthood varies between different language groups, but begins with initiation for the males and after menstruation for the females. Indigenous people consider the achievement of the adult status as being associated, (Peile 1997:21) “not with physical age, but with changes in physique of the boys and girls. Age is assessed relative to the other members of the society, or in ceremonial or marital status.” Hamilton (1981a:16-17) comments for the

Anbarra child that, “childhood is held to end before puberty for the Anbarra. The 11 to 16 year old, while not yet an adult is certainly not a child either, and this is clearly recognized.”

The actual rite of passage for Indigenous women, according to Myers (1986:248) is

“similar to the men’s: from passive to autonomous, from nurtured to nurturing. For women, however, childhood is followed directly by marriage and child bearing. Women develop their status directly by looking after children. Young women, like their male counterparts are unable to make the transition their own. They obtain supervision and help from older women.”

McCoy (2004:10) offers a description of the initiation of Kukatja young men. He says that the boy:

is becoming both an adult male body and an adult male person. The transformation

of a boy into an adult male is accompanied by important cultural meanings that are

intimately linked with his physical body. His body is not just a vehicle of entry into

men’s ‘business’, a world that is carefully separated from that of women. Initiation

127 transforms him, person, and body, into an adult body where new social

relationships are configured and developed.

The transition from child to adult in Australian Indigenous desert groups is achieved when the individual is assessed by the child’s significant relatives, as being physically and socially ready. The event is marked by significant ceremonies for men that mark the transition from child to adult. There are no large ceremonies for the process of transition from girl to woman.

‘Growing Up’ Children

Those who play a role in Indigenous societies in the rearing of the children fall within a broad definition of family or Waltja. There are set stages identified in the way the

Indigenous child is cared for and who it relates to, in the Warriki report (2002). They say that, between 0 – 6 months the baby only has close contact with mother and other close relatives including male relatives. Between 6 – 9 months when the baby is able to sit the mother becomes less attentive and the child becomes public property where they are passed from person to person. In the age 9 – 18 months there continues to be a close attachment to mother and this is an important learning period provided by mother. The final stage is between 18 – 24 months where the child begins to move out of mother’s sight and mothers watch from a distance. The important and central role of grandmothers in the care of grandchildren and support of the extended family is seen by the Warriki report (2002) as being of equal responsibility and often being a primary care giver.

According to Hamilton (1981a:76 - 84), the peer group or a group of age mates plays a role with the rearing of Anbarra children. She argues, “The peer group takes over some of the

128 functions that we consider the preserve of parents, particularly those concerned with elimination, washing and wearing clothes.” She goes on to comment that, “The most important function, however, is the setting for play which it provides, and the kind of play the children indulge in, unregulated (but in sight) by adults, ranges from intense manipulation of things to wild horse play.”

In Indigenous groups from the Australian desert, children move into the peer group of mixed age children at around 3 years. The Warriki report (2002) concludes that, “A significant part of the child’s learning, care, and support comes from the peer group.” They go on to say that, “the peer groups tend to be divided by gender with boys hunting and girls playing mothers and babies. Boys and girls play separately”. As they get older, children gradually move further from their family group, although still within the community. As the child starts to play and explore with a peer group, older children in that group take on a teaching, behaviour modelling and modification role.

The conclusion is drawn by the Warriki report (2002) is that the role of Indigenous fathers is poorly documented in the literature. However, they go on to say that fathers are observed to have a close role in the care of children and young boys especially are indulged by their fathers. They suggest that the father’s role is to supervise mother to see that she is responsible.

The extended family or Waltja continues to play a significant role in the care of Indigenous children. A broad group of people related to the child take responsibility for the holding or

Kanyini of the child, including Indigenous fathers. The peer group or group of age mates

129 assumes a role around the age of three and continue to play an important role in the process of growing up.

Use of Language

According to the Warriki report (2002), Aboriginal children in the desert are surrounded by a “rich and linguistically complex environment, often consisting of at least two languages and several dialects. Indigenous language is used in early socialisation of children even when mothers who are bilingual.” They report that English is rarely used at home and that at later stages the peer group plays an important role in language development.

Sign language is also an important component of Indigenous communication (Warriki report:2002) where young children “demonstrated extensive capabilities in areas of comprehension and receptiveness but communication was largely in the form of gestures and vocalisations” and that “sign language and non verbal communication is important and is taught and encouraged to young children.” As a result, “children with hearing and language difficulties are not set apart for the normal family or peer routines.”

The environment of these desert Indigenous groups is multi linguistic and sign language plays an important role in communication.

Discipline

Discipline of children has long been a contentious subject amongst western cultures.

Mandell et al (2003:6) say that the Canadian First Nations people believe, “that teaching proper ways of behaviour to children is best done by example through behaviour rather than

130 talk.” “Children are also taught to be humble. Expectations of children’s development is

‘minimal’ as is interference in or interruption of their activities, and coercion is avoided”.

Like the Canadian First Nations peoples, Sami parents (Javo, Ronning, and

Heyerdahl:2004:67) tended to use indirect or internal types of control and that they “were less tolerant of child aggression, in the form of temper tantrums and displays of jealousy.”

Javo, Alapack, Heyerdahl and Ronning (2003:161) comment that, “traditional techniques, such as threatening children with supernatural beings, are still used, because they have been shown to serve their function with modern children as well. … However, teasing is still practiced as a mode of socialization, although it is not as pervasive as it once was.” In contrast, Torres Strait Islander parents according to Kolar and Soriano (1998:3) believe that

“physical punishment was the most effective means of managing children’s

‘misbehaviour’.”

Collier et al (1999:230) describes discipline practices of the Palauans. Apparently, there is some lack of clarity of “what actual behaviours might be considered “abuse” or discipline.”

The example is given where a “parent ties the leg of a 2 to 3 year old child with a rope to a post when the parent is unable to directly supervise the child, such as when going to farm.”

Also, “parents are also known to spank a child with a “skobang,” a broom commonly used in the tropics, breaking the skin and leaving scratch marks and bruises, for not doing homework or household chores.” While some parents may see these behaviours as evidence of parental concern based on the parents’ benevolent intentions others may view these as abusive and point to the consequences (e.g., the bruises) as evidence of abuse.”

Importantly Collier concludes that, “any of these situations could be seen as normal or abusive, depending on the perspective and ethnic background of the witness or perpetrator.”

131

The Warriki report (2002) argues that, “Giving in to a young child’s needs and wants does not negate the existence of behaviour control systems which operate at a range of levels, and which aim to encourage children to adhere to the range of behaviours considered appropriate in the cultural context.” For example, “rarely denying a child is modelling generousity.” The Warriki report (2002) makes the important distinction that in desert

Indigenous families “modification of behaviour is done through the extended family or the community as a whole” and that “humour, teasing, surprised responses and use of scary beings are commonly used by adults or peers to indicate to children that their behaviour is undesirable or non-conformist.” The Warriki report (2002) cites Ellis and Petersen (1992) who say that, “societies that value self reliance and autonomy encourage children to develop internal control of their own behaviours.”

The Warriki report (2002) concludes that Indigenous children develop their own controls, and that “whilst verbal commands are given there is an understanding that the child has the ultimate choice as to whether they obey. Instead of practicing unquestioning obedience to the will of another Aboriginal people grow up following examples set by others and respecting whom they like and admire.”

The way Indigenous peoples discipline their children reflects the self directed autonomous nature of childhood. Children’s actions tend to be changed by using indirect measures such as humour and teasing. This again reinforces the importance of independence and self- reliance of hunter and gatherer societies.

132 Prohibited Behaviours

There seems to be some debate around what behaviours are prohibited in Indigenous cultures. There are claims that have tended to distort the actual situation. For example, there is dispute around the occurrence of incest in the Australian Indigenous world and suggestions that it is part of the Indigenous Customary law framework. This and other issues are contentious and it is for this reason, that the literature on the subject in has been reviewed.

In regards to incest, Peile (1997:104) maintained that, “General restrictions on sexual relations of close kin exist in all Aboriginal tribes.” However, he quotes Berndt and Berndt

(1994:84) who argue that there is, “An apparent exception to this restriction exists among the Kukatja who, formally did not frown upon occasional sexual liaisons between a father and his adolescent daughter, a practice they regarded as contributing to her physical development.” However, Peile (1997:105) was told by the Kukatja that, “A person who has (sex) with someone in the wrong kinship relationship to him or her or copulates indiscriminately is considered to act like an animal.” Meggitt (1962:123) is clear that

Warlpiri had an incest taboo. He was told that, “People everywhere asserted that sexual intercourse with an actual or a close classificatory daughter was unheard of. Nor were they coherent about the punishment meted out in the event, other than to state that somebody would have to be killed.”

There are a number of authors who refer to the issue of sexual intercourse with young girls within the framework of promised marriages (but do not refer to unsanctioned sex with young girls) in Australian Indigenous groups. For example, Peile (1997:105) maintains that, “Rape even of pre-adolescent girls does occur on occasion. It generally happens when

133 a man takes by force a girl promised to him in marriage.” In relation to the Anbarra

Hamilton (1981a:123 – 125) argues that, “Since it was believed that a girl could not menstruate until she has intercourse, each female was exposed as early as possible to pregnancy.” Tonkinson (1991:86) explains that with the Mardu “around the age of eleven or twelve, the fortunes of boys and girls begin to diverge markedly. A girl will be soon given to her husband. Considering her tender age and her attachment to his natal group, her husband might remain with his in-laws for some time after being given his new wife”.

Finally, Meggitt (1962:80) discussing the Walpiri explains, “Girls 11 or 12 usually go to promised husband’s family.”

The practice of infanticide, or the killing of infants, is a similarly emotive topic to that of incest and again there is some dispute around the frequency of its occurrence. Evidence of the practice of infanticide in Australian Indigenous culture can be found in writing by a number of authors. Tonkinson (1991:99) comments, “The number of male and female births is about the same, and there is no evidence that infanticide (which is rare in any case) is practiced differentially with regard to an infant’s sex.” Hamilton (1981a:123) is of the view that:

Infanticide did occur, but only in limited and specific situations. Women would not

keep deformed infants, and in early days, they killed babies of mixed descent. One

of the twins would be killed since the mother was said not to have enough milk to

nourish them nor strength to carry them.

134 The oral history, Rene Baker File #28/E.D.P. by Rene Powell and Bernadette Kennedy

(2005:16) recounts the story of Rene’s birth, which occurred at a time the missionaries provided an alternative to the practice of infanticide. The comment;

Before giving birth, a woman and a couple of her sister in laws would camp away

from other people. One of my aunts heard more than one baby crying and came

running to see her sister before anything was done – when twins were born, the

second baby usually wasn’t allowed to survive. She took the second baby to the

missionaries, and that is how my brother and I were separated, then.

The ‘Rene Baker’ story shows the evident compassion of some Indigenous people in that they welcomed the actions of the missionaries as they provided the alternative to the death of a second twin.

The literature on the occurrence of prohibited behaviours such as incest, infanticide, and child sex within promised marriages shows a diversity of practice between Indigenous groups. However, the literature is surprisingly silent on the issues around the initiation of

Indigenous males. The initiation of boys in the Indigenous Australian desert groups involves taking the initiates by force against their will, deprivation of liberty, and genital mutilation. Similar practices used in female initiation in Muslim countries have brought widespread condemnation and calls for the practice to be outlawed.

The differences in Indigenous practices revealed by the literature make it difficult to draw conclusions about Indigenous cultures or to make generalisations. It reinforces the importance of recognising the diversity of practice and beliefs between Indigenous groups.

135

Conclusion

The analysis of the literature on Australian and other Indigenous people’s child rearing beliefs, values, and practices discloses a rich means of ensuring children reach adulthood and their full potential. Throughout this review of the literature, I have referred to

Indigenous diversity, uniqueness, and difference. Rather than implying a comparison, in this case, with the non-Indigenous Europeans, it is used to alert and signify the distinctiveness of the way the Indigenous group brings up their children. If there is to be a comparison, it should be between the Indigenous practices disclosed by the literature and those revealed by the Martu through their stories documented in the following chapters.

The examples of the characteristics of the way children are brought up in Torres Strait

Islanders, Canadian First Nations, Pulauans, Australian Indigenous desert groups, and Sami families all emphasise the diversity of practice. They show the important role of the past and the historical environment in shaping child rearing behaviours and the role of the current environment in shaping contemporary behaviours.

For Indigenous groups from Australia’s deserts the child rearing principles of Tjukurrpa,

Waltja, Kanyini and Ngurra are important. They provide a useful framework for understanding Indigenous child rearing and the way they interrelate serves to reinforce the

“poly-rhetorical” (Louis:2007:134-5) Indigenous ways of operating. These principles are directly related to the life of hunters and gatherers in the harsh environment of the desert.

136 They served to enable the Indigenous groups to successfully thrive and bring up their children for thousands of years.

Of particular importance is the principle of Kanyini or holding. It suggests a comprehensive system of care of children that ensured that there was a range of people to care for children, a process of care for children, and the encouragement of the attributes in the children that enabled them to survive in the uncertain environment of the desert and now in the colonised world of settlements and towns.

Atkinson (2002:xi) argues that cultures change “over time to reflect the changed environments and social interactions of people living together” and the child rearing practices are also changing. The separate processes of migration, colonisation, and assimilation have ensured that many Indigenous people have been pressured to change in the process of adapting to life within a dominant culture.

The Sami have also drawn on values from the past to adapt to the changing world.

According to Javo, Alapack, Heyerdahl and Ronning (2003:161) “Sami parents sense that their children will have to embody the same qualitative strength and hardiness of former days if they are to survive as Sami in the modern Western world. … And they will have to be particularly strong and independent if they are to straddle two worlds: adjust to the new ways of living yet remain connected to their Sami heritage, and retain their own native language and traditional Sami values.”

Similarly, Torres Strait Islander parents, according to Kolar and Soriano (1998:3), also want their children to have a successful future. Torres Strait Islander parents adopted a

137 ‘cultural mapping’ approach, combining traditional and Western values. Islander “parents were faced with the challenging task of passing on Island traditions (which were to a large extent orally transmitted) yet at the same time working to help their children acquire more

‘modern’ skills that they perceived to be important for their children’s future success, especially related to employment.”

The tensions that result from the struggle to preserve culture and traditions whilst developing skills to survive in a modern world, challenge all Indigenous people. The stress resulting from this tension is compounded by tendency of the dominant Western culture to pathologise Indigenous people, their culture, and beliefs around child rearing.

The lack of published information on Australian Indigenous child rearing written by members of the various Indigenous groups is a very real concern. It means that the broad debate on Indigenous child welfare is not being informed by the people directly impacted by that debate. The absence of knowledge about Indigenous child rearing in Australia means that any efforts to address the over representation of Indigenous children in the child welfare system are based on a White worldview, on White child rearing beliefs and values, and on a pathologised perspective on Indigenous people. It is not surprising then that the rate of over representation of Indigenous children is growing each year indicating that the child welfare system is failing Indigenous people.

The next chapter describes the way the Wiluna Martu have chosen to adapt to this tension between Indigenous and Western cultures. It describes the way Martu have tried to maintain their own domain and keep it separate to the dominant white domain and the development of a contested domain where Martu do business with the dominant world.

138 Chapter Four Martu Domain

The retention of difference, albeit at considerable social cost and entrenched disadvantage,

is still strongly preferred by Mardu to the kinds of engagement with the dominant society

that not only assault their sense of self but threaten to overwhelm whatever autonomy

remains to them. (2006 Wentworth Lecture: Tonkinson:2006)

Introduction

This chapter draws on the Njanji family story told in the Prologue and combines it with the framework of Martu domain as described by Tonkinson to understand the three dominant periods in Martu history. These periods are prior to contact with Europeans, the immediate post contact missions period, and the contemporary period. The domain framework is used to understand the influence of the traditional Martu life on their adaption to colonisation, whilst the Njanji story tells of the impacts of the colonisation.

The Njanji story also has three distinct parts, life prior to White contact, post colonisation life in the mission, and life in Wiluna. Each period is characterised by differing influences.

The Martu domain was ‘life’ for the Martu in the desert prior to colonisation as there were only Indigenous influences. After being forced from the desert the family were left at a

Mission at Jigalong where the Martu domain operated but in parallel and in opposition to the White domain of the Mission. When the family was thrown off the Mission and they eventually settled in the town of Wiluna, their life was seriously impacted by the influences

139 of the White domain. Their story shows the decline in influence of the Martu domain, but not importance, and the growth of the impact of the White domain on the life of the Martu.

The Martu domain provides this thesis with a way of understanding life for the Martu prior to contact with Europeans and of understanding the way that they have adapted to Western influences. The Njanji story ensures that the discussion of history remains focussed on the actual experiences of the Martu.

The Martu Domain

The domain framework used in this thesis is based on Tonkinson’s (1978) work with the

Mardu in Jigalong and his deliberations since the 1970s. It is larger than Tonkinson (1978) envisaged because the framework he suggested refers to a period in time when the wider

‘White or European or Western domain’ did not surround and exert its power as it does now in all aspects of Martu life. This is understandable as Tonkinson (1978) was focussed on life within the mission settlement of Jigalong at a time when the White domain had not broken down the barriers of remoteness. At the time, the Jigalong area was physically isolated and the inward looking intensity of settlement life would have served to limit the perceived and actual impact of the White domain. Now some forty years later, life in the town of Wiluna is far more complex and the suggested domain framework reflects this complexity.

I have used the term Wiluna Martu domain or just Martu domain to encompass the cultural and historical characteristics that are specific to the Martu in Wiluna. The support for this

140 position comes from the assertion by many Indigenous people that they are culturally diverse, and are different to other Indigenous groups. The Martu were no different and they talked about their difference from White Australians and other Indigenous groups.

The other parts of this larger domain framework are the contested and White domains. The contested domain is where White and Indigenous business is conducted. It is contested because of the growing power and influence of Indigenous groups, it is where the two domains with their different worldviews meet to do business, and it is where White -

Indigenous tensions are played out. The contested domain is local in that it is where the particular Indigenous domain is located. It is where the ‘top down’ state and national level

Indigenous Affairs policies and programs are ‘creatively modified’ to fit local Indigenous realities. It is the public place or space in Wiluna where Martu and the White interact and where their worlds clash. The contested domain is also, where those aspects of Martu life, that are not part of Tjukurrpa such as alcohol and drugs, gambling, Western education and interaction with the justice system takes place. As such, it is a space of conflict and of violence unrestrained by the Martu cultural constraints. The Martu domain has become the private space where all aspects of their life controlled by Tjukurrpa are lived.

The White domain is everything that is dominated by Western worldview, values, laws, and practices, where the language of choice is English and the dominant religion is Christian. It acts in a way that serves to homogenise other cultures and denies their existence. The

White domain represents the colonising force that serves to deny Martu culture, history, and language.

141 The Martu domain is named and labelled from within the White domain. It is a White concept that is used to attempt to understand Martu life from the outside. The domain idea is based on observations of and conversations with Martu within the contested domain.

The borders between the domains are fluid and permeable. Whilst membership of the

White and Martu domains is based on race there are particular exceptions to this rule.

The White domain is physically, emotionally, and spiritually located away from the remote areas of Australia and turns its back on the centre and looks outwards to the world from around the Australian coast and hinterland. It is the economically powerful force of the colonisers that is based in cities around the southern coast of Australia. As Cowlishaw

(2003:103) explains:

It has been sadly observed that “settler society” consists of immigrant peoples from

Europe who tend to cling to the coastal rim and have only a superficial relationship

with the vast continent whose heart is inhabited and owned by Indigenous people,

with their ancient, spiritual, and nurturant relationship with the land.

Similarly, Taylor (2006a:45) comments that:

it is worth noting that parallels exist between the modern-day classification of

remote areas and the historic distinctions drawn between ‘colonial’ and ‘settled’

Australia in recognition of the much higher proportions of Indigenous people in

remote areas, and the somewhat different manner of their incorporation into wider

social and economic structures (Rowley 1971). …. away from the larger mining

towns and service centres of the outback, reference has been made to the notion of

142 Indigenous ‘domains’ in the sense that Indigenous people and their institutions tend

to predominate (Sutton 1995).

The White domain surrounds and pressures the Martu domain in the desert. Prior to the arrival of the agents of colonisation, the explorers, missionaries, and pastoralists, the Martu domain was their country or Ngurra. It was the sole domain that envisaged no other, apart from the domains of the surrounding Indigenous groups such as the Ngaanyatjarra, Pintubi and Koara.

In the contemporary world of the Martu in Wiluna, their domain is that part of Martu life in

Wiluna that is held apart from, and is separate to, the White world and most of its influences. The Martu domain contains the Tjukurrpa or the Law, it is focussed on maintenance of relationships within their Walta or extended family, it is located wherever the Martu are (usually in or near their Ngurra or their country), and where outsiders

(Whites) are largely excluded. It is a space where the Martu are in control and has spiritual, geographical, and spatial characteristics.

Blagg (2007:3) sees the Indigenous domain as the site of Aboriginal resistance. He suggests that; “Instead of looking at Aboriginal issues as though Aboriginal people were simply an extremely disadvantaged, marginalised - even `hyper-marginalised' - sub-section of Australian society, we should view Aboriginal Australia as constituting, in a number of crucial respects, a separate society, or domain, with its own distinctive Laws.” It is Blagg’s

(2007:3) view that the Aboriginal domain has played a central role as “part of their long resistance” and serves to keep their own subjugated knowledge alive through the practice of

143 Law and ceremony, through the maintenance of kinship obligations, through story telling and through respect for the traditional wisdom and knowledge of elders.”

‘Aboriginal domains’, as Blagg (2007:2-3) calls the Indigenous domain, are not limited to particular locations and includes the possibility that these ‘domains’ travel with Indigenous people or exist where they happen to congregate. He broadens the concept by including the full range of Indigenous spaces and the importance of domains in the maintenance and preservation of Aboriginal knowledge and language. Blagg (2007:4) makes the suggestion that “domain should not be conceived of in strictly geographic terms” recommends a more contemporary broader use of the term that suits an urban environment. He is of the view that “there are Aboriginal domains dotted around urban and sub-urban space where

Aboriginal people have traditionally congregated, they include particular parks and open spaces, Aboriginal cultural and social organisations and parts of `Aboriginal sector'.” His conception of the Aboriginal domain is similar to that of the Martu domain, in that it is where their Ngurra is located. That is, Ngurra can be where people camp, where they live, where their Walta are, and where their Tjukurrpa Ngurra (traditional country) is located. It therefore can be said that the Martu domain is where the Martu Ngurra is at that time and that their domain does not exist without the Martu. For example when Martu live in Perth, as they often have to do to access medical services, their house becomes a Martu domain.

It attracts Walta and other Martu when they are in Perth, and acts as a sanctuary for those away from their Ngurra.

The domain concept is central to this thesis but only as it was presented by the Martu in

Wiluna during the research field work. That is, the observations and comments are context

144 and time specific. However, the concept has been identified in other areas of Indigenous

Australia by a number of writers.

The writers, who recognise and have used the concept of Aboriginal or Indigenous domain are Tonkinson (1978), Trigger (1992), Rowse (1992), Sutton (1995), Myers (1986), Folds

(2001), Cowlishaw (2004, 2004a), Holcombe (2005), Peterson (2000), von Sturmer (1984) and more recently Blagg (2007, 2007a). All have differing understandings of the concept.

For example, Trigger writes about the Indigenous group at Doomagee, Peterson refers to

Western Desert groups, Tonkinson about the Mardu in Jigalong, Cowlishaw with the groups of far Western New South Wales, Holcombe writes about the Luritja in

Amunturrngu, Blagg draws on Kimberley groups from outside the desert block and

Indigenous people living in settled and urban areas, and Folds and Myers about the Pintubi but at different times.

My interpretation of domain is driven by the insight offered by the Wiluna Martu. Their stories say that there are significant differences between and within Wiluna Martu families resulting from the pre-contact culture and post contact histories of those involved. This diversity of culture and experience within the Wiluna Martu suggests that whilst the concept of the Indigenous domain may have universal application that it is likely that there are a range of manifestations that are unique to each Indigenous dialect group and perhaps family group. Diversity of pre-contact culture and post-contact experience is an important characteristic of Indigenous Australia. It is likely that each of the authors who proffer a definition and talk about the Aboriginal domain do so based on their observations, experiences and relationships with a particular Indigenous group at a particular time in a specific location.

145

For example, Rowse (1992:19) says that von Sturmer (1984:219) referred to the;

Aboriginal domain as being found in parts of Australia in which the dominant

social life and culture are Aboriginal, where the major language or languages are

Aboriginal, where the system of knowledge is Aboriginal; in short where the

resident Aboriginal population constitutes the public.

This approach is largely geographical and denies the possibility that urbanized Indigenous groups maintain their own domain. It also reflects von Sturmer’s focus on the desert areas.

Rowse (1992:100) provides a simple definition of the Indigenous domain, saying it is “a structure of political relations, of honour and indebtedness, of relatively unfettered consumption of time.” Rowse usefully includes the influence of time and avoids the conception that domain is solely geographically located. Trigger (1986:99) takes a different approach and defines it in terms of “distinctive spheres of thought, attitudes, social relations, and styles of behaviour”. Blagg (2007:2) offers a more recent conception of the

Aboriginal domain, and defines it as “those spaces where the dominant languages, cultures, structures of sentiment and feeling are Aboriginal.” His definition reflects his urban and settled remote area experiences and allows for the existence of the Indigenous domain in all places/spaces where Indigenous Australians live however fleetingly. Tonkinson confirms the continuing presence and role of a separate Aboriginal domain in Mardu society in

Jigalong in his 2006 Wentworth Lecture.

146 It is important for me that these writers recognise the existence of the Indigenous domain, and describe how each group structures their domain. However, my approach to domain that is informed by the Martu, is built on the principle of the diversity of Indigenous culture and experience, does not attempt to essentialise the concept of domain, and serves to include rather than exclude expressions of the Indigenous domain. For me the Indigenous domain is the place and/or space that contains all aspects of Indigenous life within their control and excludes most Whites.

The presence of the Martu domain in Wiluna was indicated by a number of key events and characteristics of Martu life. The most significant was the 2007 Law time when the ceremonies to initiate young men were held. At this time the Martu domain seemed to assert its dominance of the town of Wiluna. The Martu have and continue to use their domain as a site of resistance, which gave no hint of its potential power and influence. The

2006/7 Law ceremonies revealed this potential. During the final round of Law ceremonies in March 2007, the Martu domain expanded and took over the towns when the Law arrived.

The Law processes disclosed a different and important authority usually contained in the

Martu domain. It is an important time for the Martu. As an Indigenous town, most residents of Wiluna were either aware of or involved in the Law. The focus of the town shifted to Bondini and to the timing of the Law ceremonies held in the late afternoon and night. Those involved in the Law enforced strict rules around access to the law grounds at

Bondini.

The Martu domain was also seen in the Southern Martu Native Title Claim process, which operated throughout the field work period. These involved complex meetings, which routinely brought together Martu in Wiluna. The meetings represented both the Martu and

147 the contested domain in that the knowledge being used to assert native title resides in the

Martu domain but has to be brought out into the contested domain where it is ‘tested’ by the White legal process. The importance of these gatherings was seen in the attendance of large groups of Martu at the meetings and the fact that the process took precedence over all other events in the town.

The conduct of the funerals also showed the Martu domain. Funerals are very important events for the Martu. When a person dies all those people closely related to the deceased have to move into a ‘sorry camp’ or binji in the bush. Martu do not seem to have a choice as it is a responsibility of the deceased’s Walta. Both compliance with the funeral processes and attendance at the funeral are seen as important ways of showing respect and appropriately mourning for the deceased and their family. The Walta gathers around the mourners and shares their grief closing out the White domain both by the isolated bush setting of the Binji and by act of grieving as a family.

Martu child rearing also suggests the Martu domain. Whilst this is a topic for the following chapters, it can be said that most Martu children are reared exclusively in the Martu domain and only emerge when they have to go to hospital or attend pre-school. Prior to this time, they are nurtured in a unique Martu way that ensures that they can live successfully in that domain. For example they only speak Martu dialects, they know who their Walta is, are very comfortable in the bush, understand some of their Tjukurrpa and learn by being shown and through observation. Even though children have contact with institutions such as the health service, the supermarket, the police, and ‘the welfare’, it is from within the warmth and influence of their Walta where they are ‘held’. Even children who have to leave

Wiluna for hospitalisation continue to be held by Walta as atleast one or two people go

148 with the child. It seems even those families who did not adequately ‘hold’ their Tjitji largely because of alcohol abuse still operate from within the Martu domain. It is with the beginning of the ‘school years’ that children have to leave the Martu domain and negotiate the contested domain. The influence of the contested domain continues to grow with the children, as does the tension between the White and Martu domains.

Even though the Wiluna Martu domain has reduced in size and has become more fragmented in response to the growing influence of the White domain, its importance has not declined. It exists within Indigenous settlements such as Bondini or Kukabubba, in people’s Ngurra (their country), in their home, when they are ‘out bush’ in a Walta group, and where Martu are at a particular time. The Martu domain also moves in and out of places and spaces at different times of the year such as the ceremonies associated with the

Law.

Evolution of the Martu Domain

As the Njanji family story indicates the Martu domain has changed or evolved in response to the influence of colonisation. When the family lived in the desert there was only the

Martu domain. Their life was surrounded by and solely influenced by this domain. After colonisation, the Martu domain had to adapt to the presence then the growth of the power of the White domain. In the Jigalong Mission, the Njanji family lived within the Martu domain but had to deal with the growing presence and influence of the White domain.

When the power of the White domain was exercised again, this time by the family’s eviction from the Mission, the Martu domain travelled with them and served to guide them

149 to other Martu in Wiluna. In the setting of a town like Wiluna, the Njanji family like other

Martu were surrounded by the White domain but they continued to maintain their own domain in their life at the Bondini Reserve.

Pre-colonisation Martu Domain

The information relating to the Martu domain prior to colonisation is like that of the Njanji story, it is told by non-Indigenous people who are relying on Martu recollections of the past. I rely on the work of Tonkinson (1977, 1978, 1978a, 1981, 1982, 1988, 1989, 1991,

1999, 2001, 2004, and 2006) and Sackett (1977, 1978, 2000, and 2003) with the Martu, and

Folds (2001) and Myers (1986) with the Pintubi who are a neighbouring group to the

Martu. These scholars have relied on the recollections of desert peoples who had lived a traditional life in the 1950’s, 1960’s and 70s. Myers (1986:3) qualifies this approach to documenting Indigenous life and argues “our data on Aboriginal social life are drawn from an ethnographic present that is not entirely the same life people lived before contact with

Whites. But this data [sic] are no less meaningful for this.” Folds (2001) and Myers (1986) identify a number of particularly important aspects of the Martu domain, all of which retain their influence in the contemporary manifestation of the domain.

Prior to colonisation, the Tjukurrpa dominated all aspects of the Martu domain. This can perhaps be best characterised by a circle representing the known Martu world. There was nothing else within their world in pre-colonial times. The Martu were the masters of their part of the desert.

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Martu Domain- Tjukurrpa, Ngurra, and Waltja

The Martu are part of a “Western Desert culturally homogeneous region comprising about a sixth of our continent” (Tonkinson:2006:3). Myers (1986:24) records that the “Western

Desert peoples lived in a harsh environment where the scarcity of water ruled their lives and provided protection from outside groups including Europeans. They had a simple economic life and a complex “social and religious life”.

Tonkinson (2004:92 - 94), (see also Newman et al :1989:24 - 25 and Myers:1986:24) comments that precontact life in the Western Desert was a seasonal pattern “of aggregation and dispersal” caused by the irregularity of rainfall. Groups (of up to 30 people) would disperse to permanent water sources when seasonal waters dried up during the summer. In winter, when water and resources were plentiful, people (up to 200) “would gather at sites of particular abundance” for ceremonies.

Tonkinson (2004:92-94) comments that these climatological factors, “powerfully influenced social outcomes favouring the dominance of cooperation at both intra and inter group levels.” It is Tonkinson’s (2004:104) view that the “dominant ethos of Mardu society, in the sense of its emotional tone, is egalitarian and peaceful, but neither of those

151 major strands that characterise its ambience is an uninterrupted condition. The egalitarian feel of the society is periodically over ridden by hierarchy most in domestic disputes and in men over women.” Mardu life favoured cooperation and avoided conflict.

Western Desert people lived in accordance with their Dreaming or Tjukurrpa. According to Sackett (1977:90-99) the Martu say, “during the Dreaming, great Supernatural Beings gave shape to the previously featureless landscape, and animated earth, water and sky.

Importantly, the Beings also established and laid down a way of life for the people to follow for all time.” Sackett (1977:90-99) argues that the Martu believe that the “Law must be followed or abandoned – no middle ground is envisaged.” An important aspect of the pre-contact Martu domain is unchanging nature of Tjukurrpa and the inability of humans to alter it.

Kinship is another key aspect of the Martu domain. It is the basic organising principle for the Martu and provides the model for interpersonal behaviour. Tonkinson (1991:59) maintains that the kinship system of the Mardu is classificatory, “that is the kinship terms used between people who are consanguines” (blood relatives) “are also applied to more distantly related and unrelated people.” The classificatory system has two principles, in reckoning kin relationships. “Siblings of the same sex are classified as equivalent, so that my father’s brothers are classed along with my father are all called by the same term. The classifying principle can also be expanded to include “a theoretically infinite number of people.” The kinship system has provided the Mardu with “predictability in behaviour” and it “enhances each individual’s sense of self and of belonging.” Tonkinson (1991:59) notes that, “strong feelings of security and well being stem from being enveloped in the cocoon of kin, with all of whom some feeling of mutual obligation and responsibility

152 ideally exists.” This is another area of significance for the Martu Domain, the importance of relatedness and of family and kinship or Walta.

Another concept of importance to precontact Martu life is Ngurra or country where people are closely linked to the Dreaming sites or home. Tonkinson (2004:92 – 94) comments, that there are “direct links between features in an area of land and the language itself” that originate from the Dreaming. That is, “the language is linked to a place and people speak that dialect because they too are linked to the Ngurra”.

Tonkinson (2004:55) specifies that Ngurra has two distinct references. Firstly “to specialised space, in referring to a temporary camp in which people live and secondly to

“an enduring ‘country’ or named place”. … “Ngurra is not only the human creation of camp but is also the Dreaming creation of country.”

A final comment about the precontact Martu Domain is taken from Tonkinson (1991:vi) where he contends that “the Mardu and probably most other Aboriginal cultures welcomed change – so long as it was congruent with existing structures and behaviours. There is no notion of progress in Aboriginal cultures, but there is always change.” This is the last of the important characteristics of the Martu Domain.

What must be remembered is that these Martu values and beliefs dominated pre-contact

Martu life. When the Njanji family were taken from the desert they were within their

Ngurra, they lived their life according to their Tjukurrpa, and within the closeness of their

Walta where all relationships were known and understood.

153 Davenport et al (2005) in Cleared Out documents the process used for forcing people in from the desert during the ‘Blue Streak Rocket’ process. Clearly, the whole experience was extremely frightening. Welfare Officers came into the desert and used their “colonial style authority” to pressure groups of people into vehicles. The people were taken in whatever direction the officers were heading, regardless of the wishes of the passengers. They were left at a ration depot or government settlements or Mission with strangers, often hundreds of kilometres from their own people and country. Many of the present Martu elders were brought in from the desert at this time and placed in missions at Jigalong, Balgo, and La

Grange. Davenport et al (2005:161) comments that these “large, artificial, multilingual settlements soon became repressive environments which produced dependence, cultural destruction, conflict, despair, and violence between different groups.”

It was in these settlements described by Davenport et al (2005) that the Martu were confronted with the Whites for the first time. The colonisation of the Martu Ngurra had been commenced by the removal of Martu from their Ngurra into settlements. Langton

(1993:2) comments that these settlements “were institutions, rather like the hamlets in the military resettlement scheme during the Vietnam War, where people were sent to be

'pacified'.”

The Martu took their values and beliefs along with their memories of their Ngurra with them to Jigalong. They were being forced to move against their will and against their autonomy, from the known by unknown beings, to the unknown world of Jigalong. These

Martu ways form the basis of the Martu domain and are still dominant within the contemporary manifestation of Wiluna Martu domain. They have been preserved by the

154 actions of the Martu in the maintenance of their separate domain and because of the relative brevity of the period of colonisation.

Post Contact Martu Domain

The Njanji family was dumped in Jigalong by the Native Welfare patrol as they left the desert. In a very short period, they had moved from a life where all things were known to a life of great uncertainty. They arrived in Jigalong in a European manner that ignored

Indigenous customs. They were refugees in that they were in another Indigenous group’s

Ngurra. The family was left to become part of life in Jigalong with other Martu, with some of their relatives and left to understand this new world and life.

The information about life in Jigalong for the Martu is taken from the work of Tonkinson

(1978, 2004, 2006), Trigger (1992), Newman et al (1989), Sackett (1977, 1978, 2000, and

2003) and the Njanji story and shares the same handicap as previously of non-Indigenous writers retelling Martu stories. The difference here is that I have been able to draw on the book, Cleared Out by Davenport et al (2003) which is a collaboration between a Martu woman and non-Indigenous writers. It provides a different voice in talking about life in

Jigalong.

For the Njanji family, the Martu domain in Jigalong would have been fundamentally changed. The most significant aspect was that they were no longer living in their Ngurra.

They would not have known when or if they could return to their country.

155 The timing of the arrival of the White colonialists in the Martu domain is of critical importance for this thesis. The Martu Ngurra and domain in the Western Desert only began to be colonised in the last sixty to seventy years. It is my view that the Martu are still in the process of being colonised. Newman et al (1989:22) concurs saying that the

“brutal frontier” is, at most about two generations removed and many people still alive have pursued a relatively pure form of hunter and gatherer lifestyle. A number of older Martu fall into this group and they can actively recall living the hunter and gather lifestyle.

Similarly, some younger people, born in the ‘bush’ on stations, recall a traditional lifestyle that was ‘accommodated’ by the station routine. Davenport (2003:102) comments that

Martu stories “graphically illustrate the immensity of change that the Martu have absorbed over the past forty years, the ubiquity of what would elsewhere seem extraordinary and traumatic episodes.” Gallagher (1988:148) maintains that the last desert families made contact with the welfare patrols in the 1960s when the desert was virtually depopulated and became the site for British rocket tests.

Sackett (1977:90-99) argues that contact with Europeans “has produced changes in

Aboriginal culture (whether or not it is recognised by Aborigines). But unlike the drastic changes brought about in the economic sphere changes in religion and the social organisation have been few and gradual.” Tonkinson (2006:7) agrees that there was much change for the Mardu in the economic or material world of the Europeans and that the

Mardu acted to keep their Law separate resisting change. Tonkinson (2006:10) continues saying that the Mardu “have clung to their differences” and that they want to “retain their distance and level of autonomy” but want the “right to participate freely in some aspects of

Australian society.”

156

Contact with Europeans meant that the Martu had to accommodate a non-Indigenous group within their world for the first time in their long history. I have called the influence and presence of the non-Indigenous people the White domain. It is a domain based on Western values and practices, and especially in the monetary value of property.

Tonkinson (1982) first used the ‘domain’ concept in his paper Outside the Power of the

Dreaming: Paternalism and Permissiveness in an Aboriginal Settlement. This concept is used to describe the post contact tensions created by settlement life in Jigalong, which were similar to that described by Trigger (1992) in Doomagee. In Jigalong, Mardu were torn between their desire to live according to Tjukurrpa and pressure from the Missionaries to live like Christians. Tonkinson (1982:126) maintains this tension was caused because the

Mardu “fear the loss of younger people to the Law much more than they fear the consequences of the children running wild and damaging property or breaking and entering.” They were also concerned about the “potentially dangerous notions about “free choice of spouse” and other aspects of “Whitefella Law” that were promoted by the

Missionaries and were perceived “as desirable” by the younger Mardu.

Tonkinson (2006:3) says in his 2006 Wentworth Lecture that:

As I came to construe it from my fieldwork, the Europeans represented a scale of

difference so drastic and inassimilable that the Mardu consigned them to a

completely separate category, one that lay beyond the bounds of the Dreaming.

[That is, outside the Mardu domain.] The strong denial of human agency at the

heart of their worldview was most probably what had motivated this reaction.

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He goes on to comment that he was unsure whether the Jigalong mob wanted to use the

“power of the Whitefellas” and “that despite their economic dependence on the agencies of the wider society they still controlled their own destiny.” These observations clearly support the continuing role of the Indigenous domain to support and preserve Mardu culture.

The first colonists including pastoralists, missionaries and explorers, whilst small in number, acted as the vanguard for larger groups. Martu have been forced to allow the

White domain to operate along side their domain and share the space of a mission or a ration station or a pastoral station. This adaptation has ensured that the Martu have been able to maintain their domain, albeit in a diminished way, with its authority and power provided by the authority of Tjukurrpa, and is nurtured by family or Walta, and based in

Ngurra as home rather than country.

Conflict between the Martu and the Whites was inherent in the arrangements for living in a place like Jigalong. In the early days of the mission, the two domains existed side by side with limited conflict. People tended to move between the domains as suggested by Trigger

(1992:79) with little influence on the other’s domain. Tension between the two domains grew when the each of the domains tried to operate in the same space such as care of children or when representatives of one entered the other domain such as Martu children damaging the property of the mission at Jigalong (Tonkinson:1978).

Trigger (1992:79, 87, 221) provides an example of this tension in his description of

Doomadgee mission. He says there was the “Whitefella domain (consisting of residents of

158 White staff and the buildings and the fittings housing the institutions and enterprises that serviced the settlement) and the village the Blackfella domain (contains the Aboriginal residences and there are no service facilities in the Black domain).” Each domain had their separate set of values associated with it. The “Blacks” would “go to the White domain for specific purposes during working hours” and stay away at other times. Whites were largely excluded from the “Black” domain. Trigger (1986:116), cited by Rowse (1992:22 – 35) explains that:

Aboriginal maintenance of control over the Blackfella domain occurs in spite of the

formal pervasiveness of the White authority. It is predicated on the exclusion of

Whites from the physical space, styles of behaviour and modes of thought and

communication, rather than on the capacity to wrest economic or political power

from wider society.

Both Trigger (1986:222) and Rowse (1992:22 – 35) comment that the Aboriginal domain has ensured that they have been able to protect and preserve important cultural, social and spiritual aspects of their life.

The tension between the domains can be depicted as two separate spheres of influence fighting each other but largely comfortable within their own space.

159 White or Martu Domain – Mission Domain Tjukurrpa, - Christian Ngurra and Waltja

Mission Settlement eg Jigalong

The Njanji’s eviction from Jigalong provides one reason for Martu moving to Wiluna.

Other Martu moved to Wiluna either of their own accord, attracted by their kin in residence in the area, or by the perceived pleasures of alcohol and the easier life of town compared with desert and station life. Other Martu had no option but to move to Wiluna, after being forced off stations. They and other Indigenous groups such as the Yamatji from the West and the Wongi from the south filled a void left by the decline of the traditional owners of the Wiluna area.

The new life for the Njanji family and other Martu, in Wiluna represents the development of the next stage in the evolution of the Martu domain.

160 Contemporary Martu Domain

The contemporary Martu domain in Wiluna has evolved from the domain that existed when the Njanji family first arrived. The post contact Wiluna Martu domain was shaped by government, missionaries, and enterprises. In the late 1960s and 1970s, each acted to diminish the influence of the Martu domain. They encouraged the development of the contested domain where more and more Martu business associated with surviving in the

White domain had to be carried out, such as the development of the cash economy, of drinking rights, and citizenship rights. Government provided rights had a significant impact both in the absence of the rights prior to the late nineteen sixties, and after that time, in the provision of award wages, drinking rights and citizenship rights. A senior Martu woman said that prior to the provision of citizenship rights most people lived at either the

Mission or Bondini Reserve and required a special permit to enter town after dusk. Heydon

(1996:15) records that in 1972 award wages for Aborigines caused them to be “forced off” the stations into Wiluna where they camped at Bondini Reserve outside of the town boundaries. Other citizenship rights brought the right to vote, the right to drink, the right to freely associate and access to government benefits.

Of the right to drink Sackett (1977:90-99) says that “Aborigines, particularly traditionally orientated ones, have been largely unable to cope with the new element; for it has no traditional referent, and thus no established patters of usage. This means the failure to check excessive drinking (in an attempt to hold on to the Law) is partially product of the

Law itself.” He goes on to comment, “that liquor has not brought about an abandonment of the Law at Wiluna is accounted for by pressures stemming from outside the community.

People, who visit the centre for ritual purposes and drinking, continue to exert pressure on

161 the group to hold onto its traditional ways.” Never the less alcohol has had a significant impact on the Martu.

The negative impacts of these new rights are broadly recognised. Langton (2007) cites

Pearson [Griffith REVIEW 16: Unintended Consequences] who describes “the main contributors to the ‘descent into hell’ of Aboriginal society four decades after the 1967 referendum recognised our citizenship: removal of Aboriginal stock workers to the fringes of towns; increasing dependence of welfare and an unfettered right to alcohol.” Langton

(2007) comments that;

He showed how policy changes to remove economic discrimination, improve access

to social welfare, and ensure that Indigenous Australians had equal rights had

damaging consequences.

Both the Seventh Day Adventist Church (SDA) and the Catholic Church maintained a missionary presence in the town of Wiluna. The SDA missionaries operated in a way that created a great deal of tension between the Martu and White domains. Sackett (1978:39) found that the:

SDA Mission in 1957 brought a policy of controlling internal decision making that

is to make them Christians.” … “School age children were separated from their

parents into dormitories – from the contaminating influences of traditional culture.

He comments in another place that (1990:200) “by the early 1970s, the Aborigines of the

Wiluna region had endured an extended history of discrimination and exploitation. The

162 SDA “seized children for the dormitory and an educational system run by the church.” The conflict between the two systems would have been played out between the domains in the contested domain.

It was in the early 1970’s where there was a growth in the contested domain because of a

Government push for self determination. During early 1970’s, under the Whitlam’s Labor

Government, this policy initiative grew much stronger with the provision of funding for the development of enterprises. According to Sackett (1990:204) the State Aboriginal Affairs

Planning Authority (now known as Department for Indigenous Affairs) (AAPA created in

1972 after the Departments of Native Welfare and Child Welfare were combined to create the Department for Community Welfare) placed pressure on the SDA Church to stop the use of dormitories for all children at the Mission by ceasing the payment of subsidies. In response, the SDA church unsuccessfully approached Government to purchase the Mission.

They then transferred the Village to Aboriginal ownership and their activities were reduced to the conduct of church services in the town.

In 1972 - 1973 there were discussions between the Agriculture Department and the

Aboriginal Affairs Planning Authority (AAPA)/Aboriginal Lands Trust (ALT is the statutory body for holding reserve land for the use and benefit of Indigenous people) about the purchase (Sackett:1990:203) of the Agriculture Department Research Station in Wiluna which was to be closed down. A deal was done and the Research Stations was transferred to the ALT for the use and benefit of Wiluna people. At around the same time a private individual who had developed the Desert Farm in Wiluna experienced financial problems and approached the AAPA to purchase the citrus/melon orchard. This was purchased by the ALT, management plan developed and handed over to the community in September

163 1973. These enterprises had no traditional reference and the Martu possessed no ‘White management skills’. The management and operation of the three businesses was conducted within the contested domain, with the result that Sackett (1990:205) comments that by the mid 1970s the community control of the research station, Desert Farm and the Village was an illusion because AAPA (State Government) hired and fired the employees and the land was held by ALT. Sackett (1990:206) comments that there was “tension and competition between the three entities and their managers and staff that exacerbated traditional rivalries.” This outcome is an example of the growth of the contested domain where the tension was not necessarily only between Martu and Whites. In this instance, it was between Martu about non-Martu business that was not located in the Martu domain.

By the end of the 1980s the Village has been abandoned, the Emu Farm had ceased to operate and the Desert Farm has closed down. All, according to Sackett (1990:206), because “of a hopelessly fragmented Ngangganawilli community” who was the “victim of the operation of machinery allegedly put in place to rescue and serve it.” The only enterprise that resulted from this period, Windidda Station purchased with profits from the

Emu Farm, continues to exist, but is not an operating pastoral station. Sackett (1978:47) concludes that:

even if the differences between the Indigenous decision making systems and the one

the government wanted to impose (with the development of the Village) had been

overcome and an operating council been brought into being it is unlikely that the

body would have been truly effective. The years of paternalism have left the Wiluna

Aborigines ill prepared suddenly to begin making decisions regarding external

affairs.

164

It is interesting to note here, that there has been a quietly effective enterprise of

Sandalwood gathering that continues to be operated by a number of Wiluna Martu families.

There has been little or no government intervention or assistance and it continues to operate in the Martu domain. The importance here is that the enterprise operates within the Martu domain of family, country and the Law and has continued to be successful.

Njanji’s children and grandchildren live within the Martu domain, enclosed by the contested and White domains. It can be characterised in the following diagram.

Martu White Domain eg Domain ie. households The rest of or Bondini W.A.

Contested Domain

In the contemporary context of the Martu in Wiluna, the White domain is everything in life that is not Martu or associated with Martu. The contested domain is where White Martu business is carried out, where positive partnerships are located, where the tensions between

165 the two cultures are played out, and where Martu grapple with the introduced White problems of alcohol and drug abuse, family violence, poverty and criminal activity.

The current situation in Wiluna represents another stage in the evolution of the Martu domain. It is characterised by the growth of the White domain, which now dominates the entire state and country. The Martu domain has succumbed to the pressure of the White domain and has reduced in size, power and influence, the third or contested domain continues to grow.

The growth of the contested domain is a response of a number of Government reforms that have been instituted since the 1992 Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody, the Stolen Children Inquiry, and the Gordon Inquiry into child abuse in Indigenous communities. These reforms have reduced or removed the causes of the many injustices experienced by Indigenous people in Western Australia up to the beginning of the 1990s.

Most Indigenous people now live in towns and cities, where there are a range of authorities that ensure that there is a significantly improved level of access to services that have been called ‘citizenship services’ (a term I use to describe services available to those people who are officially recognised as Australian Citizens such as education, health care, public housing etc). This oversight has addressed many of the overt forms of racism and discrimination that operated in small remote towns like Wiluna and together with the imperative of the advances in communication technology have broken down many of the local empires of White bureaucrats. (That is; spheres of influence created by the lack of supervision because of the isolation that allowed favours to be allocated unfairly) The removal of the race related physical and social boundaries has changed the domains picture.

It is now far more complex.

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In Wiluna, the White domain has become more dominant because of the influence of the presence of the international mining companies in the region. It however has developed a benevolent aspect that is embodied by national/state/international policies that serve to reinforce these reforms, oversee the implementation of government policies, and ensure a higher level of equity of access for the Martu. These reforms have resulted in a number of significant changes.

First area of reform is the development of Indigenous community controlled organisations where the control of the organisation rests with an Indigenous board of management that is accountable to the local population and to the government funding agency. This change brought about through the Commonwealth Government’s policy of self determination commenced in the 1970s. Ngangganawili commenced operating in the early 1990s, and is an example of the Martu community control. Whilst this organisation operates, within the contested domain, it retains close ties with the Martu domain and it provides the Martu with a strong voice outside their domain.

The second is a far more subtle reform. Until recently in a town like Wiluna the local control of all organisations whether it was the Shire Council or local offices of Government agencies or the hospital was in the hands of local non-Indigenous people with little or no control given to the Indigenous people. These organisations were firmly located within the

White domain. If the Indigenous population was served by these organisations, it was done begrudgingly at best and often only when there was a surplus of resources after the

Europeans needs were met. Now all these organisations in Wiluna have had to cede control to Martu through the enfranchisement of Indigenous voters. In the case of the Shire of

167 Wiluna, this has caused the balance of power to move from White pastoralists/business people to the Martu. There is now a majority of Martu councillors, who actively cooperate with Martu people in the provision of services. The council operates in a manner that is sympathetic to the Martu’s perspective in the contested domain.

The final reform is the impact of the Martu voice in Perth and Canberra. Senior Martu or their representatives now have a voice, and are being heard by senior Government officials, politicians and the media. In practice, this has served to ensure that Martu are heard and reasonable requests for assistance are met. Much of this reform is due to the various representative Indigenous bodies. Even after the removal of ATSIC, the ex-commissioner still has much influence in Perth and Canberra. The support the Martu received from the

Governor General for the relocation of the school is also an example of this influence.

The presence and strength of the Martu in the contested domain has changed the role they play in Wiluna. The agencies such as the police and the school are controlled from within the White domain, and even though they have Martu employees, there is no element of

Martu control. However, both agencies realise that they have to cooperate with the Martu and their organisations in order to be able to do their job effectively. They are well aware that the Martu are able to access the formal and informal complaint mechanisms within the

Government or able to complain to the political arm of government and if need be, involve the media.

The education context provides an excellent current example of the Martu voice being heard. After years of working quietly to have the Wiluna school moved from the old site which was adjacent to the hotel and a sewerage pond, Martu people decided to use the

168 occasion of the Governor General’s visit in March 2006 to lobby for the change. After the

Governor General saw the situation with the school, he happily lobbied government and talked to the media. The day after his speech in Wiluna, the Minister for Education made an embarrassing statement intimating that the Governor General was ill informed. Soon after this gaffe, the State Cabinet allocated funding for a new school and the decommissioning of the sewage pond.

The Wiluna Club Hotel, which is privately owned and managed, also operates within the shared domain. Their operations are formally and informally influenced by the Martu. The formal control over the Club Hotel comes from the requirement by the Liquor Licensing

Court for the licensee to negotiate with the Martu on the development of and then the adherence to a liquor accord. The informal influence comes from two avenues. The growing economic power of the Martu is such that they now have vehicles so they that can get alcohol from other towns. The Martu drinkers are a large part of the customer base so the threat to take their business elsewhere is effective. The second avenue is the informal influence that comes from relationships in the town that subtly put pressure on the Hotel to act responsibly.

Ngangganawili is a Martu community controlled organisation, with a strong and effective committee that represents most Martu families in Wiluna. About fifty percent of their staff is non-Martu. Ngangganawili operates within a Martu context and is firmly based within the community, but straddles the two domains because it is the sole health service provider to all people in the Shire and it is required to operate mostly within a European health care model. There is significant tension between the management and the Martu committee on one hand and the government funding agencies on the other. This tension arises from the

169 pressure on Ngangganawili by the practical realities of life in Wiluna and the need to operate in a Martu domain with its own set of accountabilities and the opposite and conflicting pressure of the government Western business model and financial accountability structures. Its non-Martu employees are required to mediate and manage this tension.

Similarly, the Martu staff and committee mediate and manage the tension between the health service and the Martu. It is very much a shared effort and partnership within

Ngangganawili asserting Martu control and resisting what is seen as government meddling.

Their experience is consistent with Stringer’s (1996:147) view that public servants have little understanding of, in this case Martu culture. Rowse (1992:36) explains “Aboriginal organisations” like Ngangganawili “are situated at the intersection of cultural systems and occupying positions within the two incommensurate structures at the same time.” All such

Aboriginal organisations have problems of “cultural mediation and ambiguity”.

If the town of Wiluna is considered a community, it is very much a part of the contested domain as there is no White or black enclave in the town. That is, there are no exclusively

White organisations or institutions. In other towns the White domain is maintained by licensed sporting/bowling/interest clubs that subtly exclude the majority of Aboriginal people or the presence of separate ‘White’ and ‘black’ hotels. It is only at a household or settlement or a business level that the separate Martu domain becomes evident. Small settlements, which are outside the town boundaries, are part of the Martu domain. Each group or family retires to their home or Ngurra and tends not to mix across their group boundaries. Interestingly the Bondini reserve established before the Mission, has outlasted the White institution, and remains very much as a Martu domain. It is outside of the boundaries of the Town of Wiluna, is the site of the Law ground, is the storage area for sacred ceremonial objects, and is also organised along Walta lines.

170

The contested domain in Wiluna is the place of tension, of power struggles between Martu families and between Martu and European, of violence associated with alcohol abuse, of frustration of having to deal with government institutions such as the police, welfare, and education. It is the interaction between the two domains that creates a great deal of problems for the Martu as they do not have the means within their Tjukurrpa or the financial or educational resources to deal with the complexities imposed by the

Government and separate destructive influence of alcohol and drugs.

The contested domain is also a positive space. At an organisational level, Ngangganawili and the Tjukurrpa Art Gallery are two Martu community controlled institutions that operate very successfully within the contested domain simply because there is much more of the greater Martu control over their operation.

The contested domain in Wiluna is characterised by the institutional neglect by government agencies. Hunt and Smith (2007:xviii) comment that, “The Australian Government’s policy goal of ‘whole-of-government’ partnership seems to evaporate or fail by the time it is implemented on the ground. Indeed, Indigenous communities and organisations seem to be confronted by several different ‘whole-of-government’ approaches by different departments and different jurisdictions.” They continue;

Program ‘territorialism’ on the part of government departments and across

jurisdictions remains entrenched in spite of ‘whole-of-government’ goals. This

means Indigenous organisations need high levels of negotiation and leadership

experience to be able to manage the rate of externally imposed changes. They also

171 need considerable management and financial skill to continue to pull together funds

from disparate programs that have changing guidelines and uncertain

implementation procedures, in order to sustain their functions. Only the most

capable and well-connected are able to do this.

This description also holds true for Wiluna where all Indigenous organisation but

Ngangganawili have gone bankrupt or have been defunded.

It is clear that the Martu domain in the Wiluna area relates to the major Indigenous communities and their surrounding areas of Jigalong, and Warburton and the towns of

Leonora and Laverton. That is, they focus towards their Ngurra in the north, north east, east and south east. This is in direct contrast to the focus of the White domain including the sources of services from Government agencies, which come from the coast in Geraldton in the West or Perth in the south West and Kalgoorlie in the south. The economic, physical, social and spiritual orientation of the Martu domain’s clearly conflicts with that of the

White domain as the majority of Western Australians are spatially orientated to and who according to Cowlishaw (2003:103 ) ‘cling to the coast’.

Very few agencies are based in Wiluna with most visiting from Meekatharra, Geraldton, or

Kalgoorlie. The agencies/enterprises represented in the town of Wiluna are the Shire of

Wiluna, the Education Department that operates the pre primary, primary school, the

Western Australian Police Service and the Martu community controlled Ngangganawili

Aboriginal Health and Medical Service. There is also a small privately run supermarket, a takeaway food outlet (which closed in late 2007), a garage, and a post office. The CDEP organisation is managed from Pt Hedland.

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Currently, the Martu domain is characterised by poor health and living standards; poor educational outcomes; low levels of employment and income; high levels of contact with the criminal justice system and with a significant proportion of the population dependent upon all forms of government welfare.

Fien et al (2008:6) identify that “Indigenous poverty” “which is especially severe in remote communities” plays a role in housing problems in towns like Wiluna. They conclude that, it “means that few families and groups have the means to meet their own housing needs at a standard consistent with that expected in mainstream Australia. Fien et al (2008:6) accurately sum up the historical housing situation in Wiluna;

Additionally, a history of misunderstanding and chronic under-funding has led to

inappropriately designed, under-specified and poorly maintained houses that have

a significant negative effect on the health and well-being of residents, including

overcrowding resulting from inadequate numbers and inappropriate styles of

houses.

The Indigenous population profile in Wiluna is similar to that in the West Kimberley. Hunt and Smith (2007:2) comment about the West Kimberley saying, “the Indigenous population is growing and is striking in its youthful demographic profile and relative mobility (Taylor

2006). They suggest the implications of this are that “there are fewer ‘older’ Indigenous people available to take leadership and mentoring roles, and there are growing numbers of unemployed younger people with low educational outcomes.” This is very much the situation in Wiluna.

173

The current Wiluna Martu domain whilst reduced in geographical influence and size is no less important for the Martu. It has enabled them to survive the demands of rapid change and the seemingly traumatic experience of being removed from the desert and placement in unnatural settlements. In a short period, the Martu have made significant transitions in their life. In the same time, the agencies that removed them from the desert and promised to look after them have neglected them and denied them citizenship services. It is

Tonkinson’s (2006:16) observation that the Mardu need to “stimulate a flow of knowledge, strategies and power deriving from their Law to the Whitefella domain,” suggesting that,

“this should enhance their ability to exert control over the circumstances that continually challenge them.” The key for Tonkinson (2006:16) is how the Mardu choose to use ‘their

Law’ and culture in business with the dominant White domain. Martu management and control of change in their and the contested domain is also a key theme.

Conclusion

The strength of concept of Indigenous domains is that there is widespread recognition that there is a space or a domain within Indigenous life that is held apart and is separate from the White world that is exclusively controlled by Indigenous people. It is a space of resistance and Indigenous strength. However, in recognising this concept, caution has to be exercised not to generalise the diversity of experience both within and between Martu families to another Indigenous group’s manifestation of their domain. The differing definitions of the Indigenous domain, it is suspected, result from the unique characteristics of the Indigenous groups on which they are based.

174

The current environment of the Martu in Wiluna is very different to both the pre- colonisation period and the post contact period, and the White domain dominates all of the country. However, it seems that elements within the White domain have developed a degree of compassion and benevolence and has established institutions to oversee equality and fairness in all interactions between Martu and the White domain. These reforms have led to the evolution of a domain between the White and the Martu domains, the contested domain. The Martu domain is influenced by local State, National, and International considerations but is local to the Martu. The White domain by the influence of its technology and economic power is very dominant. The contemporary Martu domain has a reduced geographic influence and size, and is impacted by racism, poverty, and alcohol abuse, but seems to retain an unexpected strength and unity.

The domain framework is important for this research project, as it creates a degree of clarity around the issues of child rearing and child welfare. The insight comes from observing the role of the Martu domain in maintaining the strength of Martu culture and their ways of rearing their children. Martu children emerge from their domain very well equipped for life in their space but with few skills to survive in and few opportunities to learn about the contested and White domain. It is only when the key elements of the Martu domain of Walta and Kanyini fail that children are at risk. Mardu according to Tonkinson

(2006:16) are unwilling to use their skills and knowledge successfully used in their domain to operate successfully in their interactions with the dominant culture.

There is an inherent conflict between the way the Martu spatially, socially and culturally organise their domain, and the way government chooses to provide services. It is my

175 perception that the governmental opinion of Wiluna is that it is too hot, too far away, uncomfortable and the Martu are too hard to work with because they do not speak English as a first language. It therefore seems to be an easy response for Government and its agencies to, either ignore the existence of Wiluna or do much to confuse everyone as to which part of their organisation is responsible for the town.

Tonkinson (2006:15) provides a useful and provoking conclusion for this chapter. He says that Mardu:

core values [associated with the Tjukurrpa and Ngurra] reinforce the virtues of

nomadism, mobility and spontaneity of movement. Temporary absences and time

spent visiting kin [maintenance of Walta] elsewhere may, amongst other things,

function as a kind of pressure valve that eases some of the tensions entailed in

staying put in a remote community. Yet mobility can be disruptive for settlements

[disruptive of the contested domain] when kids are taken from school at a moment’s

notice, or attempts to run training programs are foiled by strongly felt obligations

to attend funerals, or when leaders use their privileged access to resources to evade

their responsibilities by fleeing from community crises [an element of the Martu

Domain that favours cooperation and avoids conflict] instead of attempting to

resolve them.

This conclusion sets the scene for the next chapter on Martu child rearing as it retains the focus on the tension in the contested domain between the requirements of the Martu domain (of Walta, Tjukurrpa and Ngurra) and the demands of the White domain for change.

176

Chapter Five Martu Child Rearing

“Our Walta or family is everything to us”

(2006: Senior Martu Woman and carer)

Introduction

The many conversations with Martu in Wiluna, and especially with the Gundjuno Parntan, provided the context and the answers to the research questions. This research seeks to discover the Martu definitions of terms to do with families and child welfare, their concerns for their children’s welfare, their ways of addressing their concerns about their children’s welfare, and whether there is a Martu model of child welfare.

This chapter documents the stories told to the researcher located within the critical space of the White domain using the framework of Martu domain. As previously indicated, the

Martu have used their domain to maintain and preserve Law, culture, and Walta. Martu child rearing is located within their domain. Martu Tjitji enters the contested domain when they attend school, seek medical care, or when they are removed from its Walta. This is the place of tension between the Martu and White domains, where Martu children have to adjust to the ways of the White world.

The stories told by the Martu and observation of life around Wiluna show that the Martu actively care for their children in their own distinct way within their domain and within

177 their resources endeavour to ensure the wellbeing of their children. The literature on other

Indigenous peoples’ child rearing is consistent with the Martu stories about the way they bring up their children.

This chapter examines the child rearing in the Martu domain with reference to the literature about the pre-contact period of Martu life and to the way, the Martu use the child rearing principles in their life. It then goes on to document how Martu child rearing operates in the contested domain. Finally, it describes the impact of the white domain on Martu child rearing. The analysis of the implications of the way Martu bring up their kids, their child wellbeing strategies, and their child safety approach for the child welfare system follows in the next chapter.

Child Rearing in the Martu Domain

This section develops a picture of the way Martu children are reared in the Martu domain.

In this process, I briefly restate information about the Martu domain and the child rearing principles developed in the Warriki Report. Then I draw on the stories told by the Martu to build a picture of their way of rearing their children.

As previously stated, the term Wiluna Martu domain or just Martu domain is used to encompass the unique cultural and historical characteristics of the Martu in Wiluna. The support for this description of ‘unique’ comes from the insistence by the Martu that they are different to White Australians and more importantly for them, to other Indigenous groups.

178

The Martu domain is that part of Martu life in Wiluna that is held apart from, and is separate to, the White world and most of its influences. The Martu domain contains the

Tjukurrpa or the Law, it is focussed on maintenance of relationships within their Walta or extended family, it is located wherever the Martu are (usually in or near their Ngurra or their country), and where outsiders (Whites) are largely excluded. It is a spiritual space where the Martu are in control and is located where Martu are at a particular time. As such, it has geographical characteristics as in Ngurra and is a social and emotional space of

Martu-ness.

The contested domain is where White and Indigenous business is conducted. It is contested because of the growing power and influence of Indigenous groups who challenge the authority of Whites to dictate Indigenous behaviours. The contested domain is the local space where the two domains with their different worldviews meet to do business and it is where White - Indigenous tensions are resolved. This domain includes those aspects of

Martu life that are not part of Tjukurrpa such as alcohol and drugs, gambling, Western education, health care, and interaction with the justice system. Both domains and their beliefs are part of this space and are often in conflict, although there are increasing opportunities for meaningful partnerships. It is also a space of Martu – Martu conflict and of violence unrestrained by their domain and fueled by alcohol and drugs.

The White domain is everything that is dominated by Western worldview, values, laws, and practices, where the language of choice is English and the dominant religion is Christian.

The White domain is physically, emotionally, and spiritually located away from the remote areas of Australia and looks outwards to the world from around the Australian coast and

179 hinterland. It is the economically, socially, and culturally powerful force of the colonisers that is based in cities around the southern coast of Australia.

The four child rearing principles outlined in the Warriki Report of Tjukurrpa or worldview and belief system; Walta or extended family and web of relatedness; Kanyini or system of care; and Ngurra or the place to which the child has traditional and spiritual ties; their associated values, beliefs and practices guide how Tjitji are brought up in the Martu domain in Wiluna.

As was described in the chapter, Martu Domain, the traditional life of the Martu (prior to contact with the colonisers) involved a great deal of certainty, even though they lived in the harsh environment of the desert. The certainty was derived from thousands of years of life in this context with no outside influences. The Martu domain was dominant and only challenged by the incursions by neighbouring groups. Only the strongest and most independent Tjitji would have survived this harsh environment and as a result, children were cherished and protected to ensure continuity of survival of the family and the dialect group.

The Martu stories reveal that there are a number of key characteristics of their way of rearing children in Wiluna. These will be explored in turn starting with the way the child rearing principles are viewed in Wiluna.

180 Tjukurrpa

All the Martu who contributed to this research said that Tjukurrpa or the Law is the source for all parts of Martu life, that it continues to be important for their life in Wiluna and it is the source of the child care principles. In the Warrki Report (Priest:2007:67) Tjukurrpa is described as being;

omnipotent and omnipresent and is based on the knowledge and activity that was

established with the ancestors and ancestral beings. Through art, songs, stories,

ceremonies, and everyday practice Tjukurrpa is passed from generation to

generation. It explains and links land, animals, plants, and people. It is implicit in

all codes of behaviour, social organisation, control, and relationships between

people, places and animals.

Martu lives are lived in accordance with their Tjukurrpa. According to Sackett (1977:90-

99) Martu say, “that during the Dreaming, great Supernatural Beings gave shape to the previously featureless landscape, and animated earth, water and sky. Importantly, the

Beings also established and laid down a way of life for the people to follow for all time.”

Sackett (1977:90-99) says that the Martu believe that the Law must be followed or abandoned – no middle ground is envisaged.” An important aspect of the Martu life is unchanging nature of Tjukurrpa and the inability of humans to alter it.

181 Walta

No matter the history of the Martu I talked to, their religion, whether they were a drinker or not, male or female, young or old they all said that “family or Walta was everything to them”, and “the most important thing in their life”. Other comments made about Walta that show its importance are that it is, “the body that cares for children in the Martu society,

“the central part of life”, “everything”, “the most important part of life”, “of critical importance”, “the blood extended family which includes the family unit, the children’s children, foster children, and the partner’s husband’s family”, “the central part of life”, and

“where there is love, support and security”.

Martu made it very clear that Walta is more important than material possessions. Many people pointed this out as they saw the value placed by non-Indigenous people on accumulation of possessions as being a major failing of Western culture and a significant difference between the two cultures. A number of Martu said that they used money and possessions for the support and maintenance of family and relationships rather than saving or accumulating them.

Martu said that family is maintained through constant communication, maintaining close links, constantly thinking about family, and providing support and security. Walta provides emotional and physical support, life education, cultural training, safety, and maintenance of the Ngurra and the Law.

182 It seems evident that all children and especially babies have a very special place in the

Martu Walta. The new child is welcomed into the family and the broader family constellation with a great deal of joy and warmth. As the child grows, they are given a great deal of freedom where they are greatly indulged by members of their family and they are rarely denied anything. Children are encouraged to behave in specific ways.

Unselfishness and compassion are seen as highly desirable behaviours. Parents and family members model this behaviour by not denying children what they want.

The years prior to going to preschool and kindergarten are very special. The Tjitji live exclusively within their Walta in the Martu domain. Children are said by the Martu, to learn quickly that family will provide and who is family. In the ideal world, they are not punished physically and guided by stories, humour, advice, and indulgence. It is only when a child does not have strong family members or not many family members, that this process breaks down and they are more likely to be subject to neglect and maltreatment. Large close Walta seem to be a key ingredient in the successful rearing of Martu children.

Ngurra

Ngurra was described by one woman as being Wiluna, which is her community, where her family lives and where there are historical ties to land. According to the Warrki report

(Priest:2007:68) Ngurra:

183 literally means camp, home, place where people are staying or could stay, place,

site, area or tract of country. The concept implies a sense of place, the place to

which one belongs and the relationships between people and place.

Most people said that their Ngurra was an important part of their life even though they were not living in their country. Wiluna was the closest town to it. None of the senior women had been born in Wiluna. Some were born in the desert or on a station, in a traditional manner and they or their parents are the first generation to have contact with non-Aboriginal people. Martu families are spread around the desert communities as far north as Balgo and La Grange and east to Warburton.

Kanyini

The use of Kanyini or holding in Wiluna by the Martu was revealed through the stories various Martu told about their lives, about their family, about their responsibilities under

Tjukurrpa, their links to their Ngurra, and the way they acted towards their Walta.

Interestingly Kanyini was not a term easily identified by Martu and despite trying to talk to a number of people using different pronunciations and descriptions no one seemed to identify this word. On reflection, my poor linguistic skills made understanding this principle difficult for the Martu. After asking all the wrong questions about Kanyini and

Kanyirninpa, or holding in the previous visits, I finally asked the right question. I was sitting outside the HACC centre with some of the senior women and HACC workers and a number of other people. I asked the question ‘what do you call it when a person holds a

184 child?’ The answer was Ngalola meaning that act of holding a child. I then asked ‘what word do you use when the older members of a family look after and care for the younger members?’ The answer was Kanyila meaning the “nurturance with authority” (McCoy). I talked about this concept to make sure I had ‘got it right’ and from the discussions it seemed to be correct. Even though I had observed ‘holding’ amongst families, people had described it to me in their stories about their family, and they had described it when talking about the responsibilities of families, I had not been able to have it named as a Martu concept.

The naming of the concept and then developing an understanding was greatly facilitated by a younger woman who was a daughter of one of the Gundjuno Parntan. She was able to translate what I said, prompt discussion with the others in Martu, ask pertinent questions and that then enabled the concept to be identified.

These principles, of Tjukurrpa, Walta, and Ngurra and the term ‘holding’ are intertwined and cannot be separated into neat lists or descriptions around Martu child rearing. As the

Warrki Report (2002:13) says, Walta, holding and Ngurra are “rules for bringing up little kids” that come from Tjukurrpa, because the Law lays down all the requirements for a successful Martu life.

Kanyini is important because it ensures that Indigenous children from the desert grow up in a safe and secure environment where there are many people caring for them (more than just the birth parents) and provides guidance throughout life that ensures that they come to no harm as they explore their world. It is essentially an Indigenous system of child wellbeing for the desert. Rather than being imposed by the State, it is based on each child’s Walta

185 and is underwritten by the requirements of the Tjukurrpa. Kanyini has successfully operated for thousands of years.

McCoy (2004) says that Kanyirninpa (for the Kukatja), or Kanyila for Martu or more generally in the desert Kanyini or holding “exists as a deeply embedded value amongst desert Aboriginal peoples and it is disclosed as authority with nurturance, where older generations assume the responsibility to care for and look after younger people.” In this explanation, he shows the essence of the role of ‘holding’ in providing a system of child wellbeing. McCoy (2004: 30 - 33) goes on to say that, “Kanyirninpa applies not just to men at the time of Law but to everyone. It includes people of all ages and both genders.

McCoy teases out the complexity of holding. He says it includes “nurturance” and it

“involves older people taking responsibility and offering protection for those they hold.” It is also “expressed in relationships that involve teaching and learning where older people help young people ‘grow up the right way’.” He identifies (2004:31) that;

providing food was, and continues to be, a key element of the holding relationship.

… It confirms, in daily and practical ways, that younger people are being held and

older people care for them; it also confirms the gift of food as a powerful symbol of

that relationship.

There were other key elements of Martu child rearing revealed by the stories told in response to the research questions. These are related to each of the child rearing principles and each draws on these principles.

186 Key Elements of Child Rearing in the Martu Domain

The following elements of Martu child rearing cover a range of topics, the definition of a child, child rearing values, child rearing practices and Martu practices that are important to children. All are related to the child rearing principles.

Martu Child

For the Martu the definition of a child is revealed through their stories of growing up. The families described the process for becoming a man for their sons and siblings and their stories talked of pride, of ‘good and bad Laws’, and of the risks and benefits of this process.

According to the stories, young male Martu, cease being a child in their family’s eyes when they ‘go through the Law’ or are initiated. This occurs when they are seen to be physically and emotionally ready by their Walta, which seemed to be usually between twelve and fourteen years of age. Initiation can occur earlier or later depending on the individual and their family. Similarly, it seems that Martu girls become women when they have a child.

For some this is as early at fourteen or fifteen. Generally, girls cease being seen as a child and are considered to be an adult between fourteen and sixteen years of age even without having a child. The Martu, like other desert groups do not have a separate age grouping between childhood and adulthood. The transition is from boy/girl to man/woman.

In the past, a girl would be considered a woman when she moved permanently to her promised husband’s camp. The move would be dependent on her family’s view as to her readiness to become a wife. (Tonkinson:1991:60) The move to an older man’s camp no longer occurs, as there are now no promised marriages in Wiluna. It was interesting that when asked about promised marriages, most Martu responded quickly and strongly that it

187 has not been practiced for some time. They asserted that young Martu men and women now ‘marry for love’ and tend to have a series of relationships before settling down.

Other Indigenous definitions of a child can be found in Hamilton’s (1981a:16) analyses of the developmental stages of an Anbarra child from Arhnemland. She comments that

(1981:16) “childhood is held to end before puberty for the Anbarra. The 11 to 16 year old, while not yet an adult is certainly not a child either, and this is clearly recognized.” In summary she says, “By comparison the Anbarra infancy is prolonged and adulthood comes early.” (1981:17)

McCoy (2004:132) notes that in the Kukatja that there is no equivalent word to the English

‘adolescence’. He goes on to say that, “While desert societies referred to the various stages of religious knowledge a man might acquire in his life, once a man was initiated he was a wati. He was no longer a boy or to be treated as such.”

The Warrki Report (2002:16) makes the point that when “Yapa and Anangu look at babies and young children they see small adults.” Martu hold the same view, which suggests a different way of perceiving childhood. Rather than being perceived as “helpless” as in

European culture Tjitji are considered to have a “set place in the family and community along with responsibilities in Law and culture.”

In the Australian Indigenous world, the specific timing of the transition to adulthood varies between dialect groups, but begins with initiation for the males and after menstruation for the females. Indigenous people consider the achievement of the adult status as being associated, (Peile 1997:21) “not with physical age, but with changes in physique of the

188 boys and girls. Age is assessed relative to the other members of the society, or in ceremonial or marital status.”

Martujarra

Martujarra, which simply means Martu language, encompasses all the languages and dialects spoken by the Martu. The Warrki Report (2002:13) stresses the importance of language in saying that language and culture are “inextricably linked” and that it is important for children to learn the “complexities of their first language and culture before introducing a second”. Additionally, Tonkinson (1991:66) emphasises the importance of language because their dialect links them to their country or Ngurra. The language is then a manifestation of the Tjukurrpa for that Ngurra and it is an essential part of Tjitji growing up as Martu.

A number of Martu dialects are spoken in Wiluna and Mandjildjara is the predominant.

Most if not all Martu said that they spoke ‘language’ at home and tried to make sure that their children or grandchildren were able to speak and understand their own language. If the parents spoke different dialects, the child was expected to speak both.

Verbal expression is not the only form of communication that is used by the Martu. They also rely heavily on sign language. The Martu children learn this way of communicating through modelling behaviour at a very young age. Warrki Report (2002:81) stresses the importance of hand, body, or sign language. They say that, “the significance of sign language in an Aboriginal context should not be underplayed as signs can be as powerful, or even more powerful than words.” It was clear from observation and the stories that the

Martu teach young children this form of communicating and use it with them. Its use is

189 evident in every conversation from pointing with the lips, to answering questions with hand signals, to providing non verbal warnings, to inviting people into conversations.

Autonomy

It seems that no one in Martu society (with the exception of a few very respected older people), can tell another person what to do or impose on their personal autonomy. I heard children say to adults or other children and to assert this autonomy in saying ‘I’m my own boss’ or ‘you can’t tell me what to do!’. Martu advise, suggest, and guide but do not tell people what to do directly. For example, at a ‘Kids and Oldies’ picnic I made the mistake of stopping a young boy at a picnic from slowly pulling a living fresh water crayfish apart and was sternly admonished by his mother and grandmother, who in summary, said I should have let him do what he wanted. The concern was for his autonomy or freedom to do what he wanted, rather than my White concern for the crayfish.

This sense of autonomy extends to the family where one family cannot impose on another, or be seen to criticise another. A perceived or actual threat to a family’s autonomy will be responded to by the whole family in support of the wronged person.

I thought to characterise the freedom of Martu children to be like an inverted V where they have maximum freedom that reduces with age. Personal responsibility operates in a manner that is opposite to that of freedom where there is no responsibility whilst young but grows with age.

190 Responsibility Maturity Responsibility

Birth Freedom Freedom

Relatedness

Wiluna Martu recognise and use family (or blood) relationships as well as a four section kinship system to express their relatedness. In the past, the system was used to show who could marry and in the structuring of initiation ceremonies amongst other things. There was some discussion about the present importance of the kinship system. My experience from other desert settlements was that people rarely used their names and instead referred to each other by their classificatory name. The purpose of this seems to be two fold. It allows anyone within hearing to know who is around and their relationship to them and it avoids having to use a dead person’s name or encounter a person they have to avoid.

Interestingly the Martu seem to refer to each other by their relationship rather than the classificatory name. It was suggested that they have fewer classificatory names (four) rather than eight or sixteen and use relationship names to avoid confusion. The group of senior women said the classificatory system is still strong in Wiluna and is used all the time but there are some aspects of the system such as the maintenance of avoidance relationships

191 and marrying ‘straight’ or in accordance with the kinship system are not followed any more.

Conception and Birth

The stories told by Martu around conception placed and equal emphasis on the role of the physical sex act and that of the spirits in conception. According to the Martu it is recognised that a woman is pregnant when she either dreams the child or at the when she experiences morning sickness. The role of the spirits in conception was described in two stories told to me in a conversation with a group of women.

When they were out bush the girls with them saw a goanna track and followed it to the hole, and an echidna track followed the goanna track into the hole. They dug them both out. The group said that it was a sign that a girl was pregnant. They said they lined the girls up and asked which one was pregnant. All the young women felt ‘shame’, said nothing. Apparently, one girl from the group was pregnant, and the animal spirit was said to have entered the girl, caused the pregnancy and as a result, the child has two animal totems.

The other story related to a different bush trip where they came across a number of meteors.

This was taken to be a sign that a woman was pregnant and the meteor spirit had entered her. The child was subsequently born with two black moles which have been seen as the confirmation of the role of the meteor spirit and the child has a meteor totem.

The senior woman, who was a traditional midwife, said that in the traditional or bush setting a woman gave birth in the presence of her mother and the midwife. The mother

192 knows when she is ready to give birth and she would then leave the camp with the midwife, her mother and other women. The midwife stays with the mother and assists the baby to come. She does not ‘sing the baby out’ or ‘sing’ during the birth and does not rub the stomach. The mother comforts the girl. When the baby is delivered the cord is left long.

The husband is excluded and the birth takes place away from where they are living. The mother and child are kept secluded for a couple of weeks after the birth and then they are taken around and introduced to the family. The after birth is buried near a tree, which becomes an important place for the child. The midwife maintains a very special relationship with the children she has assisted at their birth.

Death and Funerals

Many of the older Martu commented that there is no such thing as an accidental death and it is always believed that someone has caused the death. The causal link can be as distant as the perception that a daughter has failed to look after an aged parent. Another causal link is the role of spirits in causing a death from a distance. In the past appropriate people would meet after a death to hold an ‘inquest’ to ascertain who killed the person.

The senior women said that in the pre-contact times people were buried relatively quickly in a shallow grave covered in rocks and then after the family had determined why they had died or who had killed them, and mourned, the bones would be exhumed and reburied.

This was usually after one or two years. If there was a widow/er they could only remarry after the reburial.

The operation of the Martu domain ensures that Tjitji are brought up in a web of relatedness cared for by a wide range of people who ensure that it is held and nurtured in the system of

193 Kanyini. The child is able to learn at its own pace about its Ngurra, the Tjukurrpa and their relatedness and responsibility to other Martu and to Ngurra in a way that provides a great deal of freedom and autonomy. Instruction is indirect and is based on observation and learning by mistakes. At around five years of age a Martu child can usually speak atleast two Martu dialects and Martu English or Creole, actively uses sign language, knows who they are related to, knows their Ngurra, is beginning to understand some of their Tjukurrpa, is autonomous and self directed and can operate safely in a bush with an understanding of bush foods and survival in the desert. It is around this time that the child will begin to encounter the White domain and to experience the pressures of the contested domain.

However, if the Tjitji has not been held by their Walta, because of the effects of alcohol and drugs on their Walta or because their simply are not enough Walta to hold them, the child experiences the White domain much earlier.

Martu Child Rearing in the Contested Domain

The arrival of Europeans within the Martu Ngurra brought uncertainty and a challenge to the Martu control of their domain. Tonkinson (2006:1) says that the Mardu held the

Europeans outside their domain and continued to care for their children within their Walta in their space. In a short time, the Martu hold on their geographical, spiritual, and familial domain was negatively impacted by violence, disease, dispossession, alcohol, religion, and assimilation. However, Martu still maintained their domain.

194 Most Tjitji are still successfully brought up within the Martu domain. When the Walta is intact and functioning well, their Tjitji are equipped with the skills, knowledge, and wisdom to live successfully within their domain. They are then more confident and better equipped to deal with the demands of education and life in the contested domain.

It is in the contested domain where the two domains do battle over the way Martu children are raised. In Wiluna Martu Tjitji are mostly protected from the impact of the White domain until they attend school, unless members their Walta have alcohol and drug abuse problems that cause family violence, neglect of children, and exacerbate the impacts of social and economic poverty. This abuse and neglect occurs brings White agencies such as the police, DCP, and Health in contact with the Martu domain. These agencies are charged with the responsibility of providing services to the Martu, that should address the harm caused by the colonisation process. These agencies deliver services in an environment of institutional neglect, that are not designed for the Martu, that are ignorant of the Martu domain and it’s Tjukurrpa, and are delivered by people who have limited knowledge of

Indigenous people and let alone the Martu. As a result, the Martu have responded by continuing to rely on the resources within their domain to deal with the problems that occur within the contested domain. They only turn to these agencies as a last resort and their stories said they are often disappointed by the agencies response, which reinforces their reliance on their own resources. The following sections document the way Martu in

Wiluna have drawn on their domain to deal with problems introduced by the White domain.

195 Diversity of Experience within the Contested Domain

The Martu stories about their Walta’s life after contact with Europeans show a surprising diversity of experience. This makes it difficult to make generalisations for the Martu population because of intergroup and inter-family difference in post contact experience.

Each family group or Walta may be closely related through marriage or by links to the same Ngurra but their experiences of the post contact world are different. This difference can be linked back to the point of contact with non-Martu in the beginning of the colonisation of the area and their path out of the desert. The difference of experience also has an impact on the way the Walta lives in Wiluna, their beliefs, and on the way they bring up their children.

Some family groups made the choice to remain in the desert, such as the Njanji family, even though they knew of the existence of Europeans and the potential material benefits.

Their choice was to continue to live the life as laid down by Tjukurrpa and remain in their country. There were people who may have had to remain in the desert for other reasons such as the two people whose lives are documented in ‘The Last of the Nomads’

(Peasley:1983) who married outside the kinship system and chose to live in the desert to avoid punishment. However these Martu were forced from the desert by missionaries and by government welfare authorities as documented in Cleared Out (Davenport et al:2005).

Other Martu families decided to move from the desert to towns such as Wiluna, to pastoral stations, and to Missions situated around the edge of the desert. Sackett (1978) says that it was the intention of many people to leave the desert for a short period. However, they were attracted by the presence of family and easier access to food. The difference for these

196 families was that they say they made the choice to come into a station, mission, or a settlement.

The stories told about life on pastoral stations seemed to indicate that they provided a compromise between freedom in the desert and constraint in the Missions. Station life was freer than on the missions, as families stayed together and they remained close to their

Ngurra. The Martu stories suggested that the time spent on the stations was generally a happy time. Whilst Martu were subject to the authority of the station owners/managers, they commented that they had more choice about who they worked for and for how long, and they had long ‘holiday’ breaks that coincided with the Law times.

Martu were forced to move into Wiluna away from stations when award wages were introduced in the late 1960s. They explained the pastoralist’s actions in two ways. Either they were forced into Wiluna by station owners who were protesting against the laws requiring award wages to be paid, or they had to leave because the station owners could not afford to pay award wages and keep the families of workers. In moving to Wiluna Martu were subject to all the pressures of poverty, living in close proximity (unnaturally for the

Martu) to larger groups of people, being further away from country, either no or poor accommodation, and alcohol abuse.

Whilst there is a difference of experience between families, there also is a difference of experience within families. For example, in talking to various members from one family it became clear that each had a different experience in growing up in the rapidly changing contested domain. The eldest child was born in a traditional manner and was given a great deal of freedom in growing up in the desert. At an appropriate age, she was betrothed to an

197 older man in a promised marriage. The Walta moved to work on a station. Station life had a considerable degree of freedom as previously described. The younger siblings grew up on the station, but the parents were encouraged by the station owner/manager to send their children to the Seventh Day Adventist Mission ‘for their own good’ and to receive an education. One of these children was fostered to a White family even though her parents were alive and lived on a station. After a few years, this arrangement broke down and rather than allowing her to return to Walta, she was sent to the Karalundi Mission for

‘education reasons’. She was only reunited with her family when she returned to Wiluna in her teenage years. When the family was forced off the station at the time of award wages, they moved into Wiluna where they lived at Bondini Reserve. The last child was born on the reserve, in an environment of poverty and alcohol fuelled violence, but within Walta as other close relatives were also living at the reserve. Therefore, in one family, the oldest child was raised in a traditional context and was promised to an older man. The next child was raised on a station then in the Mission and fostered in a White family with the accompanying loss of culture and language. The youngest child was raised on Bondini reserve within Walta but in an environment of poverty and alcohol abuse. These different experiences are a result of the rapidly changing Indigenous Affairs policies practices.

The important elements that come from each of the family stories are the difference of experience both within families and between families, the impact of ongoing colonisation, the powerlessness of Martu when government agencies intervened and the speed and randomness of change from the first contact until the present.

The difference in experience within and between Martu families provides a clear example of the impact of the pressures of the White domain on the Martu that were played out in the

198 contested domain. The contested domain continues to be a space of conflict for the Martu especially over the care of their Tjitji.

Tjukurrpa

In my discussions with Martu, it became clear that the Tjukurrpa or the Law still plays a major role in all parts of the life of the Martu in Wiluna. This was evidenced by the importance placed by Martu on the conduct of the Law ceremonies in both actions and stories. The centrality of Tjukurrpa was also evident in their focus on the importance of family and their longing for Ngurra. Even the Martu who are practicing Seventh Day

Adventists (SDA) say they incorporate elements of Tjukurrpa in their life. Adherence to

Tjukurrpa is very much part of being Martu. Those parts rejected by SDA followers tend to deal with initiation, creation and other areas of conflict with Christian doctrine. Those areas that are accepted by Martu Christians seem to be around Walta, Ngurra and fluency in their Martu language.

Walta

In Wiluna Walta continues to be a broad inclusive group of people that involves a wide range of people including in the modern context, foster children, people who have lived and worked with significant members of the family, those who have just been taken in, and older children’s boy/girlfriends at the time. For example, one of the main ‘foster carers’ in the town said a White ‘street kid’ in Geraldton adopted her. When she moved back to

Wiluna, he came with her. He grew up in the town and married a Martu woman. The

199 foster mother sees him as part of her Walta. Walta then, is an inclusive institution that is strongly based on the Martu values of compassion and relatedness.

Martu Tjitji are taken from a very young age to visit relatives both in Wiluna and other settlements like Warburton and Jigalong where they stay and learn about their relatives, their country, and get to know those who are part of Walta. They continue to return to these settlements to stay with family and receive visits from family in Wiluna. When the family goes visiting, the relatives being visited care for children to give the parents a break.

The adults in the extended family take responsibility for their young relatives.

The roles of various people within the family were largely revealed through observation and conversations with the senior women. The role of the birth mother is to care for and nurture the child with the support of her partner and her family. Her role decreases as the child grows up and the influence transfers to other relatives and the child’s friends and relatives of a similar age. The sisters and the mother of the birth mother are also major carers of the child.

Martu men play a major role in bringing up their children and younger relatives, even though they do not play a major role in the birth and the first few weeks of the child’s life.

Fathers and uncles were observed to provide care for children through feeding, playing, bathing, holding and encouraging children. Contrary to popular thought, Martu men and boys were actively involved in the care of children. I was surprised at the number of young men who at the Family Centre changed the nappies of their young relatives.

200 The grandmothers are a key part of the child care system for the Martu. They are the major source of care for children especially when the mothers are young or have alcohol abuse problems. The fact that mothers were relatively young meant that grandmothers were also relatively young so they could take on full time child care roles for their daughters.

Grandmothers would rarely refuse this role although a number commented that they always gave the child back to the mother when it was safe to ensure that the mother remembered that she had a child to care for. The grandmothers also said that they teach the mothers how to care for children, including feeding, shopping, child care, and all the grandmothers stressed the importance of education.

Grandmothers also play an instructional role with their grandchildren. They use language, song, stories, and humour to teach culture. Some grandmothers especially the senior women bemoaned the lack of interest by their grandchildren in learning about Martu culture.

A number of people said that they learnt parenting from their parents, aunts, grandparents and other close relatives. No one referred to learning about parenting from life in the

Mission.

An aspect of life within Walta that was revealed during the field work was the Martu practice of the family sleeping together. This became an issue during a visit by a worker from the Sudden Infant Deaths Syndrome council, which is described in a later chapter.

The White domain call families sleeping together co-sleeping and it is where children sleep in their parent’s bed or with the parents. A senior Martu woman described the Martu practice of co-sleeping as a strategy that is designed to monitor the child either keeping

201 them warm or cool or protecting them from threats such as dogs and drunks. A young child is placed in between the parents who would lie towards the child on their sides. As the child grew, it is allowed to move from between the parents to along side a parent where it was still protected. At an older age, the child moves further from the parents joining siblings or peers in the same room as the parents. The strategy seemed to operate based on the rule, the younger the child the more care and protection it needed, the closer to the parents it slept. The basis of the whole system is that the whole family sleeps together in the same room. This is an extension of the camping arrangements in the desert, where the group would sleep in the same area. It is also a response to the overcrowding in most

Martu houses, where family groups have to sleep in one room because there is no other space.

Ngurra

The senior women said that they take every opportunity to take children bush to their

Ngurra where they can learn about bush foods, survival and stories associated with food and country. People evoked the different levels of Ngurra. The first is Ngurra, as a of place of residence or camp, which is in Wiluna which it is where family lives, a place where people were dreamed (conceived) and returned soon after birth, a place where people camp as they are travelling, and the place of their Tjukurrpa (known as Tjukurrpa Ngurra).

Wiluna is the town closest to the Ngurra of many older people where they were born, where their traditional ties are and where the family’s ancestors lived. Both Wiluna and country are places that are known and where there are close ties to land. In Wiluna, it is a historical link and in the desert it is a traditional link. Apparently, people tried to establish

202 outstations in the desert at their Tjukurrpa Ngurra some 500 kms north east of Wiluna.

However, they said it failed because it was hard to maintain the settlement because of the distance, absence of schools and a regular health services. In particular, resupply and support was difficult because of poorly maintained vehicles.

The senior women said that Wiluna is where people want to live but they ‘dream of the desert’. In Wiluna the Martu are not living within their Ngurra in the desert and as such, they are refugees forced by dispossession and circumstance to live away from their Ngurra.

They do not have the means or the support to return to their Ngurra, unlike other Martu from Jigalong who have established their own Walta based settlements in the desert.

Kanyini

Kanyini or holding has been explained and enlarged upon in a number of places. Martu show that they recognise the responsibility of the Walta to hold their children in their statements that ‘family is everything’, ‘it is central to life’ and ‘it is more important than material possessions’. Their concern is about the inability or the reduced capacity of some

Walta to hold their Tjitji. This situation is caused by the actual reduction in the number of people to hold the children caused by illness and death or by the debilitating effects of alcohol and drug abuse. In pre-contact times, Martu had relatively small numbers of children in each family group, which meant that there was a larger group of adults to care for the children. At present, there is smaller number of adults to hold a large number of children, consequently there are a number of Tjitji who are not held adequately. The senior women have said that they and other older grandmothers are simply too old and can no

203 longer care for the children and that many of the next generation are not interested or unable to provide the care.

The importance of McCoy’s work is that he documents the impact on young Kukatja men when the system of holding either does not work properly or is absent. He talks of the trauma being experienced by the young men and the contemporary ways they seek to be held in order to deal with that trauma.

It should be noted that with the break down of parts of Martu Walta that there are difficulties in being able to provide the holding that is required. McCoy (2004) talks about the impact of the loss of holding in that the desire for autonomy expressed in the statement

‘you cannot tell me what to do’ by a young man. McCoy (2004:236) said Indigenous parents interpreted this as a cry to be held. The loss of Walta leads to a loss of nurturance and of life within the authority of an older person.

Walta Care

The system of Martu Walta care of children operating in Wiluna is an example of Kanyini where Walta provides parental type care for children in a range of situations from short periods of one or two days to the giving of children to members of the Walta without children.

The short term Walta care was observed and was often talked about was where a sister, cousin, grandmother, or aunt cares for a child for a short period. It was observed in the example where the mother had just returned from Kalgoorlie after giving birth two weeks before. She was sent to Kalgoorlie to have the baby two weeks before the birth and at that

204 time there is no provision for family support. She utilised Walta care to provide an opportunity to have a drink and relax.

An older aunt cared for the baby. Whilst the mother provided some clothes, nappies, and formula in a bag it was insufficient and the Aunt asked the Family Centre for nappies and formula. The following morning, the mother, who was obviously still drunk, was observed to approach the aunt gently take the baby, give it a cuddle and a kiss, then returned it to the older woman. There seemed to be no coercion and everyone seemed to be very relaxed.

In the medium term, children are given to family members to care for often at times of stress or need but also give allow the child to live with other Walta. The benefit of this approach is best seen by this example. I had noticed a woman around the Health Service and the Kids Centre with an arm and leg in plaster. I was told by a staff member that her husband had assaulted her because she was not looking after her children. Over a two week visit to Wiluna, I had a number of conversations with this Martu woman and discovered that she had two young children. She described to me the ways in which she and her extended family looked after her children and other children in the family group. She was able to identify what was important for the children in terms of food, safety, health, and culture. The information she gave was clear understandable and comprehensive. Once I had talked to her a number of times and had established a relationship, she talked about her reasons for neglecting her children. She blamed alcohol abuse or the Wooma. In this conversation, she was then able to talk about the reasons why her husband had assaulted her and said that his actions were condoned by the Law or Tjukurrpa, as it was his role to make sure that she looked after the children. She said that her sisters had moved her and her children into one of their houses so that they could support her, and care for her children.

205 This is an example where the mother was under stress and her Walta, sisters, or Djorno intervened to provide some assistance.

Longer or permanent care of children by Walta is also common practice. I was frequently told that Martu see the practice of giving a child to another family member who may not have children to be an important and compassionate act. People said that the process of giving away children to family members was a good system and that the children are raised as part of the new family. They said that the children do not suffer from this practice and did not feel that their parents did not want them. Traditionally this was done with the first- born child. The child is only given to parents who are known to be good carers.

In talking about family many people recounted how they had been cared for by other family members or they themselves had cared for family members. All referred to this action as

‘foster care’ but they were always related through family and it is really Walta care. One mother said that she brought up both her children and her foster children the same, saying that food, sleep, cleanliness, and education were most important. She said that family provided that ‘warm supportive feeling’ which could be taken to be love. She saw that her foster children were part of her family and were encouraged to come and visit her.

Martu concern about the failure by Walta to hold their Tjitji seemed to be about neglect rather than physical or sexual abuse. Whilst there were hints that sexual abuse did occur, the majority of stories supported by the experience of the Health Service, were about the neglect of children. The Martu did not talk about neglect in their stories, rather they described hungry children, children who had nowhere to sleep because their parents or care

206 givers were drunk and children who had no Walta to talk up for them. For Martu, child maltreatment is a failure to Kanyini or hold their Tjitji.

Extended Walta Care

It is clear from this research that the Martu in Wiluna have made changes to accommodate the situation where there is inadequate or absence of Walta to provide the ‘holding’ to the

Tjitji. There are the ‘safety net’ families in Wiluna and the other settlements that provide extended Walta care to their own Walta and to others who need help. These Martu have responded to the Kanyini system breaking down, and have realised that some of the other

Walta are unable to care for their Tjitji. They extend the care offered to their Walta and assume the responsibility to care for the children from outside or at a distance from their

Walta. Their short to long term care is a manifestation of Martu ways of caring

(compassion and sharing) and is not White ‘foster care’.

These families are a smaller unit within the Walta that Tonkinson (1991:66) calls the

“hearth group” and consists of the mother and father, their children and perhaps one or two relatives and some older children and their children. The Walta is extended in that the nurture and care ordinarily offered to their relatives is extended to a broader group of people. These families provide extended Walta care in Wiluna and it is hard to say whether there is such a family within each Walta but there are a number in Wiluna. The following examples of how these families operate provide the clearest picture of the role they play.

The first family provides extended Walta care to all the Martu in Wiluna although their preference seems to be helping their closer Walta. The carer is a grandmother who is

207 senior Martu woman and a non drinker. She provides help to children, women with children and older people. Children are often placed with the family by other Martu or by

Ngangganawili or in some cases they just arrive. The children who ‘just arrive’ are closely related to the family and they choose to come to the family when their carers are debilitated by alcohol or drug abuse. Other children have had long periods of care with the family.

Some are placed by Department for Child Protection (DCP) as the carer is a recognised foster parent.

The support this family provides covers the basic care when the children arrive as they are cleaned up, fed, given clothes (they keep a store of children’s clothes). Every effort is made to maintain the children’s normal routine or if none exists to establish one. That is, sending them to school and providing meals when the children want them. The children are returned home when the senior woman considers it safe, that is when the parents have sobered up or settled down. In addition to providing actual care for the children, the senior members of the family may actually become involved with supporting the other family if the relationship allows.

The motivation to provide the care and support was said by the family to be a continuation of a role the family had fulfilled for a number of generations in the desert and on stations.

The current generation was continuing this caring role. This grandmother was quite clear that it was a responsibility established by Tjukurrpa that all Martu had to assist others if they had something to share. The only modification to this behaviour was her refusal to assist “drunks or druggies”.

208 The second extended Walta care family was a single mother with a number of children including her daughter and granddaughter living with her. She was born on a desert station where she lived until she was sent to the Mission for her education. From the Mission she was placed with a number of European families as her parents had been convinced that it was “good for her” to grow up in a White family.

The care she provides to her children and others is motivated by the good care she had received from her own family and the bad care she received in foster care. She was determined to provide a better life for children. In her words, “she fosters to give the kids a better chance than she had.” She has formally and informally fostered over twenty

European and Aboriginal children. The foster arrangements have been initiated by her, the

‘welfare’ agency, the children, and their families.

The third family that provides extended Walta care is also a single mother who works full time. This type of care is a family tradition that was started by her mother. She said that her family is very large extended family and all the children are cared for in that network.

Walta for her is the ‘blood’ family rather than the classificatory kinship system.

The woman indicated that when children had been placed with her by DCP, she felt that she was unable to stop parents taking them. Apparently, parents just come and take children, which suggest that such the foster arrangements are hard for Martu to enforce especially as the DCP is not based in the town. However, she says that the children exercise their own choice and tended to come back and stay with her. She provides care for children mostly because the parents are drinking.

209 This senior Martu woman said she learnt parenting from her parents, aunts, and grandparents. She grew up on stations with her Walta but was sent away to school in

Kalgoorlie and then Perth. It is clear that her Walta was very important to her, as she ran away from school with her cousins to stay with relatives. Her motivation is to ensure that other children have the experience of care within a Martu family and they too have someone to turn to.

These three examples show the commitment of some Martu families in Wiluna to ‘hold’ and care for Tjitji. It is clear from what these carers said that the motivation to care for children and others comes from the example of their parents and grandparents and that they had learnt parenting from within the family. These families have recognised that some members of their family and other families cannot care adequately for their children and have continued to maintain the Martu value of compassion and sharing in offering the children something better. Each of these extended Walta care families is an example of the framework of Kanyini and the resources that are contained within the Martu domain.

Martu Problem Solving Process

Kanyini is also expressed through a problem solving process that seems to be followed when a family member is seen or perceived to be maltreating a child or is failing to hold their child. Elements of this process are;

• Involvement of people in the correct relationship with the family members;

• Problem solving is dealt with inside the Walta in the Martu domain so there is no

need for family to defend their family against another family;

210 • Process of problem solving progresses through various escalating stages designed to

correct behaviour. It starts with modelling of correct behaviour, and use of

humorous stories designed to encourage a change in behaviour. It progresses to

quiet discussions with the person of concern designed to persuade, then to more

serious discussions with senior family members. If these fail public shaming is

used to pressure the person to change. Finally, violence is threatened and if there is

no change, it is then carried out.

This is process is perhaps best described by the following example.

A granddaughter of one of the senior women was not caring for her daughter and she continued to be a long term concern to the family, the Ngangganawili and the Family

Centre. I heard concerns about this woman because of her alcohol abuse from a number of quarters for most of the fieldwork. She had been forced to give her first child with a family member (an uncle at Bondini) because she was neglecting the child, but had fallen pregnant again and now had a baby girl. A similar situation developed with the second child and the process taken by the family highlights the steps in the Martu problem solving process. The steps followed can be summarised as observation of the situation, then discussion about the situation within the Walta group, and then action designed to create a change in the care giver’s behaviour. Finally if all else fails the Department for Child Protection is involved or the family intervene and place the child within its Walta.

Observation - In a small town like Wiluna, it is hard not to be seen or to be heard.

The lack of privacy annoys the Europeans in Wiluna but acts in a positive way in

the related world of the Martu to ensure children are being cared for. The first stage

211 in the process seems to be ‘watching’ or observation of the person by their closer

relatives. These people are senior enough, usually older mothers and grandmothers

actual and classificatory, and close enough to have the authority to make sure they

are listened to by the person. It seems that they individually listen to the stories

being told about their relative without intervening remembering it is difficult for

people to intervene and impinge on another’s autonomy. In the case of the

grandmother, she had observed her granddaughter leaving the baby with other

families for long periods. The baby was seen with others as people moved around

the town, which raised questions. The mother was also seen to leave the baby

unattended on a blanket on the verandah of the hotel, which the family and the

health service considered an unsafe situation for the child. As a result, her Walta

had drawn the conclusion that the mother was drinking too much again and

neglecting her baby. Interestingly, the failure of the father to fulfil his role and

responsibilities for the child and the mother did not seem to warrant a place in the

discussions.

Discussion – As the concerns about the care provided by the granddaughter

persisted, closely related members of her Walta came together to discuss the

situation. This group said that they had to take some action, as they described both

the daughter and granddaughter as bad mothers. These discussions were numerous

and occurred at the HACC centre away from family. From what the senior women

said, they also had discussions with other family members. Essentially the problem

solving process was around what they could do and who should do it. It was

decided that the grandmother would talk to the girl whilst others were encouraged to

ensure that the baby was safe. At this stage, the Health Service’s Martu workers

212 were asked to monitor the baby’s health, and to ensure that she did not come to long

term harm. Otherwise, the process did not involve anyone outside their Walta.

Action – Apparently, the girl was approached in a gentle manner and talked to by

her grandmother. This did not have an effect so other members of her family were

asked to talk to her privately and offer help. Again, this had no effect so the

approaches to the young woman became more public with the hope that the ‘shame’

would have an effect. This seemed to have an effect as the young woman

approached two Nyoongar families, who worked at Ngangganawili, to care for her

child. On one occasion, the child was left for a weekend with the family who cared

for the baby until Monday. The family intervened and insisted that the mother look

after her child. Gradually the approaches to the woman became more direct and

finally threats of physical punishment were made. The situation came to a head

when the grandmother was said to have given her granddaughter a very public

dressing down. She was then assaulted by her granddaughter. The assault was seen

to be more than a punch and the grandmother was clearly very upset and very

emotionally hurt by the incident. As a last resort, the family referred the matter to

the Department for Child Protection to take action. The shaming was too much for

the young woman and she ran away with the child to her father in Leonora. DCP

have placed the child on the ‘at risk list and asked DCP in Leonora to check.

The strategy adopted by the family was to try to get the mother to accept that she had a responsibility to care for her child and to stop her from drinking. They resisted the pressure to care for the child and urged her to change. The approach to the mother by her senior relatives was done in a helpful and conciliatory manner in trying to get her to honour her

213 responsibility. When these attempts failed, the family began using a strategy of shaming.

Senior respected and closely related people to the woman talked strongly to her often in a public venue. It could be said from that the family were trying to balance the mother’s autonomy to decide to not care for the child against her responsibilities for the child and use a combination of their authority and their relatedness to force her to change. It was only after all their attempts had failed that they involved DCP as a last resort. Even though they had asked DCP for help, the Walta remained involved and used of their family networks in

Leonora to monitor the mother and her daughter.

Another senior Martu woman summarised this child care problem solving process for her

Walta as being;

• Talk to the carer’s older or more senior family member and try to get them to talk to

the person neglecting the child.

• Talk to the carer her self and talk to other family members.

• Tell people straight they are doing the wrong thing.

• If these steps do not work the family can ‘flog’ (physically punish) the carer to try

to get them to do the right thing.

• If all else fails involve the police or DCP depending on who is around.

• DCP/Police involvement is a last resort and it is aimed to shame the carer.

This woman says she gets “really angry when children are not looked after”. Her reputation is such that says this anger is real and she does ‘flog’ (physically punish) family

214 members. She said she has looked after other children from her family and she does this to protect the children when parents are abusing alcohol or drugs.

Does Kanyini Work for All?

Both the extended Walta care and the problem solving process are examples of Kanyini’s nurturing with authority and the older generations holding the younger. Most of the information about these Martu child wellbeing approaches resulted from the stories and conversations with people providing care for children. However, I was fortunate to be able to talk with a woman who had been the subject of the care provided by her Walta. It was clear that she had thought about her experience and surprisingly talked about her thoughts after she had reflected on how she was treated. The insight she provided is particularly beneficial in the Martu environment where few people felt comfortable about talking about parts of their life that were hurtful for them.

Her story showed that whilst care by her Walta was complete it was not the same as the care provided by her parents. She also showed a fundamental hurt experienced by all children when they lose the care of their parents.

The important parts of her life are that she lived happily with her parents until they separated which created a “crisis in her life”. Her Walta stepped in and arranged for her to live with an aunt. She recognised that her Walta provided very good care through out her life and she is still close to them. The issue for her is that she was not able to grow up with her mother and father and she still feels some anger towards her parents.

215 She said that these feelings affected the way she cared of her own family and she admitted to being very selfish and not looking after her own children. Like the previous examples of the Martu extended Walta care, her Walta became concerned, talked to her about the right way to care for children and then told her ‘straight’ that she was not looking after her children well. When this failed, her Walta took over the care of her children. She said that she was angry about their actions as she considered that many of her family did not look after their own children any better. Since then she has forgiven them as her children made the choice to come back and live with her when they were older. She is now a grandmother and says that she is actively involved in looking after the grandchildren allowing her daughter the freedom to ‘grow up’.

This woman talks about the ‘shadowy hand’ of the police and the ‘welfare’ in her placement with her family. She does not remember anyone sitting down and talking with her about what was going to happen and the reasons for the shift to her aunt’s house. At no time in her life has she been offered support and counselling by DCP to deal with the issues around her care by her Walta.

Her experience has led to feelings of anger towards her family shows that there is a need for a greater awareness of the child in the use of Martu child wellbeing system and kinship care by the Police and DCP. This system is still used frequently by the officers from DCP to solve child maltreatment concerns in Wiluna.

Martu Child Wellbeing Approach

Related to the adaptations to the Martu child rearing principle of Kanyini is the development of what I called the Martu child wellbeing approach. The Martu would see it

216 as part of their system of care, but because it involves cooperating with White agencies such as DCP and it operates across both the Martu and contested domains. It was important to identify this Martu innovation, as it had been an intention of this research to develop an action research project to foster the creation of a specific Martu child welfare approach. This intention was based on the erroneous view that no such approach existed and that the Martu would welcome the development of an approach. As previously commented this like the other parts of the research project were changed in response to the reality of Wiluna and guidance from the Martu through the senior women.

The reality of the situation was that the Martu already had a child wellbeing approach in place. This approach had been developed over a number of years in conjunction with the staff and the committee of Ngangganawili. It is a basic but well thought out approach that combines the Martu extended Walta care system and problem solving approach,

Ngangganawili, and the expectation that the appropriate government agencies specifically the Department for Child Protection (DCP) would provide culturally appropriate/secure child welfare services to the people of Wiluna. This approach combines the best of both worlds in that it draws on Martu strengths and expects government agencies to provide citizenship services to the town of Wiluna.

Ngangganawili provides culturally appropriate health services for the Martu. It is also a point of detection for child maltreatment through their regular family health checks and monitoring of child and maternal health. Their Martu staff and networks also ensure that concerns about particular children are brought to the Health Service’s notice. However, they are not equipped to deal with much more than emergencies where children are seen to be at a high level of risk and action is taken to ensure the safety of the child.

217 Ngangganawili’s Child and Family Centre offers support for families and children. Their focus is to work developmentally with Martu families to improve child health and welfare and to assist in the preparation of children for school. Their child and family maintenance role includes providing simple services such as the provision of water for children under six months of age, supply of second hand clothes, a play group and an activity area for school age children. Their service is Martu based and is very much dependent on Martu who want to work in the Centre.

The final part of the approach is DCP. Even though experience in Wiluna shows that there are clear risks in relying on a service from DCP, the benefits of an effective DCP service cooperating in a Martu child wellbeing approach in a town such as Wiluna were demonstrated when it successfully operated for a number of months. At this time, all parts of the approach operated effectively and a number of children and families were appropriately assisted. The Health Service monitored at risk children and provided developmental support through the Family Centre. DCP provided a quality child and community support service through an Indigenous officer who had established good relationships in Wiluna and was providing a reliable service to the town. The families offering extended Walta care continued their usual efforts and care was provided to at risk

Tjitji. The DCP role in the approach began to fail with the resignation of the Indigenous officer. They were unable to recruit another suitable worker.

There are multiple risks for the Martu associated with the DCP service. DCP are not present in the town and they ‘promised’ to provide a service for two days a week. The weekly service is unreliable, as it seemed that the service to Wiluna is given a low priority.

According to the Health Service, DCP has made promises about a regular child protection

218 and community development service over many years, which they have not been able to sustain. In the period of the research, the DCP service to the town could be best described as being unreliable and at worst absent. They like other agencies have had problems with recruiting and filling positions in their service centre of Meekatharra. There seems to be a tendency in times of staff shortage to cease providing services to Wiluna and concentrate on Meekatharra. As a result, there was no real service to the town in the first half of 2006.

Things improved after a meeting between the Ngangganawili CEO with the DCP Regional

Manager and a culturally competent Indigenous officer started to visit Wiluna every fortnight for at least two days.

An absent or unreliable service means that DCP is not able to provide an adequate child protection service to the town of Wiluna, which places Ngangganawili in a defacto role of providing their services for them. Ngangganawili are not funded for this service nor are they appropriately trained. They endeavour to ensure that the child is not left is a situation where it is at risk of maltreatment. When children are identified by health staff as being at risk the CEO or the nurse manager or the doctor are forced to contact DCP and at times

‘harass’ them into dealing with the issue at hand so that Ngangganawili is not left managing a difficult situation. Not only are the people being denied this important child protection service they are being denied the other important DCP services. The absence of a DCP means that the Martu do not receive; support and counselling for families and individuals; child protection; services for parents; crisis support; advice and information, educational support, licensing, support and information on child care and vacation care; youth support; foster care; adoption; support for community groups, and funding for services. (DCD

Website downloaded 10 February 2007)

219 There is no caveat on the web site that says DCP services will be provided if you are close enough to a large town or Perth or that services will only be provided if they are able to recruit the staff. It is a clear commitment to state wide services.

Another issue about DCP is their misuse of the extended Walta care system. Children are placed with the families with informal assistance from DCP (said to be more culturally appropriate) and as a result, there is either a reduced foster payment or no payment at all.

Given the poverty experienced by most Martu the extra payment from DCP would assist in providing this care. DCP are actively involved in arranging care for at risk children but do not formalise the arrangements, which save them a considerable amount of time and paper work. These arrangements can be seen to be exploitative of those families who are able to provide care to members of their Walta and they run the risk of putting too much pressure on these families by placing troubled children in their care.

If the anecdotal evidence from people in Wiluna is correct, DCP has not provided an adequate service to Wiluna for years. As a result the Martu, most of whom could be said to be living in poverty (one of the major determinates of family breakdown), and who experience a high level of family violence have been denied access to these citizenship services.

The advantage of the Martu child wellbeing approach is that it is robust and it is unlikely that all parts of the approach will fail at one time. It is based on the traditional system of

Kanyini and on the networks of care within Walta. The layers of support acts to ensure that the maltreatment of Martu children is not ignored. The approach is fragile in that there are risks associated with not being able to recruit staff for the Family Centre and

220 Ngangganawili. DCP also represents a threat to the approach both from failing to provide services and in providing a manner of service that overlooks and acts to undermine the

Martu approach through the delivery of culturally inappropriate services, and failure to remunerate appropriate carers.

The previous sections talk about the changes to the way the Martu child care principles have been applied since the Martu families have come to live in Wiluna. These descriptions indicate that the Martu have had to adapt to pressure from the White domain by making changes to these principles in their domain. Life for the Martu in Wiluna has also challenged a number of Martu child rearing values and practices

Definition of a Child

As Martu Tjitji are the focus of this research, it is important for there to be a clear understanding of how Martu currently define a child and childhood. They know and understand that legal definition of a child in Western Australia (Children and Community

Services Act 2004 Part 1 Subsection 3) is “a person who is under 18 years of age, and in the absence of positive evidence as to age, means a person who is apparently under 18 years of age”. However, knowledge of the legal definition did not mean that the Martu embraced this definition.

As the suggested previously, Martu view childhood quite differently. The Martu in Wiluna are of the practical view that childhood ceases around fourteen years of age. For most young men it is this time when they are judged by their Walta to be ready to be initiated into the Law. This is the age that many young Martu women become sexually active.

221 (Personal communication Ngangganawili staff member:2007) It also seemed that around this time that the majority of young Martu began dropping out of school.

The differing definitions of when childhood ends and the nature of a child create the potential for conflict between the two domains. It is most evident in the criminal justice system with young Martu men well under the age of eighteen expressing their adult status through drinking and driving. The senior Martu women said that there is a perception that as men that these young Martu do not have to go to school. So after initiation it becomes hard for the education system in Wiluna that does not have a post secondary or adult education sector, to engage young Martu men.

Autonomy

The autonomy or freedom of children was not problematic in the desert, on stations, or within the Walta where there is the space and permission for the child to explore their environment and their relationships. However, for many Martu children the process of transitioning from the Walta in the Martu domain to the contested domain is problematic from a number of perspectives. In the school environment where obeying the instructions of the teacher is central to the functioning of the classroom, a Martu child who simply does not understand the rules, or chooses not to comply creates a degree of tension. In this example, a Martu child that behaves in a manner consistent with their Martu culture will be seen by White culture of the school, as being uncontrollable or problemised. It is not surprising that many young Martu children express their autonomy to choose to stay within

Walta and not attend school. Most Martu carers seemed to recognise the importance of education but said that they cannot force the children to go to school. The ‘Kids Centre’

222 has been able to provide an alternative and has acted as a bridging place between Walta and school. The Centre has assisted a number of these children to make the transition, as they were more comfortable with the way the Centre operated and were able to learn how to behave in the school environment. The expression of the autonomy of Martu children by not attending school continues to be a problem.

A further example of a Martu child’s autonomy and freedom, was seen in a young girl of 3 or 4 years of age who was often observed wandering by herself or with other children either at Bondini or in town. In this instance, she wandered into a yard of a house at Bondini where I was talking to a mother and her adult daughters. Apparently, the girl is a child of concern to the health service because there did not seem to be a particular person who is taking responsibility for her even within the breadth of her Walta.

I asked the group of women about the girl. They confirmed that she is part of their family group and that she is looked after by them. The women described how she wanders around

Bondini but only within the range of her Walta, which is two of the three sides of the reserve. The child is sent back to her Walta if she wanders further by the other families.

They said, she knows she can play, move around safely and will be able to get something to eat from any family member. All she has to do is to ask or demand food and she is given what people have to give.

In other desert Indigenous areas where I had worked, a lone child was seen to be a child at risk as they were not with their Walta or with their age mates. Therefore, I asked the women if she was a neglected child in Martu terms. They responded unanimously, and perhaps defensively, that she was not neglected as she is always looked after by family and

223 everyone keeps an eye on her. She is said to know who family is, who is to be trusted and was exercising her autonomy to do what she wanted. At the time of the conversation, her carer was in the sorry camp away from the main part of Bondini.

As can be seen from this example Martu children are given a great deal of freedom to explore their surroundings from an early age. They are closely supervised when they are young, but as they grow up, they are able to learn for themselves by listening to other people, observing how people do things and being told what to do by important people.

Children have great freedom to choose what they want to do, when they sleep, eat, and where they play. Life in a family is not strictly regulated. However, this autonomy in the environment of town and White expectations around attendance at school and behaviour has become problematic for both the Martu and for the White domain.

Discipline

There was general agreement amongst Martu that it was important for family to provide love and discipline, good nutrition, a clean environment, clean clothing, and good accommodation for children. However, there were differing opinions in regards to the amount, type, and level of discipline for children. Some Martu said that they were very strict and described themselves as being hard but fair. These people tended to be those who were brought up in the Mission, who were fostered with non-Indigenous people or had grown up on and worked on stations. Others in contrast, who had grown up in a Martu environment, emphasised the more traditional autonomy of children, with learning how by doing and observing, and freedom for children. Both groups seemed to know that physical punishment of children was frowned upon by the ‘welfare’ but all considered hitting a child

224 with a stick or an open hand as being appropriate last resort punishment. These stories point to a confusion around the appropriate manner for disciplining children. The traditional perspective based on the autonomy of the child stresses the importance of encouraging the child to learn by doing and relying on non-physical means of disciplining children. The contemporary approach seemed to be based on the hard justice of stations and missions that saw physical punishment of children as being appropriate. Martu said that they understood that physical punishment was seen to be inappropriate and they were concerned that some children were hit harder or with inappropriate objects than was necessary.

Rights of Child as Opposed to the Rights of Walta

In Wiluna, the Martu seem to give equal weight to the rights of child and to the rights of family, remembering a range of people provide parenting in the Martu context and not just the birth parents. The values of relatedness and compassion ensure that there is a desire to balance competing demands in a family. The autonomy of the child and the expectation that they will assert their will ensures that in all but the very young that the child makes its wishes known. It is incumbent on those adults who ‘hold’ the child, to ensure that the child’s wishes are met.

In discussions with the senior women, it seems that there is no distinction in Martu between the rights of the child and Walta. There is every attempt to ensure that both sets of rights are met. It suggests that Martu processes will be used to reach a compromise that enables the child to be safe and nurtured and ensures that the child and their Walta remain close together and within their Ngurra or country. This is contrary to the current approach of the

225 White domain that places the concerns for the child in front of those of the family. The

White domain considers the removal of a child from their Walta and Ngurra as being appropriate if it is in the child’s best interests. However, Martu do not and consider that it is of great importance that the ‘at risk child’ be kept within their Walta and Ngurra.

Peer Group

Groups made up of friends and relatives of roughly the same age and gender play a significant role with the socialisation of children. Children seem to join the groups from two or three years of age. Younger children were observed being taken by older siblings on walks around the town or Bondini. The Kids Centre staff suggested that this group also plays a protective role of the children and that they train younger children in areas such as toilet training.

The peer group or group of age mates in the context of Wiluna has become more important as the ability of Walta to care for children has decreased. The group of friends and relatives has become another means a child of meeting its needs. These groups tend to congregate at houses where there is a stronger Walta where there is fewer alcohol and drug related problems.

The way Martu have adapted their child rearing, principles, practices, and values to the influence of the White domain and their life in the contested domain in Wiluna suggests a continuing belief in and the desire to follow the requirements established by their

Tjukurrpa. They continue to maintain their Walta, and when it is able, it functions well.

The system of care of Kanyini ensures that most Walta hold their Tjitji. Both these child

226 care principles have been altered and extended to provide for children who are not held by their Walta. Martu have responded to the negative pressures from within the White domain in the form of alcohol and drugs and the neglect of the town of Wiluna by the social service agencies by expanding and building on their child care principles.

The continuing pressure of the White domain raises the question of which domain should change the way they care for children. Should the Martu should make more changes within their domain and if so, what changes should they make? Should the White domain make some changes to its approach to the Martu? The key issue for this research is that the

Martu were relatively recently and in quick succession; removed from the desert, forced to live the life of refugees in a foreign environment of a mission then a town with no rights, and now with all the rights of citizens of Australia have to adapt to a technologically advanced life in a poorly serviced remote town. They have made significant changes within a short period. Does the White domain then have a right to demand more changes or should it change?

Influence of the White Domain on Martu Child Rearing

The impact or influence of the White domain on Martu child rearing can be seen in Martu concerns about their children’s welfare. They are concerned about those parts of their and their children’s life that are outside the sphere of their own domain in the contested domain.

Most of their Tjitji emerge from their domain well equipped for life in Martu terms but poorly equipped to operate in a world that expects them to be able to speak and read

English and operate in a White manner. Martu are well equipped to deal with concerns

227 within their own domain but they are struggling to deal with influences of alcohol and drugs, assimilatory change, and the pressures of White domain. The development of the

Early Childhood Centre (Kids Centre) and the evolution of the extended Walta families are two examples of their efforts to address their concerns. Throughout the research, Martu expressed concerns about four aspects of the impact of the White domain on their Tjitji.

• failure of Walta to hold their Tjitji,

• the effect of alcohol and drug abuse on all Martu,

• an unwillingness by young people to learn about the ‘right ways’ of living

according to Tjukurrpa and in particular the right way to care for Tjitji and Walta ,

and

• the impact of change on Martu life and children.

Failure to Hold their Tjitji

The concern about the failure of Martu Walta to hold their Tjitji has been addressed within the previous section on Kanyini. Martu were concerned about the breakdown of their systems of care of children caused by the effects of alcohol and drug abuse. This is not to say that they blamed the alcohol and drugs, but they were unable to explain why they and others abuse these substances.

228

The Effect of Alcohol and Drug Abuse on all Martu

Martu are very concerned about the influence of alcohol on all aspects of their life and their

Walta. In particular, they are apprehensive about the effects of alcohol and now drugs on the following of Tjukurrpa’s requirements about looking after the children.

Most of the Martu indicated that they were worried about the neglect of the children of drinkers, whilst others were also apprehensive about impact of family violence. The older

Martu were unhappy that drinkers did not fulfil their ritual obligations and some were concerned that alcohol was present in the initiation camps causing a negative influence on ceremonies. Most Martu said that their traditional systems for maintaining harmony, resolving conflict, and caring for people were significantly depressed by the abuse of alcohol. Martu concerns were mirrored by the police and the Health Service who both said that alcohol abuse contributed 75% of their work load.

The fortnightly pay/pensions life cycle in Wiluna is marked by four to five days of binge drinking that suspends most positive aspects of life and brings a great deal of trauma.

However, in an interesting use of a rights based approach, the drinkers strongly and actively assert their ‘right’ to drink, but with no statement about their responsibilities to themselves, for family or Tjukurrpa.

Never the less it is clear that alcohol in particular and to an increasing extent drugs are having a debilitating effect on Martu Walta. The senior women see this as the main

229 priority and gave numerous examples where alcohol abuse has affected a family’s or a mother’s ability to care for their children.

Unwillingness by Young People to Learn About the ‘Right Ways’ of Living

The theme of knowing the ‘right way’ but behaving differently emerged from many conversations with Martu and their families. Many Martu showed a real confidence and certainty when they talked about the right way of living their life in accordance with Martu ways, their Law and the Tjukurrpa. However, at the same time their lived life was quite different to the ideal. This suggests a common human failing of not being able to live up to the highest standards of one’s culture. It also suggests a confidence and a strength in that part of their life within the Martu domain and an uncertainty or an unwillingness to deal with aspects of their life outside of their domain (see Tonkinson’s 2006 Wentworth

Lecture).

The senior women expressed a great deal of despair about the way the modern Western life had begun to undermine Martu ways. It was their view that it is up to the parents to talk to the children and to pass on their Martu ways and stories, but they were concerned that many parents do not take on this responsibility. They said that many young Martu parents only ‘screamed’ at their children instead of talking to them. The senior women said that the children ‘go mad when parents are around’ and suggested that they had much greater control over the children and that they considered the parents to be too permissive. So on one hand the parents can be said to be allowing their children the freedom and autonomy that Martu ways demand but the grandmothers are saying that they are too permissive

230 suggesting that there is too much freedom. A consequence of this is that the cultural knowledge and stories are not being passed on.

The senior Martu women are of the view that the current parents are not respectful of their wisdom and cultural knowledge. Perhaps it is as McCoy (2004) suggests that the parents are lost generation because of the influence of the mission, in this case the Seventh Day

Adventist mission, their dormitories and the welfare system. The senior women expressed concern that they did not know what to do to ensure children are brought up correctly by their parents.

Impact of Change on Martu Life

According to Tonkinson (2006) Mardu are largely in control of those aspects of their life that are contained within their domain even though there are considerable pressures on that system. As said before the primary task for Martu is to manage change within their domain and to manage the contested domain.

When Tjitji emerge from the care of their Walta into the contested domain and in particular enter the education system, they begin to be challenged by the demands of living in a White environment where English is the first language and Western culture dominates. For most

Tjitji entering the education system is the first time that they would have encountered

Western ways of life unless they had spent time in the hospital system. Whilst the contested domain is now more sympathetic to Martu culture, the state institutions still presume even at an early age that Martu children have certain knowledge and skills. For example, children are expected on entering pre-primary school to have had exposure to

231 books and reading, are able to speak and understand English, and are able to operate in the constrained White world of a class room. Unfortunately, this is not the case in most Martu families. The child rearing practices in the Martu domain emphasise knowing and supporting their Walta, living in accordance with the requirements of Tjukurrpa, knowing and understanding their Ngurra, and knowing how to live and survive in the bush.

Learning is promoted by the telling of stories, by children imitating and modelling adults and peers, and by verbal instruction. These strengths of Martu children are not valued by the White domain. The teachers, as representatives of the White domain, do not understand and problematise why the Tjitji cannot read, why there are no books in Martu houses, and why Martu Tjitji cannot sit quietly in a room and listen to a young usually female teacher.

These important Martu strengths are seen and portrayed as negatives to be solved.

There are also basic structural reasons for learning difficulties. The over crowding of a

Martu house causes significant problems for a child to learn or to practice reading.

According to Ngangganawili, there are atleast five people living in each bedroom, there is little furniture with nowhere to store books, no quiet space in the house to practice, and there is no tradition of reading. In a lifestyle dominated by poverty where regular meals are the priority, reading and books have a low profile.

The importance of developing skills to deal with the contested domain has been recognised by the Martu in the development of the Family or Kid’s Centre. The education system has shown itself to be unable to accommodate Martu culture so the Martu have responded by deciding to manage this process of transition through the Family Centre. It is a clear example of a decision and action by Martu to manage change that is situated in the contested domain. However it is early in the process and there are many developmental

232 problems both within the Martu domain and in adapting the White model of family day care to Martu ways.

There are other areas where there is recognition of a need to change or at least question some aspects of Martu ways of child rearing. A number of senior Martu expressed concern about the freedom and autonomy of children for two reasons.

The first area of concern is the environment of Wiluna and the risks it poses for young children. The perceived risks come from those who abuse alcohol and drugs who encourage children to join them. It was made clear that the child care principles that are central to Martu life of autonomy and freedom placed Tjitji at risk because of the changed environment. The concern is for the groups of younger children who in their wanderings around Wiluna in a largely unsupervised manner could be at risk. The suggestion is that until the environment is improved that the freedom of children needs to be reduced and monitored.

The second concern is that older children are demanding more freedom with less responsibility than Martu ways allow. This situation is similar to the concerns of the Martu in Jigalong during the mission days, recorded by Tonkinson (1991:117), that related to the pressure from young Mardu to ‘marry for love’ rather than continue with promised marriages. The senior Martu women said that their children’s demands were fuelled by the emphasis on the children’s rights by White bureaucrats and teachers. Many parents said their children said that ‘you can not stop me because the school said or welfare said’. This is an interesting combination of two values from the Martu and the White domains, the

Martu value of autonomy and the Western emphasis on individual rights. It is also an

233 aspect of intergenerational change since the beginning of colonisation that has been a recurring theme in the tensions between old and young Martu.

The theme of ‘contested space’ is recurring within Wiluna. In this case it is characterised by the Martu desire to maintain or at the very least manage the level and rate of change within the Martu domain, and the pressure from the White domain for the Martu to make changes ‘for their own good’ which act in a way that forces assimilation. However, this pressure is not necessarily negative. The employment opportunities, on the mines for example, brought by the Native Title agreements bring a possibility of greater economic freedom. However, they also bring a need for Martu to learn the skills to operate within the

White domain.

The Martu’s management of change within their domain and the contested domain is presenting them with significant challenges. It is seen in the area of child rearing where

Martu are questioning the worth of values such as the autonomy of children that see them able to successfully refuse to attend school and the level of freedom given to young children in the changed environment of Wiluna. However, the Martu have been able to sustain themselves through significant and imposed changes since contact with White

Australians. They have used their domain as a place of resistance and have protected their

Law and culture from most imposed change from the White domain. There stories about the way they have brought up their children and the way they ensure their wellbeing show the importance of the four child rearing principles. These continue to be important influences in the way Martu bring up their children. As the pressures of the White domain in the form of alcohol and drugs, the unhealthy sedentary lifestyle causing chronic illness and early death, and family violence have caused some Walta to fail to hold their children.

234 The Martu have used the strengths of their domain and expanded their system of care or

Kanyini to include children from other Walta who are not being held.

Conclusion

From what Martu have said, it is clear that they have a distinctive way of rearing or

‘growing up’ their children. This system of child care has been developed over thousands of years and has served the Martu people well. The Martu system of child wellbeing based on the Walta and Kanyini ensures that children are brought up in a caring safe environment of family and are cherished by all. However, it is recognised some Walta cannot care for their Tjitji, because of the breakdown of families and the effects of alcohol and drugs.

A number of Martu families offer a ‘safety net’ of extended Walta care to at risk children in

Wiluna. The Martu child wellbeing system, offers care to at risk children and a process of encouraging parents to care for their children. Combined with the work of the

Ngangganawili and the (unfortunately) unreliable DCP service to Wiluna it forms what can be loosely called a Wiluna child wellbeing approach.

Martu have been forced to make significant changes in the short time since they were colonised which has had a negative impact. They have responded to the White domain by retaining and building on the strength of their domain, in a way that has served to support

Martu families who have suffered from the impacts of introduced White problems. Martu have been changing constantly in response to the White domain however, the White domain has done little to accommodate the Martu. The White theme continues to be ‘why

235 don’t they change’ (to become more like White Australians). In the vanguard of the demands on the Martu to change were the SDA missionaries who stopped Martu from speaking Martujarra, prohibited the practice of the Law, and separated the children from the parents in dormitories. Others agencies such as the education system continue to demand that the Martu children speak read and understand English on entry to school and continue the demand for the Martu to change. The continuing poor outcomes for the Martu in terms of ill health, social and economic poverty, educational attainment, and unemployment, indicates that the way they have been treated by the White domain in the short period since contact, has caused great harm. It is my conclusion that the White domain now needs to change the way it works with the Martu.

The next chapter addresses the final part of the research questions, of the implications of

Martu child rearing for the child welfare system.

236

Chapter Six The Implications of Martu Tjitji Pakani

With the indulgence of hindsight it is inviting to suggest that the people and Government of

Western Australia were happy for Indigenous people to remain invisible while in the desert.

Once some contact brought them into public attention, they were equally happy for them to

be moved to another site and situation where the cloak of invisibility could once again

descend. (Davenport et al: 2005:167)

Introduction

The stories told by the Martu show that they have their own way of bringing up their Tjitji, of ensuring their Tjitji’s welfare and their own model of child wellbeing. This is not to suggest that there is a single Martu voice and a single way of bringing up their children.

The life patterns associated with child rearing that emerged from the stories reflect the life and the views of all of the Martu involved in the research project. These are located within the Martu domain and cannot be considered in isolation. Martu life has to be viewed in the context of material poverty, poor health outcomes, insufficient and inadequate housing, poor education outcomes, almost 90% unemployment rate, a booming youth population, and a low life expectancy. All of this is situated in a highly remote and poorly serviced town.

237 These Martu stories have enabled the first part of the research proposition to be explored and they confirm that there is a unique Martu child rearing system. The remaining part of the proposition, that of the implications of these ‘Martu ways’ for the child welfare system is the subject of this chapter. The purpose is to establish the basis for the tension between the Martu and White child welfare systems and identifying opportunities for improved service delivery, both in quality and cultural appropriateness, to Martu Walta and Tjitji.

Before I move on I would like to take the opportunity to restate a number of points that are central to the research that could easily be lost in the consideration of implications.

Throughout the research, I have endeavoured to remain focussed on the context of the

Martu in Wiluna. Unless stated the findings of this research relate specifically to the

Martu. In the consideration of the implications of Martu child rearing, I refer to the child welfare system and use the short hand term ‘welfare’ to reflect two things. The first is that the Native Welfare Department, as the forerunner of the Department of Child Protection

(DCP), historically was responsible for Indigenous housing, education, health services, rations and food supplementation programs, welfare and family support services, and with the police, they enforced the law. The second is that in the contemporary situation, this responsibility is shared by a number of government agencies. As a result, the child welfare system is defined in a holistic manner that includes all those agencies that have an impact on Martu child wellbeing. In Wiluna, these agencies control, directly and indirectly, the income maintenance system, housing, health, mental health, job creation, family support services, child protection services, community safety, legal aid services, enterprise development, and perhaps Native Title. There are very few non-Indigenous Australians whose lives have and are so directly controlled by the government and its agencies.

238 The implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system is explored through the following critical lens.

Implications

As explained in Chapter 2, this research adopts a critical approach because of its

“emancipatory” values (Rigney:1997:120). The specific Critical approach used here is

Tribal Critical Race Theory or “TribalCrit” as developed by Brayboy (2005:427). He developed TribalCrit as Critical Race Theory (CRT) “does not address the specific needs of tribal people and their … experiences of colonisation”. TribalCrit “emphasizes that colonization is endemic to society … while acknowledging the role played by racism”

(Brayboy:2005:427). However, the TribalCrit approach is located within the context of

American Indians in the social, political, legal, and economic systems of the United States.

As a result, it requires some minor modifications for the context of the Martu in Western

Australia.

Brayboy (2005:430) developed “nine tenets of TribalCrit” and I have modified these tenets to allow for the unique context of Australian Indigenous cultures, colonial history, socio- political context and the context of the Martu in Wiluna. These changes are consistent with

Brayboy’s (2005:427) modification of CRT for his Indigenous context. The core focus on colonisation and then racism remains the same. For example, I do not use Brayboy’s third theme of, “Indigenous peoples occupy a liminal space that accounts for both the political and racialized natures of our identities” as it specifically relates to the US situation where there are treaties that establish Indian sovereign states. The situation of “liminality” does

239 apply to the Martu context where there are no treaties to create a separate legal/political

Indigenous identity. Other changes to Brayboy’s tenets are explained in each of the themes.

The following Martu specific ‘TribalCrit’ themes will be used to asses the implications of

Martu child rearing for the child welfare system.

1. The Colonisation of Martu is Recent and Ongoing.

2. The colonisation of the Martu is based on White imperialism, and a desire

for material gain.

3. Martu maintain their own identity through their domain.

4. Unique Martu cultural concepts.

5. Governmental and educational policies are assimilationist.

6. Martu worldview is central to understanding their lived realities and their

difference.

7. “Stories are not separate from theory; they make up theory and are,

therefore, real and legitimate sources of data and ways of being”

(Brayboy:2005:430).

8. “Theory and practice are connected in deep and explicit ways such that

scholars must work towards social change” (Brayboy:2005:430).

These themes provide a framework that enables the ideas developed in the previous chapters and the stories told by Martu about child rearing to be brought together to inform this analysis. Each of these themes is interconnected and is derived from the focus on the impacts of colonisation. Brayboy (2005:427) emphasises that TribalCrit is based on

240 “multiple, nuanced” and “historically and geographically located epistemologies and ontologies found in Indigenous communities” that differ “depending on time, space, place, tribal nation, and individual”. The interrelationship is not linear or in a White sense predictable.

The TribalCrit framework adapted for the context of the Martu talks first about the historical and a contemporary processes of colonisation used against the Martu, role of racism in maintaining the powerlessness of the Martu, and the implications of these for the child welfare system.

1. The Colonisation of Martu is Recent and Ongoing

Colonisation is central to Brayboy’s (2005:431) TribalCrit approach, which he argues is “at the heart of TribalCrit; all other ideas are offshoots of this vital concept.” The relevance of the TribalCrit approach becomes immediately obvious when the post colonisation experiences of the Martu are examined because it is seen that this process has had a significant negative impact on the Martu.

Brayboy’s TribalCrit (2005:431) with its primary emphasis on colonisation both as a historical and a contemporary reality whilst recognising the role played by racism more accurately reflects the context of the Martu in Wiluna than the approach of pure CRT that solely focuses on racism. Colonialism and racism are the two major forces that have seriously affected the life of the Martu since contact with Europeans.

241 The process of colonisation of the Martu’s Ngurra has been described in Chapter 4. The important aspect of Martu colonisation is that it was recent and it is very different to the process commenced with Cook in 1788 on the east coast of Australia. This fact is not well known and is due in part to the ignorance of most Australians, and I include myself, of the experiences of Indigenous peoples from the desert. I must admit to being surprised by the

Martu stories and by the story told in Cleared Out (Davenport et al) that tell of the recent and ‘brutal’ colonisation of the Martu. The assumed uniformity of Indigenous colonisation experience carries with it a White expectation of the impacts of colonisation. It is assumed that all Indigenous people have lost most of their culture, their Law, their language and have had their ties to their Ngurra completely cut. As a result, the assumption by the child welfare system is that Indigenous people speak English, understand and comprehend White ways of working and have been assimilated into the White world. The White domain believes that the services for Indigenous groups like the Martu, do not have to be customised to meet their distinct social, cultural and spiritual needs.

The Europeans colonised the coast and other hospitable areas of Australia first, and the process largely ignored the desert until the colonisers found that its lack of a White population had a value. After the Second World War, in the environment of the Cold War, the Australian Government needed a large area to test military weapons such as the atomic bomb at Maralinga and the Blue Streak rocket at Woomera. From their perspective, the desert was an ideal location. As a result, Martu were colonised by technologically advanced modern Australians rather than the English who sailed to Australia in the eighteenth century. The Martu were simply hunted down, removed from the desert, and incarcerated at missions and settlements using trucks and planes. Whilst the intent of the colonisation has not changed, the Martu culture and the timing of contact meant that the

242 Martu experience is uniquely different to most other Indigenous Australians. As previously discussed, I was unable to gain a deep insight (see the section Challenges to the Research

Approach in Chapter 2) into the impact of this experience of this recent colonisation on the

Martu. A number of people such as the Ngangganawili doctors who suggested the Martu are experiencing post traumatic stress syndrome. However, there is no suggestion within the services delivered by the child welfare agencies that there is an understanding that the

Martu are recently displaced refugees, who could be suffering from trauma associated with their forced removal from their Ngurra and subsequent relocations. These agencies do not have an understanding of the history of the Martu, and without this insight, they have not had to contemplate whether there is an impact on Martu Walta and Tjitji of their removal from the desert.

The timing and impact on the Martu of the first contact with Europeans was comparatively recent and potentially traumatic for many. The traditional hunter and gatherer pre- colonisation life ceased for many of these Martu only fifty to sixty years ago. Their libertarian treatment of children based on many thousands of years of life in the desert was interrupted in the first instance by colonisation and then by demands of missionaries and

‘welfare’ to abandon their traditional ways and assimilate. Their success in surviving in the harsh environment of the desert suddenly was considered irrelevant and assimilation into the White community was actively encouraged.

The concern here is with the way Martu have been treated since their first contact with

Europeans. In this short period Martu have been subject to Government action (as distinct to the actions of private individuals and organisations) through the various incarnations of the Welfare Department in Western Australia that has involved, forced removal from the

243 desert, incarceration in missions, exploitation for their labour, discrimination, assimilation, and now they are denied citizenship services.

Removal of the Martu from the desert was the first aspect of their colonisation and the second and current aspect has been their neglect. Once the desert was emptied of all the

Martu, they ceased to be an immediate problem for the Government agencies. The Native

Welfare Officers left Martu in the care of missionaries at various mission stations around the desert and the Department for Native Welfare paid the missions for the care of the

Martu. Much of the responsibility for the Martu was transferred to the missionary group allowing Government agencies to reduce their involvement.

Now some fifty to sixty years later the Martu still live in these settlements and the same

Government agencies claim that they do not have the resources to provide citizenship services to those settlements. This perspective is driving the debate around the viability of remote Indigenous settlements and some like the past Minister for Indigenous Affairs

Amanda Vanstone (2005) are lobbying for the closure of these settlements. This current neglect is driven by the high cost of delivering services in a remote town, the perception that Martu are hard to work with because many do not read and write English, difficulties in recruiting staff, the lack of political power of the Martu, and an ignorance of the Martu history and culture.

The neglect of Wiluna is well documented in the Department of Indigenous Affairs

(2004:19) report, which states:

244 If the welfare system is designed to ensure that those most in need have access to

the basic necessities of life including shelter, clothing, food and education, it is not

working.

The DIA report also defines the ‘welfare system’ in a similarly broad manner as is used in this thesis. This State Government agency is arguing that these agencies, who are responsible for providing the basic necessities for life of “food, shelter, clothing and education” that are essential for ensuring the wellbeing of Martu Walta and Tjitji, are failing. In the absence of these services, Martu have had to fill the service void by developing their own responses to their needs as documented in the previous chapter. The

DIA report documented the neglect of the Martu in Wiluna and the silence with which the report was received is further evidence of this neglect.

Examples of neglect can be found in the story of the redevelopment of the Wiluna Primary

School and the role played by the Governor General in highlighting this neglect. DCP is another agency neglecting the Martu. According to Ngangganawili, the visiting service provided by the DCP has been at best unreliable and at worst absent. In providing an unreliable service to Wiluna, DCP is failing to provide specific child protection services to the town and a range of other services. Most importantly, the DCP workers have been unable to establish relationships with the Martu and their organisations that would allow them to assist when there is a very real concern about a child. Nor do they have the cultural and historical knowledge of the Martu to be able to work with them to build on the Martu extended Walta care child support approach and develop culturally appropriate child and family support services. This type of approach to the Martu was characterised by Fanon

(1963:190) as being;

245

Colonial domination, because it is total and tends to oversimplify, very soon

manages to disrupt in spectacular fashion the cultural life of the conquered people.

This cultural obliteration is made possible by the negation of national reality, by

new legal relations introduced by the occupying power, by the banishment of

natives and their customs to outlying districts by colonial society, by expropriation

and by the systemic enslaving of men and women.

The provision and maintenance of public housing is another area of government neglect in

Wiluna. During the eighteen months of fieldwork in Wiluna, three houses burnt down.

One caused by bad wiring, one was malicious and the other was burnt after it was unroofed by cyclonic winds. A further house used as the women’s centre was virtually blown down and had to be demolished. This is in a town where there is a high level of over crowding

(up to five people per bedroom) and insufficient housing stock and none had been rebuilt.

With three fires in a relatively short space of time the town lost ten percent of its public housing stock.

In Wiluna, unemployment, poverty, alcohol abuse and family violence have an unhealthy interrelationship. According to both the Police and the Ngangganawili 75% of their work is alcohol related and the times during the fortnightly payment cycle when there is not much money are very quiet. The senior Martu women said that they considered alcohol to be the major problem in Wiluna. Many Martu said that the traditional means of mediating or prevention of violence cannot be used when alcohol is involved. Even though

Ngangganawili is funded to employ an alcohol and drug counsellor his work is

246 handicapped by the absence of a residential alcohol and drug rehabilitation service in the region and other healing services in the town.

In order to understand the implications of this neglect of the Martu and their town by child welfare agencies the connection between this neglect, the stress, and pressure on Martu families, and the material poverty of life in Wiluna has to be appreciated. Neglect or institutional discrimination by the State creates an environment of societal harm to families and children, and creates an environment that leads to maltreatment of children. Poorly understood cultural differences in child rearing practices means that the interventions by the

Government child welfare agencies are at best ineffective and at worst compound the damage caused to the individual and their Walta by that maltreatment. Service providers need to acknowledge that the Martu are not powerless victims of this process and have been able to draw on the energy and resources in their domain in spite of this neglect.

However, the neglect by the child welfare agencies diminishes the ability of the Martu to deal with the challenges in the shared domain. Fanon (1963:191) typifies this situation as,

“The poverty of the people, national oppression and the inhibition of culture are one and the same thing.”

The neglect of the Martu and the town of Wiluna by these Government agencies is evidence of institutionalised racism which is defined (Paradies, Harris, & Anderson:2008:4) as “Requirements, conditions, practices, policies or processes that maintain and reproduce avoidable and unfair inequalities across ethnic/racial groups (e.g. Indigenous people experiencing inequitable outcomes in the criminal justice system).” The neglect in terms of low levels of service delivery and in terms of the absence of the culturally appropriate services delivered by these agencies is clear evidence of this structural racism.

247

The current process of colonisation of the Martu is best seen through the example of a Perth based agency using an Indigenous worker to educate Martu about the dangers of co- sleeping. This example occurred during a field visit and it records the Martu response to the approach of ‘Whites know best’. The Indigenous worker was placed by her employer in a very difficult position. She was armed with the knowledge that there is an increasing rate of Sudden Infant Deaths Syndrome (SIDS) deaths (see Telethon Child Health Research

Media Release of 26 May 2006) amongst Indigenous children in Western Australia, which is potentially caused by parents sleeping with their children. However, she did not know there had been no Wiluna Martu children to die from SIDS related illnesses in the last five years. (Personal communication CEO Ngangganawili). Nor did she know that co-sleeping was a Martu cultural practice that was still mostly followed and that it is the Martu’s view that their traditional co-sleeping (the same as the Sami see Chapter 3) had prevented these type of child deaths. The good intentions of the agency and the Indigenous worker are understood. However, the reaction of the Martu says the visit was interpreted as an imposition of white practices on the Martu. A Martu woman’s ire was raised by the inappropriate use of a member of another Indigenous group to deliver the message, the lack of understanding of Martu cultural practices and the lack of preparatory work for the visit.

The question has to be asked, if a Martu child does not sleep with or near their parents where would they sleep? Houses in Wiluna are chronically overcrowded. Most Martu houses do not have beds and people sleep on the ground on mattresses, and there are between three and five people per bedroom. In addition, there is always a danger presented by people affected by alcohol. The agency’s approach clearly angered the senior Martu woman and then the whole town. The result was tragic as there was an excellent

248 opportunity for this agency to raise the awareness of the dangers of co-sleeping especially when the carers abuse alcohol and drugs.

This is but one example of what occurs daily in Wiluna in the school, the justice system, and the health system. The superior positioning of the White domain based on scientific knowledge and reason, and told in English and most often in writing serves to ignore Martu worldview, culture, and beliefs. In the school, the teaching is of white concepts, history, and knowledge using English as the only language of instruction. The courts and the police operate in a judicial system based on evidence, procedure, and facts recorded, written, and told in English in a manner that alienates most Martu. The health system (not

Ngangganawili) deals with people in a body parts approach that ignores both the whole person and the holistic approach Martu have to their life and their concepts around ill health and the role of spirits. All these White systems are ignorant of Martu culture, language, and worldview. In Wiluna Whites are a minority but their culture dominates that of the Martu. Brayboy (2005:430) (citing Lomawaima & McCarty (2002)) describes this situation as a goal of ‘‘civilization ... [which] assumes that what is required is the complete and utter transformation of native nations and individuals: replace heritage languages with

English, replace ‘‘paganism’’ with Christianity, replace economic, political, social, legal, and aesthetic institutions.”

As the preceding section shows, the colonisation of the Martu is recent and has had a catastrophic impact. Throughout this continuing process, Martu have been treated in a way that suggests that the White domain culture does not place any importance in them or their beliefs. This is evidenced by the forced removal of the Martu from their Ngurra in the desert in the fifties and sixties without any suggestion of compensation then or now, being

249 thrown off stations in the sixties and seventies when the station owners had to pay wages, their post removal neglect by Government, and the assimilationist style Government services. This experience is compounded by the failure of the child welfare services to provide citizenship services to the Martu and their failure to comprehend the impact of the colonisation on the Martu.

Cowlishaw’s (1999:303) definition of colonisation provides an understanding of the implications of the Martu responses to their recent removal from their Ngurra. She talks about “severance of healthy connections between the land and its people”. Martu in response to their dispossession then neglect, have struggled to maintain the ‘healthy connections’ with their Ngurra and Tjukurrpa through the continued operation of their domain. The child welfare system therefore needs to address this long term neglect by commencing to provide services to the Martu, in a respectful manner that understands

Martu history, their response to forced removal, and the importance of relationships. Then the life for Martu Tjitji will have a chance to improve.

2. The Colonisation of the Martu is based in Imperialism, and a Desire for

Material Gain.

In developing his tenet of “U.S. policies toward Indigenous peoples are rooted in imperialism, White supremacy, and a desire for material gain”, Brayboy (2005:430) argues that policies towards Indigenous peoples were “rooted in a self-interested reading of legal concepts that allowed White settlers to rationalize and legitimize their decisions to steal lands from the Indigenous peoples who already inhabited them. This process highlights a divergence in the ways that White settlers and Indigenous peoples viewed the relationship

250 between people and land.” This theme modifies Brayboy’s tenet in response to the context of the Martu and the political environment in Australia. The difference between the contexts is the absence of an organised White Supremacist movement in Australia. While individuals may hold these values it is rarely manifested in an organised manner as in the

US.

Beresford and Beresford (2006:70) also identify the self interest of Whites as a factor in colonisation. They argue, “An explicit understanding has existed that depriving Aboriginal people of land would deprive them of the power, privilege, and status that come with it.”

This theme talks about the use of legal means to acquire Indigenous land and the difference between the way White and Indigenous people relate to land.

There are two significant implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system that are embodied in imperialist process of colonisation, of the fracturing of relationships between Martu their Ngurra, Walta and Tjukurrpa, and of the economic exclusion of the

Martu.

In the case of the Martu, their colonisation was motivated by the need to appropriate their

Ngurra immediately and without compensation, so that the weapons testing could be carried out. The benefit for the White Australians was in the testing of weapons in a time of the ‘cold war’. The timing of the colonisation of the Martu domain meant that there was no debate over the ownership of the land as White control of the country had been asserted for over 150 years. Even though Whites had not actually settled much of Martu country their dominion was assumed, and the Martu were moved to suit White interests. As the

Njanji story shows the concern expressed about the forced removal was moral rather than

251 legal. At this time, all debates about Indigenous traditional owner’s rights to the land had been held many years before with the decision given in favour of the White interests. The

Indigenous land rights movement that culminated in the legal challenge to the legal principle of Terra Nullius and the development of the Native Title process had not commenced at this stage.

The process of clearing the Martu and similar groups from the desert ignores the strength of their ties to their Ngurra, the spiritual importance and the need to maintain the rituals associated with their Ngurra. As stated in the Chapter 4, Martu ties to land are very strong and are quite different to the way White Australian’s view land. White Australians possess land for the material value, whilst Martu are related to their Ngurra or country and have strong spiritual and ritual ties.

Now that the desert has been cleared of Indigenous groups such as the Martu, the complex, lengthy, and divisive process of Native Title is the only means that Indigenous people have to restate their traditional ties to land and to gain some economic benefit from that land.

Even within the short space of fifty years of colonisation, the passing of knowledge has ceased with death of senior Martu, which now means that this process is fraught with difficulty. In Wiluna this process has created a deal of conflict between families and has not provided any material gain especially in regards to the wealth that is being exported in trucks, by planes and jobs from the region. The southern Martu Native Title Claim is still in the process of being determined, but the many mining companies with either present or future interests in the region are now forced to negotiate with the Martu about their present and future mining activities.

252 In the last fifty or sixty years Martu have settled in Wiluna, attracted either by the resources controlled by Whites in the town and missionaries or forced out of the Ngurra by Native

Welfare Patrols or by loss of the station jobs. They have come to feel that Wiluna is their

Ngurra. They made it very clear that they want to live in the town as they are with Walta and close to their Tjukurrpa Ngurra. They are happy to visit Walta in other settlements and towns but feel they belong in Wiluna. Wiluna represents the Ngurra as a place of residence that is the closest town to their Ngurra as country. Those who have had to leave do so because of the need to access life sustaining services such as kidney dialysis and have indicated that they maintain their Walta and spiritual links to their Ngurra and will return if these essential services are provided in the town. The stress of being treated for a chronic illness such as renal failure is compounded by the sadness the Martu feel when they are away from Walta and Ngurra. Tonkinson (2006:19) comments Mardu also indicated that there was, “the continuing pull of country and `home'”.

Martu have not been able to benefit from the exploitation of minerals in their traditional lands. They do not have title to their traditional lands, they do not possess skills required by the mining industry, and they do not have the financial wealth or the ability to attract such finance to be able to exploit the minerals. As a result, they remain in an economically powerless position of still having to rely on the Government for all their support. Beresford and Beresford’s (2006:70) conclusion outlined in the beginning of this section remains true in that Martu deprived of land have also been deprived of “the power, privilege and status that come with it”. Freehold title to their Ngurra would have provided the Martu a substantially different social and economic position than has the Native Title process.

253 However, there is one small example of a Martu approach to business that indicates the strengths that come from the Martu domain. A sandalwood harvesting business established and operated by one Walta group continues to be the one Martu enterprise that has continued to operate successfully for a number of years. The key is that the business is located within the Martu domain, which has enabled the Martu Walta involved in this enterprise to draw on the skills, knowledge, and strengths from their domain. Like the

Martu domain, the enterprise operates in a discrete manner so that it does not attract the attention of the dominant White domain.

The economic exclusion of the Martu has held them in a position where they have no or few sources of private income and capital, and are completely reliant on the good will and intentions of Government. In contrast, other Australians are able to obtain employment or engage in economic activity, borrow money, and purchase their own life needs. The child welfare services on which the Martu currently rely are the same services that were the vanguard of colonisation. The police, with their past powers as protectors of Aborigines, and the ‘welfare’ are the two main agencies, which retain a significant control over and contact with the Martu. As a result, these agencies have a difficult relationship with the

Martu based on their historical and current contacts. This situation ensures that the Martu live in an environment bound by poverty where they are completely dependent on government agencies. Their desire for independence and financial autonomy can be seen in the sandalwood project, but the absence of economic and education means, significantly inhibits this process.

The colonisation of the Martu has fractured their relationships especially with their Ngurra and Tjukurrpa, and has excluded them from the economic benefits contained within the

254 White domain. They have responded to this dispossession and exclusion by relying on their own systems within their domain. In the example of Martu child rearing, they have relied and built on their own principles and systems of care. These have been developed in response to the introduced problems from the White domain in the space provided by the neglect of the town of Wiluna. That space of neglect was provided by “the cloak of invisibility” (Davenport et al: 2005:167) of desert Indigenous people. The implications for the child welfare system of Martu response to the neglect and exclusion especially in their ways of child rearing are that the fractures have to be healed and the exclusion reversed.

The colonisation process has left the Martu without access to the Western power of capital and education and has served to diminish the strength of the Martu domain. At present, the resulting difficulties for the Martu mean that they rely on their own domain to ensure the wellbeing of their children. It also compounds the neglect of the town and as a result, the

Martu domain remains critically important both for current life and for their de- colonisation. The distinctive and ongoing nature of the Martu colonisation means that their de-colonisation is yet to begin, is a process that will have its own characteristics, and the strengths of their domain will provide the drive for that process. Even though the child welfare system led the colonisation of the Martu, and by the fact of its all encompassing control and influence of Martu life, it will either need to lead the de-colonisation process or completely remove itself from the life of the Martu. The success of the Martu domain suggests that their life without ‘welfare’ would be far more successful.

3. Martu Maintain Their Own Identity through their Domain

This theme talks about the Martu response to the colonisation of their Ngurra. As such it deviates from Brayboy’s (2005:434-5) tenet where he talks in the US context about, Tribal

255 autonomy” which is the “ability of communities and tribal nations to have control over existing land bases, natural resources, and tribal national boundaries.” This tenet is different from the Australian Indigenous context because the absence of treaties between

Indigenous groups and the Federal Government. However, Indigenous autonomy is an important concept, which “relates to the ability to define what happens with autonomy, how, why, and to what ends, rather than being forced to ask permission from the

[Australian Government].” In the past the Martu, like other Indigenous Australians, had to ask the child welfare agencies or their agents (for example Missions) permission to do most things like where they can live, who they can marry, and seek employment, most things

White Australians did not have to do. They continue to remain in a powerless situation where they are at the mercy of government agencies and have to accept the imposed ‘top down’ solutions. However, their response to these impositions that serves to manipulate the ‘solutions’ for their own benefit is evidence of the strength of the Martu domain.

In the absence of any real legal rights or treaties, the Martu have had to respond to their colonisation by holding their domain separate and apart from the White domain. The

Martu domain is not something that can be colonised physically or socially as it does not have a geographical position, it cannot be possessed or owned because it is located where

Martu happen to be, and access is governed by relationships and language. It however, suffers from the assimilationist pressures of the White domain in the form of the introduced problems of alcohol and drugs, and imposed White ‘solutions’. The Martu are forced to live in an environment of material, social and economic poverty that reduces their ability to maintain their own domain.

256 The Martu domain contains the strengths referred to by Tonkinson (2006) in his Wentworth

Lecture, where he identifies the reluctance by the Martu to use these strengths in the contested domain in business with the White domain. This reluctance is perhaps due to the

Martu desire to maintain the protective low profile of their domain. They have seen through their recent and brutal colonisation that overt resistance of the White domain brings pain and punishment, as evidenced by the Njanji story. Fanon (1963:191) comments on this adaptation by colonised peoples arguing, “A national culture under colonial domination is a contested culture whose destruction is sought in a systemic fashion. It very quickly becomes a culture condemned to secrecy.” However, the strength of the Martu domain is shown from time to time and is evidenced by the conduct and timing of the 2006/7 Law ceremonies when it emerged from the Martu domain to assert an authority in the contested domain and over the operations of the whole town.

With the Walta at its centre the Martu domain is the place where Martu children are reared knowing the meaning and where their Ngurra is located, their Tjukurrpa or Law and knowing that they will be held or Kanyini by their Walta. Children emerge from their domain equipped with the skills to live in their domain but with limited skills to understand or engage with White domain of the education system. The distance and separateness between the White and Martu domains ensures that the space of child rearing is heavily contested. The Martu child emerges from their domain into the White world of school, or hospital, or the commercial world of supermarkets and the Martu child rearing principles and practices are problematised and problematic because they are in opposition to the practices of the White domain. It is here that the clash between the two systems is most evident where there is competition for the life and mind of the child. The contested domain is where the assimilationist forces of the education system come to the fore where

257 education is about replacing Martu cultural concepts, language, behaviours, and worldviews with White worldviews, English, discipline and book based knowledge.

The management of the conflict between the two domains over the way Martu children are brought up is the subject of the consideration of the implications for the child welfare system. The conflict is over which domain has to change. The Martu have always had to change in response to their colonisation. In the contemporary context of Wiluna, and their recognition of the need to better prepare their children for school is seen in the development of the Family Centre, is another example of their ability to change. However, the White domain has not shown the same ability or insight. The basis of the position of the White domain has much to do with their position of power, their belief in the superiority of

Whites ways, and in their ignorance of Martu Law and culture. When the White domain delivers the child welfare services in Wiluna it is the same services as what is delivered in other parts of Western Australia. The continuing poor outcomes for the Martu as previously outlined, is evidence that this approach is not working for the Martu. The choice for the child welfare system is between maintaining the existing service approaches with the belief that in time that the assimilationist intent will force the Martu to slowly abandon the Law and culture. The other option is to recognise that they do need to change and to work with the Martu to design services that are consistent with and build on Martu strengths of their Law and culture.

4. Unique Martu Cultural Concepts

Throughout the research, Martu in Wiluna have asserted their distinctive culture and experiences saying that they are different to other Indigenous groups. Martu stories

258 disclose a differing experience of colonisation between and within families. This difference is reinforced by Davenport et al (2005:175) who argue that;

The Martu cannot be viewed as an unfortunate projection of wider society. They

have a distinct society. That society, grounded in the law, provides meaning,

richness, and aspiration. It sets priorities; people's decisions and actions are

founded upon it.

Davenport et al (2005) are not talking about the past, their comment is made about the present, and it reflects the principle concerns of the Martu in Wiluna that are the maintenance of their own domain and the centrality of the Law or Tjukurrpa rather than the demands of the dominant culture.

This theme of unique Martu cultural concepts based on Brayboy’s (2005:434) tenet of “The concepts of culture, knowledge, and power take on new meaning when examined through an Indigenous lens.” In taking this focus, he identifies specific Indigenous definitions and meanings of these concepts. He defines each of these concepts from his Indigenous perspective and says that Indigenous “culture is simultaneously fluid or dynamic, and fixed or stable”. Indigenous knowledge is defined as “the ability to recognize change, adapt, and move forward with the change”; and Indigenous power is “the ability to survive rooted in the capacity to adapt and adjust to changing landscapes, times, ideas, circumstances, and situations.” These definitions are based on the assumption of Indigenous control and autonomy.

259 In keeping with Brayboy’s focus on the different Indigenous meanings of concepts and

Indigenous control, this theme examines the way Martu child rearing, beliefs, practices and values as Indigenous culture, knowledge and power have been impacted by colonisation.

These have been and continue to be the focus of the colonising efforts of the child welfare agencies who assume that the White child rearing beliefs, values and practices are superior to those of the Martu.

Brayboy says, “TribalCrit migrates away from Western/European notions of culture, knowledge, and power and moves to notions that have been circulating among Indigenous peoples for thousands of years”. Martu worldviews and way of life in the desert sustained them for many thousands of years and it is only with the arrival of colonists that these ways are seen to be and become problematic.

The tendency of the dominant White culture in Australia to problemise or pathologise

Indigenous child rearing beliefs, values and practices is based on the belief of the superiority of their own ways of rearing children. There are a number of major reports such as the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody and Bringing Them Home report (Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission:1997:545) that provide clear evidence of the superior positioning of Whiteness. The Bringing Them Home report found that; “Cultural difference, particularly different family structures, can lead to adverse decisions by juvenile justice, welfare and other agencies.” Importantly the report

(1997:546) found that there were a number of “recurring themes” that were “ethnocentric assumptions” that led to “unnecessary interventions” and “to inappropriate arrangements for children in substitute care.” The assumptions were the implicit or explicit interpretation of extended familial responsibilities as ‘abandonment’ or ‘inadequate supervision’ and of

260 “travel to maintain familial and cultural responsibilities as ‘instability’. They also found that it had been assumed that “the level of freedom and responsibility accorded to

Indigenous children” was “a ‘lack of supervision’ or ‘lack of control’ over children.” The report (1997:546) strongly suggests that the “failure of existing [child welfare] systems” is due to the lack of understanding or the “pathologising of Indigenous child welfare practices and beliefs”.

The unique aspects of Martu culture dealing with child rearing beliefs and practices that have been pathologised by the dominant White culture are the child rearing principles of

Tjukurrpa, Walta, Kanyini, Ngurra, and the associated values and practices. These principles and values are very different to that of the dominant White culture and have been the target of colonisation and assimilation.

Tjukurrpa is the Law and is the central part of Martu life, it is sustained by, and it sustains the Martu domain. It is the worldview of the Martu and in itself is in opposition to the

Judeo-Christian basis of the legal system in Western Australia. The descriptions by

Tonkinson and Sackett of the efforts of the missionaries to destroy this aspect of Martu life clearly show that the Western culture found the Martu belief in the Tjukurrpa unacceptable.

Even today, the Seventh Day Adventist Church refuses to incorporate elements of

Tjukurrpa into their church ceremonies, (Personal communication with a church elder).

Their position is in contrast to the Catholic Church at Balgo where Tjukurrpa has been actively incorporated into their church ceremonies. (Personal observation)

Tjukurrpa dictates that it must be followed that it is unchanging and that contraventions will be punished. It is seen by non-Indigenous people as being hard, rough, violent,

261 dominated by the men and not something to be retained. In contrast, for the Martu it says how families should operate, how land should be held, and dictates the system of relationships. It is the source of all the wisdom of Martu life so it is central to the issue of child rearing. As one informant most powerfully said, “we are not Martu without the

Tjukurrpa.”

The Tjukurrpa or Law is the site of one of the greatest conflicts between the White domain and Martu and it is for this reason that this aspect of their life is held and protected within their domain. Shanahan (2007:279) comments that “Fanon understood the ability of powerful interests to define the national discourse, and even so to the disadvantage of the oppressive nation’s citizenry”. All efforts by the colonisers since removing the Martu from the desert, incarcerating them in missions and settlements, and now neglecting them have been based on a “national discourse” of assimilation.

The second child rearing principle of Walta or family which for most Martu in Wiluna it is the large extended ‘blood’ related group and those who camp with or are associated with that group. It is the Martu body or institution that cares for its members. In the discussion of child rearing, it is the group, mainly the birth parents and their siblings, the grandparents and the children’s cousins, who care for the children. It is this group that provides the

Kanyini or holding for the children.

The Martu Walta is clearly very different in form, philosophy, size, and membership to that of the nuclear Western family. In writing specifically about the Western Australian

Indigenous context Haebich (2000: in the forward) says that, “Overlapping circles of extended family lie at the heart of the lives of most Aboriginal Australians.” She goes on to

262 comment that, “these same familial systems have been the site of repeated attacks by successive waves of Australian Governments, tearing away at the very heart of family life.”

This historically based and continuing attack on Indigenous families serves to dissipate the strength of Martu Walta.

The centrality and importance of Martu Walta is a contemporary point of conflict with the

White domain. Martu say that there is an imperative to be with, visit family and attend family funerals, and these family activities are seen as being more important than employment, education, community events, and important meetings. Martu consider that the child’s knowledge of; respect and experience of Walta as being more important than its education, health care and remaining in one place. The high mobility of Martu creates real problems for educators and welfare staff who view their services as being far more important than the support of Walta or attendance at funerals. The Martu focus is on the maintenance of Walta and its incumbent responsibilities. Their goal is the preservation of

Walta and Tjukurrpa.

The third child rearing principle of Kanyini is strongly related to that of Walta. Whilst

Walta is the institution providing the care, Kanyini is the system of care. As stated previously it provides “nurturance with authority” (McCoy:2004:iii). When compared with the values and practices inherent in the child protection system the differences become stark. The dominant White system is predicated on there being a principal carer for a child and in most instances, that person is either a biological parent or a legally recognised carer.

The child or children then stay with that caregiver who has to know where the child is at all times and if they are not supervising the child they have to know who is caring for the child. It is not acceptable that this responsibility is shared. By comparison, in the system

263 of Kanyini, Martu children are cared for by a range of people through out life and they may be given to another person to be brought up as their own child.

The system of ‘holding’ when it is able, works to ensure that the child is cared for and nurtured largely in a group context, by a range of people much broader than the birth mother and father. In the Western system, this broad range of carers and freedom of the child is not understood, and is often seen as being a sign of neglect.

The fourth child care principle is Ngurra or country. As explained earlier Ngurra has many meanings. Ngurra is where a person is staying at a particular time, their home, or the location where the person has links to through Tjukurrpa. As such, it is a central part of being Martu. A child gains their identity and language from their Ngurra as opposed to the

White system where the individual owner gives identity to the land. In return, Martu are required to maintain the country through the practice of ritual and custom associated with the Dreaming for that area. For Martu, Ngurra is very important, as it is an integral part of their identity.

Martu told stories that said the worst thing a child welfare agency could do to a Martu child and its family would be to remove them from their Walta and Ngurra. In the case of

Njanji’s granddaughter, in removing her from her Ngurra, she has been prevented from being Martu, in that she would not know whom her Walta was, would not know her

Tjukurrpa, would not know her Ngurra and could not speak Martujarra.

The point of conflict here is that the child welfare system sees the safety of the individual child as being the paramount concern, which is often achieved through the removal of a

264 child from the environment where there is a risk of harm and placement with a carer often away from Walta and Ngurra. This approach gives priority to individual child safety, ignores what Martu consider to be of critical importance, that is, the four child rearing principles. It also ignores the harm to children caused by the environment of social and economic poverty, overcrowded and poorly maintained housing, and alcohol abuse. The mandate for the child welfare system is to address these causes of the maltreatment of children, rather than simply removing children.

There are certain Martu values that arise from the teachings of Tjukurrpa that are in conflict with the values inherent in the dominant child welfare system. Many of these values are clearly described in the Warriki Jarrinjaku Jintangkamanu Purananjaku:

Working Together and Everyone Listening (2002) (Warriki Report) and are referred to in

Chapter 3. The first is that the Martu regard Walta or family as being far more important than material possessions. They are clearly not materialistic in terms of the accumulation of assets, objects, or money. Martu see non-Indigenous people as being mean spirited because they place their material possessions in front of their relationships and family.

The non-materialism value is strongly related to that of reciprocity. In practical terms for the Martu, it means that they cannot and will not refuse a request from a family member for assistance, food, money, a place to sleep and care. They do so knowing that this will be reciprocated by other family members. The sharing is a dominant value for the Martu that reinforces the relatedness within Walta. This value means that there is always the potential for conflict with the child welfare system in that, children may not always have clean clothes to wear, food is shared and children may have to go without a meal, children may not attend school or health appointments may not be kept because of other family priorities.

265

Compassion especially when dealing with children is seen by the Martu as being a desirable quality. Children are said to be shown this important value by their parents and care givers never refusing their requests and demands thereby showing compassion by example. However, Walta will not anticipate a child’s needs, or impose their wishes because of the value of autonomy. It is up to the child to assert its needs, which places the

Martu system of care in direct conflict with the Western child welfare system that considers the child to be a passive recipient of adult care, and that the needs of the child are more important than that of the family.

Compassionate acts bring Martu into conflict with the values inherent within the child welfare system. The example of giving your child to another is clearly a decision based on the needs of a childless mother rather than the needs of the child. In this case, Martu women say that they ensure that everyone’s needs are met and no one’s needs over shadow another. The act of giving away a child is sanctioned by Walta and not by the Western legal system of guardianship or adoption. The Martu say in contrast to the Western system of adoption that there is no secrecy in this arrangement as the child is told who their birth mother and family is, they have regular contact and the child can choose if they spend some time with the other family.

The Martu value of respectfulness manifests itself in all aspects of their life. It is respect of people, relationships, country, and Tjukurrpa, but not respect of possessions in a Western sense. It extends from always asking before you visit another person’s country, to not shaming a person in public, to not arguing with another in public, to not refusing another’s request, and to the maintenance of one’s spiritual and ritual responsibilities.

266

The Martu value of freedom and autonomy for children is the most often misunderstood aspect of Martu life. All the writers on Indigenous childhood in the desert comment about the level of freedom given to children and the conflict between this value and the materialist values of the White domain. This freedom to explore, experience, and learn is no respecter of material objects. Tonkinson (1977; 1991) also talks of a similar conflict between the Mardu autonomy of children clashing with the White value of materialism in

Jigalong. The destruction of things around Wiluna is not the only place of conflict between the two systems. The freedom for a child to choose starts very early in age and creates problems when babies do not want to eat or take medicine. The parents will not force the child to do something and the health staff at Ngangganawili have to convince the parents or the carer to force the child to take the medicine. However, in older children, especially when they are with their peers this freedom extends to choosing things like where they sleep, who they sleep with, when they eat, what they eat, what they wear, and whether they attend school. The potential for conflict between the Martu system and the child welfare system over allowing babies and children the freedom to make a choice around basic life sustaining activities such as eating is huge.

A Martu person has to live by the requirements of Tjukurrpa and to live as close as possible to the “ideal” Martu. As children are considered small adults (Waltja Tjutangku Palyapayi) with all the rights and responsibilities of an adult, their autonomy is no different to that of an adult. This puts Martu children in a completely different role to that of a child in the

Western culture. Folds (2001:45 – 47) talks about the importance of autonomy in saying that “in their intense nurturing, caregivers are proud of their strong, ‘cheeky’ children, even though their autonomy often precludes them from the many benefits of ‘equality’.” He is

267 referring to education, health care, and employment. In essence, Martu children can choose whether they want to take advantage of the ‘benefits of the Western system’ and choose between Walta and education, being with peers and cleanliness, staying within the warmth of Walta and going away to school. Interestingly many Martu children do seem to understand the importance of education and health care and choose to take advantage of these.

From my observations in Wiluna and discussions with Martu that the level of concern about children decreases as they grow older and develop their preferred network of Walta and peers, their own desires and survival skills. As children are not seen as helpless beings in need of supervision and direction, independence for them seems to be developed by age three or four.

In Martu society, children move to young adulthood just after puberty. This transition is marked not by age but physical, social, and emotional maturity. In the case of males this transition from child to man is celebrated when they ‘go through the Law’ which is usually between twelve and fourteen years of age. In reality childhood seems to cease some four to five years before the Western Australian legal definition of an adult is reached, that is, eighteen years of age.

The early transition to adulthood creates problems for the child welfare system. After being initiated many young men do not consider it necessary to go to school especially when they are taught by a young woman. In some community schools (for example at

Balgo) this problem is overcome by the creation of a special class for initiated men that is taught by an older male teacher. The justice and child protection systems continue to treat

268 these young Martu men as children after their initiation when their Walta considers them men. In this period of four to six years, young Martu men and women are exposed to an inherent conflict between the Martu and White domains as these young Martu assert their new roles by drinking, driving and refusing to go to school.

The dominant culture insists that children have to be cared for by their birth parents or a legally recognised carer. Again, there are allegations of parental neglect when a child is being cared for within Walta and cannot be found or a parent is out of town and a legal guardian cannot be found. When children are held by Walta things such as permission to go on school camps and outings, permission to undertake medical treatment and the identification of a support person by the police, become problematic, as they usually require the permission of a legal guardian or biological parent.

The contemporary Martu world is characterised by the fact that for the Martu this is the first time in their very long history that they have a booming population and are blessed with many children who they clearly value. They care for these children in a manner consistent with the Tjukurrpa that gives the children a great deal of freedom in life, to learn by experience in their real world and autonomy to choose what they want to do from an early age. Martu child care is the antithesis of modern European child care. The children eat, sleep, and go to school when and how they want. They seem to be above all happy, but are dirty, noisy, and unruly. They wander around freely within the boundaries of the broad extended family or Walta. Their large extended family or Walta is spread around them and in close proximity.

269 The challenge then is for the child welfare system to respond in a way that ensures that

Martu children are able to grow up and experience their full potential as Martu in the broader Western Australian community. Martu life has and continues to be dominated by the child welfare system and this system needs to develop a level of maturity that enables it to work with the Martu in a way that does not pathologise their culture and beliefs and enhances the Martu domain. This demands that the ‘one size fits all’ approach to policies, programs, and intervention in Indigenous communities be abandoned. In its place, an approach has to be developed in each area that is based on a strong trust based relationship with the local Indigenous group, based on local history and culture and designed collaboratively to address locally identified areas of concern.

5. Governmental Policies and Educational Policies are Assimilationist

The adaptation of Brayboy’s (2005:436) tenet to the Australian Indigenous context focuses on the fact that Government and educational policies have “been rooted in assimilation.” In focusing on education, Brayboy (2005:437) claims, “assimilation requires students to replace this cultural knowledge with academic knowledge.” The goal for TribalCrit,

(Brayboy:2005:437) and the aim of education, is to;

teach American Indian students how to combine Indigenous notions of culture,

knowledge, and power with Western/European conceptions in order to actively

engage in survivance, self-determination, and tribal autonomy.

TribalCrit’s (Brayboy:2005:434) definition of knowledge is central to the role of assimilation in education and government policy. It is defined as the “ability to recognise

270 change, adapt, and move forward with the change.” Brayboy (2005:436) says that there are

“at least three forms of knowledge that TribalCrit addresses” and concludes that “This blending of knowledges—academic and cultural ones—creates knowledge that is key to survival. … This strategic use of multiple forms of knowledge generates power that is situated, dynamic, and historically influenced.”

Brayboy (2005:436) maintains that Indigenous people need to “blend knowledges” and continues saying “the ability to determine a place in the world (power) is enabled by knowledge American Indian communities have that is rooted in both Indigenous and

European sources of knowing.” According to Brayboy education for Indigenous people, is both a risk and an opportunity that needs to be controlled by Indigenous people, sensitively negotiated, and based on the strengths of cultural knowledge.

In the context of the Martu’s Wiluna, education presents the same risks and opportunities.

The risk is that, whether it is intended or not, the current education system in Wiluna acts as tool of assimilation against the Martu. There may be some design and aesthetic suggestions of Indigenous culture in the new school, but it still offers education that is designed for White middle class English speaking students. The system either ignores or is unaware of the Martu education provided to the Tjitji by their Walta. It fails to build on this cultural knowledge and fails to involve the Martu holders of the cultural knowledge in the education system. Attendance is a very good indicator of the cultural appropriateness of the education offered by a school in Wiluna, simply because Martu children will exercise their autonomy and refuse to go to school if it is not meeting their needs. The old primary school averaged around 20% of enrolled students attending on a regular basis.

271 It is easy for the education system to blame the Martu children and their families for the low level of attendance at the school. In doing so, the school compounds the racism already embodied in the education system.

Brayboy’s (2005:436) position that education is also an opportunity establishes another level of concern about the education system in the town. The education system in Wiluna currently represents a risk but denies the Martu the prospect offered by education. The combination of the assimilationist approach to education and chronic neglect of education and the school in Wiluna has served to prevent Martu children from acquiring academic knowledge. According to Brayboy, (2005:436) greater Indigenous power comes from the combination academic and in this case, Martu cultural knowledges that would lead to greater Martu sovereignty or control.

The education system ignores the cultural knowledge of the Martu and incorrectly expects

Martu children to speak and understand English, to read English, to value books and the knowledge contained within, and to be able to operate in the White environment of the school. The Martu domain provides children with the cultural knowledge and skills they need to live successfully as Martu including speaking a Martu dialect, understanding their

Tjukurrpa, knowing where they fit in their Walta and their responsibilities, and how to live in their Ngurra including knowledge about bush foods. As a result, the school labels their preparation for school and their behaviour as deficient and problematic. Unfortunately, the school does not have the skills and insight to build on the strengths of Martu cultural knowledge as part of their education so that education is a positive experience.

272 Another area where there is a significant difference between the two systems is to be found in the ‘ways of learning’ of the Martu and the Western cultures. Tonkinson (2006:21) comments;

Education probably best exemplifies this stark contrast in perspectives, and the

distance separating tradition from modernism. As in other hunter-gatherer

societies, formal instruction was mostly absent as a framed activity, and learning

took place predominantly via unstructured observation and imitation.

This practice is continued into the post contact world through the operation of the Martu domain and is especially evident in the behaviour of Martu children up to school age. In comparison, all education in the Wiluna School is by direct instruction usually delivered by young inexperienced female teachers with no Martu linguistic or cultural knowledge.

Whilst Tonkinson (2006:21) is referring to Jigalong Mardu, his comments about Mardu education are highly relevant to Wiluna;

Remote area schools today have never been better equipped or (in many cases)

staffed, yet among Mardu attendance levels and scholastic performance have

probably never been worse. The lack of employed locals as suitable role models

could be a factor, but schooling as a means to an end has little meaning to Mardu

children, given their circumscribed horizons.

The poor performance of the education system is preventing the Martu children from taking full advantage of the employment opportunities in the mining industry opened up by Native

273 Title agreements and the mining boom. As part of the agreements, most mining companies have employed staff to assist them to select, orientate, and train local Martu so that they can commence mining specific skills training. The mining companies who want to employ local Martu have found that the level of education is so low that potential employees cannot read or write and that it is not safe to allow them on a mine site, as they could not read safety warnings. (Personal communication:2006)

Other themes have dealt with the chronic neglect of the Martu and Wiluna by child welfare system. This neglect is embodied in the failure to provide essential citizenship services.

However, this neglect is compounded by the absence of culturally appropriate facilities and services for the Martu. In this context, culturally appropriate means those services and facilities that are consistent with Martu worldview, Law, and culture. A culturally appropriate approach is really the opposite of an assimilationist approach to service delivery. In order for the child welfare agencies to understand ‘Martu-ness’, they have to do a considerable amount of intellectual work that focuses on customising their services for the Martu. Martu-ising services is more than employing a Martu police officer, or having

Martu teacher’s aides in the school and cannot be achieved by developing Indigenous policies as State wide Indigenous policies ignore the reality of Indigenous diversity.

The work of ‘Martu-ising’ all aspects of an agency’s activities, involves incorporating their worldviews and ways of working in all aspects of the agencies work. For example, the new houses are all built in clusters of two and three with very small yards, which means families, will be living very close together. The driver of this design is cost as all the houses are built on rock so the installation of underground services such as power, water, and sewage is very expensive, so they are built close together. This is advantageous if the

274 intent was to cluster members of individual Walta groups in each group of houses.

However, this is not the intent and disparate family groups will be living in each house in very close proximity to each other, which is contrary to the way Martu would prefer to live.

The housing design of three and four bedroom houses, replicates White city based environments, which is again inconsistent with large Martu families of over 13 people, robust lifestyles, and life in a remote town.

There was no evidence in Wiluna that services of the child welfare agency were customised for the Martu. Many agencies produce client information in the language of target groups, however none was available in Martu in a written, or an audio format. Information that had been designed for Indigenous people is usually in English, and contains motifs and designs specific to other Indigenous groups that are often coastal in origin. None of the agencies delivered Martu specific programs. Those visiting services such as a play group deliver services to the entire region of the Murchison and the activities are not Indigenous specific.

Some programs are modified for Indigenous people but what works in the south west of

Western Australia does not necessarily work in Wiluna. Other child welfare agencies just ignore that their clients are Martu who do not speak, read, or write English. They ignore the economic, social and education poverty of life in Wiluna and expect Martu to travel 500 kilometres to Kalgoorlie or fly to Perth to receive assistance such as with health services.

As commented in the Chapter 4 on the Martu Domain there have been some recent improvements in the way these agencies operates but the summation by Beresford and

Beresford (2006:68) is correct. They refer to the RCIADIC, Stolen Children Inquiry,

National Council on Reconciliation and Gordon Inquiry and comment, “Precious little change has resulted from this Herculean effort.”

275 There are continuing risks for the Martu in the assimilationist policies and practices in education and other child welfare services which, whether intended or not, serve to challenge and deplete their traditional knowledge. In recognising that there are opportunities contained within these services especially in education, Brayboy identifies a contradiction or a tension for Indigenous people. The Martu are denied the opportunities embodied in all these services especially in the area of education simply because these agencies have failed to invest in customising their services for this unique context and consequently they continue to neglect of the town. The quality and quantity of all these services means that Martu are unable to gain from the opportunities. The result is that the child welfare system only represents a risk for the Martu.

6. Martu Worldview is Central to Understanding their Lived Realities and their

Difference

Brayboy (2005:437-8) states, “There must be recognition that the ways of knowing for

American Indians are vital to our self-education and self-determination. Similarly, the

Martu worldview is central to understanding their lived realities and their difference. In considering Martu child rearing the level of difference was sufficient for me to conclude that the dominant culture’s child welfare system did not accommodate Martu worldview, culture, and life.

TribalCrit according to Brayboy (2005:437-8) holds that, “Tribal philosophies, beliefs, customs, traditions, and visions for the future are central to understanding the lived realities of Indigenous peoples, but they also illustrate the differences and adaptability among individuals and groups.” Whilst each of the four child rearing principles outlined in the

276 theme on ‘Unique Martu Culture’ are “central to the lived realities” of the Martu, the third principle or concept of Kanyini or holding will be used to as an example of Martu “ways of knowing”. It is used here as it provides an excellent example of the differences between

White and Martu ways of child rearing and the adaptability of the Martu. Brayboy

(2005:438-9) stresses that “These concepts must be recognized as being viable and important for the lives of the individuals and members of the group. This recognition leads to different ways of examining experiences and theoretical frames through which to view the experiences.” In other words, the Martu concepts need to be viewed with the same respect as those of the dominant White culture.

Kanyini is a concept related to the way Martu and other desert Indigenous groups ensure their children’s social, physical, and emotional wellbeing. It is the third of the child rearing principle and as said previously it is centred on the extended family or Walta and is based on the Tjukurrpa or Law. It is a concept from desert Indigenous groups, that unifies all parts of their system of child rearing and is located in the Martu domain. As such, it is very different to the White child rearing principles that focus on the nuclear family, individual rights and responsibilities, discipline, and material accumulation.

It is in the discussion of neglect or abuse of children that the inherent conflicts between the two worldviews are revealed. McCoy (2004:140) found that “There are serious consequences if a person did not experience being held as a child or young person.” The failure to hold children as was said previously, is similar to but not the same as neglect and abuse in the dominant Western culture. Neglect in the Western context is the failure to provide life-sustaining care, where as, failing to hold includes neglect as well as failing to nurture, exclusion in the Walta, absence of guidance from an older person for the passage

277 through spiritual, ritual and cultural life. An important signifier or indicator of the process of being ‘held’ is the provision of food, shelter, and safety. These are often seen as the sole elements of Kanyini but they are only the obvious part of the whole system, and other aspects are much less obvious. The act of providing food serves to remind all involved of the relationship and the responsibilities of the holder and the held. The absence of

‘holding’ either caused by the failure of the Walta to hold their Tjitji or the absence of

Walta to ‘hold’, also has a spiritual and emotional dimension. Some children find this support within their peer group others fail to find this support, which perhaps explains the growing importance of the peer group in Wiluna. Young Martu seem to be seeking other avenues to be ‘held’. McCoy (2004:140) says the failure to ‘hold’ can lead to “extreme forms of autonomy”, as it can also lead to extreme feelings of loneliness and isolation. He says that the voice that cries, ‘I can do what I want’ can be interpreted by adults as the voice of a lonely person who calls to be ‘held’.

McCoy (2004) has provided an important insight based on important themes or patterns in desert life that of autonomy and Kanyini. This insight provides an alternative to blaming and indicates a potential for rebuilding or re-supporting Indigenous families, in this case

Martu Walta. The “extreme forms of autonomy” McCoy (2004:140) refers to is usually a province of male behaviour and expressed in activities such as binge drinking, drug abuse, petrol sniffing, offending, sexual activity, and risk taking behaviours in cars. These are often seen as negative problematic behaviours that are criminalised. Little is done to address the underlying causes. The desire to be ‘held’ according to McCoy (2004:143) is a strong driver for young men and in the absence of being ‘held’ by Walta, they seek to be

‘held’, according to McCoy, in football, in petrol sniffing groups, and in prison. I would also suggest that there is a need to explore whether the female expression of the failure to

278 be ‘held’ by Walta is expressed by forming sexual relationships at an early age and by early pregnancy.

Why then is there a “failure to hold”? As said previously there has been a population explosion in Indigenous settlements in the desert. As a result, there are fewer Martu to

‘hold’ this larger group. The number of senior Martu able to hold young people has been decreased by the impact chronic illnesses such as diabetes and heart disease. Some of those adults who live in Wiluna have their ability to ‘hold’ and fulfil obligations to their Walta compromised by their or their partner’s alcohol and or drug abuse, family violence, and poverty. Kanyini or ‘holding’ is still operating in Wiluna, but in a diminished way. The question is how do Martu address the need to “nurture with authority” this increasingly larger group of young people?

I would reason that an answer to this question lies within Martu society and that there is a need to work with those that are able to address this question. The Martu families that offer the extended Martu Walta care to children in Wiluna have already provided a local response to the reduced number of people to ‘hold’ children. This system is not understood, over used, and not supported by the child welfare system. What is clear is that the child welfare system does not understand these key Martu child rearing concepts, is doing little to support and reinforce Martu culture and acts in ways that serve to damage people’s capacities to hold and care for their Walta.

The example of Kanyini or holding provides clarity around the impact on Indigenous groups such as the Martu of the superior positioning of the White domain. Shanahan

(2007:280) refers to Fanon to explain this and argues “Race prejudice [in the colonial

279 context] in fact obeys a flawless logic writes Fanon. A country that lives, draws its substance from the exploitation of other peoples, makes those peoples inferior. Race prejudice applied to those peoples is normal”. The colonisers viewed the Martu as inferior and as a result, no perspective other than the White was considered. Currently this position is reflected in the White ignorance of Martu culture and beliefs manifested in the imposed

White policies and practices.

7. “Stories are not Separate from Theory”

The positioning of this research reflects TribalCrit’s (Brayboy:2005:439) tenet that

Indigenous “stories and oral knowledge [are honoured] as real and legitimate forms of data and ways of being. Stories are not separate from theory; they make up theory.” The research relied heavily on the stories told by Martu about their and their Walta’s history, the way that they were brought up, the way they brought up their children, and what they had seen around Wiluna. Collectively these build up a comprehensive picture of the way

Martu bring up their children, their experiences, and their challenges. These complex and rich stories tell of the uniqueness of Martu culture, post colonisation life, and beliefs. No other research approach would have provided the complexity of information that included individual, Walta and language group stories of their experiences.

The difference between the TribalCrit approach that honours Indigenous stories and the scientific approach of White research can be seen in the SIDS story related earlier. The

Perth based White agency identified that there had been an increase in the number deaths of

Indigenous children from SIDS. They then analysed the statistical data (see Telethon Child

Health Research Media Release of 26 May 2006) and concluded that the increase of deaths

280 was due to co-sleeping. Brayboy (2005:439) is critical of this approach and says that

“TribalCrit recognizes that the statistical power of the ‘‘n’’ is not necessarily the marker of a ‘‘good, rigorous’’ study.” This Perth based agency made the decision that Indigenous

Western Australians need to be educated about the dangers of co-sleeping to prevent further

SIDS deaths, without consideration and with no understanding of their ignorance, of potential cultural biases involved in such a conclusion.

Contrast this White agency’s scientific approach with the TribalCrit (Brayboy:2005:439) approach that emphasises, that “Stories may also be informative of structural barriers or weaknesses. In this respect, ‘‘proof’’ is thought of in different ways.” The stories told by the Martu woman indicated that there had been no SIDS deaths in the town, co-sleeping was a long standing cultural practice of the Martu, co-sleeping had been adapted for contemporary life and served to protect young children, and Martu co-sleeping was the reason why there were no child deaths from SIDS related causes in Wiluna.

In the context of Wiluna, the stories have much more relevance than statistics collected at a

State level. The Martu woman’s story theorises that co-sleeping prevents SIDS deaths and shows the White scientific theory of the cause of SIDS deaths to be false for Wiluna. The statistical analysis led to a conclusion that an important Martu cultural practice was deficient, problemised it and proceeded to attempt to extinguish it through an ‘education program’. Whilst the agency’s good intentions are not in doubt, they were intrinsically racist and potentially destructive.

The Njanji family story told in the Prologue also is an example of the strength of

Indigenous stories by showing the initial and ongoing impact of colonisation on three

281 generations of one Martu family. Their story and that of Yuwali told in Cleared Out

(Davenport et al: 2005) tells of the way the family was forced from the desert and the resulting impacts on the families of the ongoing colonisation. Little would be discovered from a White research approach, as there is little information in the White domain. The stories of the Martu are just being told. Davenport and her co-authors had to rely heavily on the stories from both the White and Martu people involved to provide information for the book. There is little statistical and scientific data on the impact of colonisation of the

Martu because it is not collected, no one is sure what data is required, and the numbers are too small to be statistically significant. However, as we have seen the Martu stories tell of real life experiences of real people that give voice to the theory that the colonisation of the

Martu was brutal, recent, and continues to have tragic consequences.

8. “Theory and Practice are Connected ... such that Scholars Must Work

Towards Social Change.”

In Brayboy’s (2005:441) last tenet, he says “we have come full circle because TribalCrit research and practice—or better still, praxis—moves us away from colonization and assimilation and towards a more real self-determination and tribal sovereignty.” This too brings the consideration of the implications of Martu child rearing back to the principle consideration for adopting this research approach, that of the “analyses competing power interests between groups of individuals within a society – identifying who gains and loses in specific situations” (Kincheloe and McLaren:2000:281) and in using research for social change. As such, this theme represents an opportunity to consider all the implications of

Martu child rearing for the child welfare system.

282 The Njanji family story that is told in the Prologue provides an insight into the impact of the colonisation of the Martu. The recent colonisation of the Martu, involved their forced move from a hunter and gatherer lifestyle into that of the twentieth century. In a matter of fifty or sixty years that have had to adapt to technologically advanced sedentary life in a town after many thousands of years in the desert. Their colonisation experience was significantly different to that of the Indigenous people who first encountered Europeans in the late eighteenth century. However, the White domain assumes a uniformity of

Indigenous experience for its own operational needs and ignores the time it has taken to colonise Indigenous Australia.

An important agent of colonisation in the life of the Martu has been the ‘welfare’, or the child welfare agencies. The Native Welfare Department was responsible for the forced removal of the Martu from the desert and the incarceration on missions and settlements. As the Njanji family story shows, the child welfare agencies continue to play a role in the life of the Martu and their involvement perpetuates the hurt experienced by the Martu. Now the desert is emptied of all Martu, the ‘welfare’ neglects Martu needs created by colonisation, ignores Martu realities and leaves them to deal with the consequences. It is clear that the racist superiority of the White domain deemed the Martu to have no importance and once the desert was cleared, the weapons tested, the Martu and their

Ngurra had no value.

The colonisation of the Martu has been continued through various avenues. All government services and programs delivered in the town are either designed for all

Australians or if Indigenous specific for all Indigenous people. They are a ‘one size fits all’ approach to the provision of services and assume that the dominant white worldview or

283 perceived single Indigenous worldview is suitable for all including recently colonised groups such as the Martu. Nothing in the town is designed with Martu culture in mind.

The houses are built on designs for White urban dwellers. The school is designed to teach

White culture and is almost overt in its assimilationist ideals. The Child Protection

Services play scant regard to the unique Martu ways of rearing their children.

The Martu have responded to their colonisation and the racist pressures from the White domain by steadfastly maintaining their separate domain that acts to preserve Martu culture and Law, nurture Martu Walta and their Tjitji, and resist the pressures to assimilate.

There have been many versions of Indigenous policy that have influenced the life of the

Martu in the short time since colonisation. The current dominant White perspective embodied by the past Liberal Minister for Indigenous Amanda Vanstone’s 2005 speech entitled ‘Beyond Conspicuous Compassion’ (Vanstone:2005), infers that Indigenous people’s lives will improve when they just assimilate. She like other conservative politicians (both Labor and Liberal) are talking about closing remotely located Indigenous settlements because of the expense of providing services. This position speaks loudly of racism, of lack of care and perhaps incompetence, and suggests that Martu are simply refugees in their own country with no rights.

Mostly everything about Martu life and the way they bring up their children is in conflict with the White domain. However, contrary to the view promoted by the popular media,

Martu cherish their children, their men are actively and positively involved in the care of their children, they do not condone incest, they have ceased the practice of promised marriages, they do not practice infanticide, and do not condone child maltreatment. In this

284 regard, they share much with the dominant culture. However, the difference is in the Martu worldview and culture.

As a result, I feel it is necessary to interrogate the assumption about the intentions of the child welfare system when they provide services and programs to Indigenous groups such as the Martu. Throughout the preceding sections I used the phrase ‘intended or not’ or

‘intentional or unintentional’ when talking about the actions of the child welfare agencies and impact of their racist and assimilationist services. The question of intention is an important consideration as the answer directs future action for social change. The strategies for change are dependent on whether the contemporary colonisation of the Martu that is characterised by institutional neglect is grounded in either, the child welfare system’s racism based on ignorance or colour blindness of the Martu (unintentional); or racism,

White superiority, and exploitation that actively serves to keep the Martu in a powerless position (intentional).

In the consideration of the implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system,

I accept that the intent of Commonwealth and State Governments is to improve the life and wellbeing for Indigenous groups like the Martu and that they charge their child welfare agencies with this responsibility. However, the experiences of three generations of the

Njanji family, and the material poverty, poor health, and high levels of family violence experienced by the Martu in Wiluna, suggests that the child welfare system is failing in its responsibility.

The challenge for the child welfare system is how they will work with the Martu and together contribute to Martu wellbeing, rather than to work against their interests. The key

285 question is what these agencies need to do in partnership with the Martu to improve their life and wellbeing, in a manner consistent with Martu ways and on Martu terms. The answer lies in improving White understanding of Martu Law and culture. The assumption underlying this position is that there is the belief in the superiority of the White domain motivated by, ignorance, a lack of understanding and knowledge about Indigenous people, a failure to involve Indigenous people in resolving their issues, and a colour blindness that fails to see the Martu difference.

Life for Australia’s White majority is focused on their own comforts and on the coast.

Little thought is given to the life for the groups such as the Martu in desert centre of

Australia until compelling stories of Indigenous need spark moments of White concern.

This racist position of the White domain is balanced by morally and religious based social justice movements that have been part of Australian culture and politics since colonisation commenced. These movements are evidenced by the actions of people such as,

• Reverend J B Gribble (1987) who campaigned against the treatment of Indigenous

people in the Gasgoyne and in the Kimberley regions of Western Australia in the

nineteenth century;

• Dr Charles Duguid (Graham:1985:25) who spoke out against the weapons testing in

the 1950s and 1960s; and

• Governor General Sanderson who supported Martu demands for a new school in

Wiluna.

286 The numerous Royal Commissions and Inquiries into Indigenous issues since Federation culminating nationally in the Royal Commission into Aboriginal Deaths in Custody and the

‘Stolen Children Inquiry’, and in Western Australia in the Gordon Inquiry into Child Abuse in Indigenous Communities, speak of the pressure brought by individuals and groups demanding improvements in the life and wellbeing for Indigenous people. Similar concern and pressure resulted in the Northern Territory Emergency Intervention Force for the

Protection of Indigenous Children.

Failure to recognise the past wrongs of these agencies, to apologise and then reconcile with the Martu, to work with the Martu on their priorities and in their ways will only perpetuate the current situation. The challenge then is for the child welfare system to work with the

Martu to ensure that their Tjitji are able to grow up, experience their full potential as Martu and Australians, and take their place in the broader Western Australian community.

In Wiluna, this is a significant and complex task for these child welfare agencies, many of whom are under resourced. However, many agencies like the police, the Shire of Wiluna and the Department of Education have commenced this process all with some degree of success. Many of the changes in approach do not have a financial cost, but they challenge ignorance, racist beliefs about the Martu, and individual beliefs of the superiority of

Whiteness. The changes that are required are more significant than a larger allocation of funding and resources.

287 Conclusion

In the preceding sections, I have used Brayboy’s Tribal Crit tenets to describe the implications for the child welfare system of Martu child rearing. The considerations of the implications have dealt with issues in a broad manner both by using the holistic definition of the child welfare system and by using a framework of colonisation. By the way of a conclusion I would like to use a specific example of the work of the child protection system in Wiluna to show how the Martu beliefs, values and practices around the way they bring up their children can be incorporated into their practice and can be used to enhance the way maltreated Martu children and their families are assisted. I have chosen to focus on the child protection system and its social workers because I have been critical of the services provided by the Department of Child Protection to Martu Walta in Wiluna and because the plight of maltreated Indigenous children was an impetus for undertaking this research.

The criticisms of the service provided by the now Department of Child Protection (DCP) in

2006 and 2007 are based on my observations of their work when I was in Wiluna, discussions with Martu, the reported experience of the staff of Ngangganawili Aboriginal

Health Service, and discussions with DCP workers when they were in Wiluna. I also draw on my own dated experience of working in Wiluna as a social worker for the then

Department of Child Welfare, in the early 1980’s where I knew nothing of the town, of its

Indigenous populations and where I was not a culturally safe worker. I must take personal responsibility for my lack of skills and knowledge at that time, especially in the light of the findings of this research, however, my sole orientation to the work of the agency and child protection was a six hour road trip with the social work supervisor between Geraldton and

288 Meekatharra before I commenced work. My total post graduation work experience at this stage was six months work as a community worker in the east Kimberley with an

Aboriginal community. Then and I suspect now, the most important issue for the agency was to have staff in the hard to fill position rather than the skills, knowledge and experience relevant to the local area.

The contrast between my negligible skills and experience in working with Aboriginal people in the early 1980s and Gilbert’s statement (2001:46) in writing about Social Work with Indigenous Australians is stark;

…….. social workers cannot expect to work effectively with Indigenous communities

without a sound knowledge of the history of Australia and the experiences of

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people with government authorities. Working

with Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people requires soul searching,

forgiveness, and preparedness to challenge our potential for racism.

Gilbert admits, “there is not much” in the social work literature about the “interactions of

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people and the authorities”.

I would now argue that that it is very important that the knowledge of the history has to include the local history of Indigenous/White contact and combined with an understanding of the pre-European contact Aboriginal culture of the particular area. Both these aspects of the history are likely to be different in most areas. Whilst I agree with Gilbert that there are legislative and social policy landmarks within Indigenous Affairs that have affected all

Indigenous Australians, there is significant diversity in how these were implemented locally

289 and how the local Indigenous people responded. It also needs to be remembered that I like other welfare workers before me were in the vanguard of the assimilation of Aboriginal people. I have outlined previously the role played by the Department of Native Welfare in the removal of the Martu from the desert. This agency, along with many of its workers, was amalgamated with the Department of Child Welfare in 1972 to become the Department of Community Welfare, which is a prior incarnation of the Department of Child Protection.

There is a shared history and an unbroken link between the Native Welfare and the

Department of Child Protection and the Martu see this strong link and continue to refer to

DCP as ‘the welfare’. In support of this link, Gilbert (2001:54) considers that the

“evidence leads us to believe that social workers accepted popular Darwinist thought and doctrines since that have harmed to lives of many Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people”.

In considering the specific implications of Martu child rearing for the Department of Child

Protection, I will first deal with the general considerations and then address the specific implications.

The first general area is understanding Martu difference and diversity. In the absence of knowledge and understanding about, in this case Martu people, it is likely the social worker will base their work on the agency’s policies and practices and their own is culture, thereby imposing foreign values and beliefs on the Martu. This is what I was forced to do in the absence of any knowledge about Aboriginal people serviced by the DCW Meekatharra office. The combination of Martu claims of difference, distinct Martu culture, and the unique post European contact history demands that workers with Martu are equipped with this knowledge prior to commencing work and are able to approach Martu with no pre-

290 conceptions based on work with other Indigenous groups. Each Indigenous dialect group is a unique entity with their own cultural and historical differences so that all approaches have to be underpinned by an understanding of local realities. Before working in a particular area or with a particular group, workers and agencies need to have a thorough understanding Indigenous worldviews, knowledge systems, culture, and ways of working.

In addition, they need to develop a comprehensive knowledge of the local Indigenous worldview, culture, and an understanding of local definitions of key concepts. I suggest that this needs to be achieved through the formal documentation of the pre-European culture of the Martu in Wiluna and the post contact history. (This is necessary for each

Indigenous dialect group living in the Meekatharra Department of Child Protection’s region) This should include the family tree and history of each family group in the area.

This should be a joint undertaking with the Aboriginal people of the area and should be a very constructive relationship building exercise. The resulting document should then be used as a resource document for anyone working with the Martu. It is essential knowledge for anyone who is to work with the Martu in a positive developmental sense. Caution should be exercised in simply using this information in a forensic manner in child protection investigations. This knowledge is a tool to aid in building positive relationships.

The next general area is establishing and maintaining relationships with the Martu. This requirement applies equally to the Department for Child Protection and its staff in

Meekatharra. The agency and their staff need to establish a relationship with local

Indigenous people and organisations so that they are locally recognised and relevant. This relationship has to be based on trust, on reconciling the role of the agency in the local colonisation of the Indigenous group, recognising the impacts of colonisation, and honest human interaction. (as opposed to styles of bureaucratic impersonal interaction) Any new

291 DCP worker (including Managers) with a responsibility for Wiluna should be taken around

Wiluna and formally introduced to all family groups and Aboriginal organisations so that people know who they are, where they are from, who their family is, their role and how long they intend to stay. Relationships should be nurtured through regular gatherings over a meal (BBQs are very successful) convened by DCP. Once the relationships are established, they need to be maintained so the Martu get to know more about the worker. I observed that Martu will approach a person they know and trust, formally and informally, when they need assistance even though that person does not have a direct involvement or skills in the particular area. If the DCP officer has strong trusting relationships with the

Martu then they are going to be able to work with families in the difficult cases of child maltreatment. These observations are based on the work of an Indigenous DCP worker in

Wiluna who took the time to establish relationships and build trust with people in the community. They were able to locate themselves as a worker, as a parent, as a member of an Aboriginal family group, and as a trusted person, (they did what they promised to do).

They developed relationships with Martu and their agencies before commencing the child protection work. The worker’s closeness did not inhibit their effectiveness, rather it enabled the worker to engage in the discussion of complex and sensitive issues simply because they had a relationship with people based on trust.

The next area of general implication of Martu ways of working is the requirement for self and agency awareness. Both DCP locally and regionally and their workers need to have an understanding of their own culture, its assumptions, the local post colonial history of the agency and the likely impact of these on the Indigenous group. This self knowledge is critical in ensuring that White or non-Martu beliefs and values are not consciously or unconsciously being imposed on the Martu and their children. I certainly did not have

292 sufficient professional maturity when I worked in Meekatharra to critically evaluate my social work training and the underlying assumptions, and the agency’s policies. Also there was no one who could guide or lead or mentor me in my work with the Martu.

The final general implication of Martu ways of working is that both DCP and their workers need to engage with the Martu, their family groups, and their agencies in a respectful manner that recognises and acknowledges Indigenous community control, the need for meaningful positive partnerships, and that DCP is locally accountable. The Martu focus is local and on the Central Desert. It is a different and opposing focus to that of DCP.

Policies and practices do need to be modified for the local context and implemented in a manner consistent with Martu culture and ways of working. It is a sign of maturity of an agency and a worker when they are able to work respectfully with local people and develop local responses to agreed areas of concern. This was contrary to the way DCP was perceived by Ngangganawili. The comments by Ngangganawili staff made during the research field work indicated that DCP and its workers (with one or two exceptions) were perceived as, lacking any understanding of Martu ways of working, being unreliable in that they did not visit on the days promised, being distant and arrogant in that there were many years of broken promises that the local DCP office would be repaired and staffed, and that they provided no real assistance to the Martu. Further, my own experience with the DCP office in Meekatharra was negative.

The specific implications of Martu child rearing beliefs, practices and values for the

Department of Child Protection and the social worker’s it employs are linked to these more general implications. As can be seen from the preceding chapters, there are obvious strengths in the way Martu families cared for their own Walta’s children and in some cases

293 those of other Walta. Because there was no attempt to build relationships with the Martu and then to understand the Martu ways of caring for their children and responding to child maltreatment DCP and the social workers did not know this important information, did not know how to work with the Martu, were not trusted, and were only involved as a last resort.

The institutional or systemic neglect of Wiluna and the Martu meant that they were able to develop their own strategies to deal with child maltreatment in the void of services. Their actions were documented in Chapter 5 however, there was no evidence that DCP and its workers knew about the extended Martu Walta care and the Martu problem solving process. They were then unable to work with the Martu with these local Indigenous strategies to address child maltreatment.

It is clear that the way Martu Tjitji are brought up by their Walta within the Martu domain where they are free to explore their environment, their kin relationships and life in Wiluna in a manner that is self directed and mostly autonomous, is not well understood by many non-Indigenous people. This system of child rearing is a strength that can be built on rather than pathologised. Again, the social worker needs to have the knowledge of Martu ways and the relationships in order to work with these systems.

Whilst, I can go through each aspect of Martu child rearing and indicate the implications for DCP and its social workers working in Wiluna, it would only serve to return in each example to the essence of the research outcomes. That is, the key is the knowledge and skills of the worker in working with the Martu and the trusting and respectful relationship between Martu on one hand and the social worker and DCP on the other. If the time is

294 taken by the worker and DCP to invest in learning about Martu worldview, values, and child rearing practices (in this example) and to then build relationships then there is a real opportunity to assist Martu to deal with the challenges of life in Wiluna. For example, I do not see any conflict between the Martu value of child safety and wellbeing being provided by a strong Walta and that of DCP’s policy of placing the child’s interests in front of their family. It is in the Martu child’s best interests to remain within or near to their Walta, in their Ngurra and be cared for in a manner consistent with their Tjukurrpa. These are essential elements of their Martu self that can only be provided by a Martu context.

Removal from that context is, in my view and that of the Martu, not in the best interests of the Martu child. As noted there is a crisis in the system of holding or Kanyini because there are insufficient adults who are able to hold the growing number of Martu children.

Therefore, Martu children who are subject to maltreatment have to be placed by their family or DCP outside their Ngurra and their close Walta. The challenge for the Martu and

DCP is to work with each other to develop ways to extend and support Kanyini and the

Martu extended Walta care in Wiluna. These are existing and viable systems of care that are under pressure from the effects of colonisation and the introduced problems of alcohol and drugs. With support and much hard work, I think these systems can provide Martu and

DCP with local solutions to the increasing breakdown in Martu families. In saying this, the focus on DCP and its workers, then returns to the need to invest in building social, cultural and physical resources in Wiluna. Time has to be taken to build strong relationships with the Martu. As will be seen in the concluding chapter the Martu and other agencies have shown a willingness to develop the relationships and to invest in developing partnerships, which can address local issues of concern to the Martu.

295 296

Chapter Seven Conclusion - Wantjawaka (which way)?

Introduction

The last chapter of the thesis deals with the question Wantjawaka or which way, or where to now. In answering this question, I first refer to Martu concerns for themselves and their town, when the research project started in early 2006. I then re-visit these issues at the end of research field work in December 2007 which provides some clear answers to the question. The way Martu and their organisations have been able to take charge of many issues in this period gives a clear indication of the Martu view of ‘where to next’ and the importance of their involvement and management in the future.

This chapter also provides an opportunity to reflect on a number of key aspects of the research, the Njanji story, the history of colonisation of the Martu, and stories about Martu child rearing. In doing so, I focus on what has been learnt from the research with the

Martu, whether the aim of the research has been met, the process of giving meaning to

Martu stories and the limitations of the research. Finally, I consider what I have learnt from the research and the Martu successes in the last two years to examine how the child welfare system could improve service delivery to the Martu in Wiluna.

297 Wantjawaka – Which Way?

I visited Wiluna for the last time in December 2007 to ‘report back’ on the research findings to the senior women and Ngangganawili, and to check the accuracy of my conclusions. This provided a surprising opportunity to step back from the research and to see the positive changes that had been made by Martu and their organisations on the issues they were concerned about in early 2006. The progress on these issues was due in a large part to the strength and drive of the Martu Shire Councillors and the Council staff, and the

Martu Committee and the staff of the Ngangganawili Aboriginal Health Service. Of importance is that both organisations were working to priorities established by the Martu, both operate under Martu control in a manner that is consistent with Martu Law and culture, both are locally based, and both are accountable to the Martu people of Wiluna.

The only area of concern that had not improved was the service provided by the

Department for Child Protection.

During my first visit to Wiluna in March 2006, Martu talked to me about their general concerns for their town and their future. These concerns were outlined in the many conversations I had with people as I moved around the town introducing the research and myself. As I was in the process of building relationships with the Martu and had not commenced the research process I did not include these conversations in the information collected for the research. However, I reflected on these issues during my last visit because there had been a positive change in Martu attitudes and other significant changes in the town since early 2006. The following outlines the issues of concern for the Martu in early

2006 and the action that had been taken by Martu and their organisations since then.

298

Suicide

In early 2006, the staff of Ngangganawili were monitoring young men who were seen as a suicide risk, in response to a suicide in late 2005. There were no suicide attempts until

December 2007. At that time, a senior Martu man took his own life, allegedly because of a report to the police that he had been sexually abusing his teenage ‘foster’ daughter. The tragic event had caused a great deal of pain and conflict within his and his wife’s Walta and this spread and involved the whole town. The conflict showed the fragility of relationships within and between Martu families. The shock of the suicide caused threatened and actual violence between the man’s family and that of his wife that extended to Kalgoorlie and

Perth.

The whole event and the repercussions had the potential, according to Ngangganawili CEO, to descend into significant interfamily violence in Wiluna. The management of this tension was focussed on Ngangganawili committee and staff and utilised the traditional strategies to avoid actual conflict. This involved families, connected to both sides but sufficiently independent, mediating between and supporting the family members immediately affected by the suicide. At times this strategy failed and the police and the school worked closely with Ngangganawili to prevent violence from occurring by preventing members of each family from coming together. The willingness of the police and the school to work with

Ngangganawili and the Martu reflected the partnerships that had matured in the preceding two years. In contrast, contrary to organisational and Martu expectation, no DCP staff were involved in the allegation of child sexual abuse, or assisting with any aspect of this serious community conflict.

299

Wiluna Remote Area School

As previously described, in March 2006 a group of Martu parents, Wiluna Shire

Councillors and other Wiluna residents decided that all their attempts to have the school moved had failed and decided to use the visit of the Governor General to highlight the problems. The plan worked very well, funding was provided, and a new school was opened two weeks before the end of 2007 school year. It stands in stark contrast to the old school in its location away from the Hotel and the sewage pond, in its innovative design and in the quality of the buildings. The impact of the new school is seen through the application of the test of school attendance remembering the old school had an average attendance rate of

20%. Usually the end of the school year is a time when there are very few students at school, but the new school had attracted previously poor attenders or non-attenders. The number of students attending school increased much to the surprise of parents and teachers.

Whilst this improvement may be due to the newness of the school, it was welcomed by all as a sign that the efforts to get a new school were very worthwhile.

Adult Education Centre

An adult education centre has been built as part of the school complex and its operation has been conceived as an opportunity to get both parents and children taking advantage of education opportunities at the same time. Previously there was no adult education facility in the town. It will assist people to build their skills and find employment on the various mine sites.

300 Housing

The Wiluna Shire Council had recognised the need for more houses in Wiluna and had been lobbying the State Government for a number of years. They were successful and at the end of 2007, there were ten new houses nearing completion. The families who have been allocated the new houses were excited about moving away from substandard overcrowded housing.

Wiluna Shire Council

The concern about the Shire Council in early 2006 was the ability of Martu as the majority in Wiluna to control the Council. The 2007 Shire elections were held at the end of the year.

Those Martu councillors who stood for re-election were successful. The vacant positions on council were filled by Martu candidates. Importantly, the Shire Presidency shifted from the wife of the publican of Wiluna Club Hotel to a senior Martu man. As a result, the

Council continues to reflect the Martu majority in the town and they are committed to improving the living conditions in Wiluna. After their success in attracting funding for new houses in the town, they said that their next project is to address alcohol abuse in the town.

They commenced immediately with the new President and a Martu woman councillor travelling to Perth to meet with Ministers and Heads of Departments including the

Commissioner of Police.

301 Tjukurrpa Art Gallery

The Tjukurrpa Gallery was started by the Wiluna Shire Council with the aim of encouraging Wiluna Martu to paint, as a cultural activity in terms of each artists ‘painting their country’, as an income stream, and to promote Martu pride. It started in late 2005 and the gallery had to borrow paintings from the Ngaanyatjarra Council’s gallery in Warburton for the opening. In October 2007, some two years later, the Martu artists filled a gallery in

Geraldton with their art. A significant group of artists in Wiluna now paint regularly and a small group participated in an exiting project to paint the Canning Stock Route with other

Indigenous artists from Jigalong, Punmu, Newman, and Balgo.

Ngangganawili Health and Medical Service

Ngangganawili continues to grow in response to their lobbying of government agencies that the Shire needs increased health and medical services. Significant funding has been allocated for their new clinic and administration building. It will be built near the new school in the Shire precinct taking the focus away from the Hotel area in the town. It will replace the old asbestos building, which was originally a single nurse post. They have also received new funding for mental health and alcohol and drug services.

Department for Child Protection

DCP is still viewed by the Martu as a punitive agency with a responsibility for forcing families to care for the children. The services provided by DCP are not viewed by the

Martu as being helpful simply because the agency and its staff do not have a relationship

302 with the Martu or its organisations. DCP are unable to attract and retain people with the culturally appropriate skills to work in areas like Wiluna. They were not able to retain the services of an Indigenous child protection worker who (according to Ngangganawili) was very good at her work and well respected by the Martu. As a result, Ngangganawili said the DCP service at the end of 2007 has returned to the early 2006 unreliable, culturally unsafe service.

Community Feeling

The feeling amongst the Martu residents in Wiluna when I first visited in March 2006 was one of resigned resentment, in that they thought that nothing was going to change for the better in the town. At that time, their community organisation that had operated a general store, the women’s centre, and CDEP office had been declared bankrupt and closed. Soon after two houses burnt down and there was a spate of deaths in the town. The assets of the corporation were then sold in 2007 at auction to pay outstanding debts. Martu blamed this situation on the lack of support from government agencies.

In contrast, the feeling in the town at the end of 2007 was hopeful and positive. People had decided to do something about the school and had succeeded. The new houses were no longer a promise. There is a sense that Martu feel that they are not being neglected any more and that government will now take them seriously. Much has been achieved in the town by the Martu with in partnership with the staff at Ngangganawili, the Shire, the Police

Service, and the School, without them having to trade off or lose any of their culture and beliefs.

303 These successes achieved in less than two years, confirms the understandings reached by this research. If priorities are established by the Martu, if initiatives and programs operate under Martu control and management in a manner that is consistent with Martu Law and culture, if they are locally based and are accountable to the Martu people of Wiluna, then there is a high likelihood that they will achieve their aim. Programs and services that continue to ignore the strength and diversity of Indigenous groups such as the Martu, fail to establish close working relationships with local Indigenous groups, ignore local Indigenous priorities, and fail to understand local Indigenous history and culture, will continue to fail to meet the needs of Indigenous people.

This outcome has direct implications for the way the child welfare system works with

Martu especially on children’s issues. Both the school and the police have shown that they are able to work cooperatively with the local Martu controlled organisations of

Ngangganawili and the Shire, on issues of concern to the Martu. The difference between these agencies and the other parts of the child welfare system is that they have local representatives who are based in Wiluna. The other agencies only visit on an irregular basis because Wiluna is the end of the line for all. Whilst there is still much to be achieved in terms of customising the services of child welfare agencies to the context of the Martu in

Wiluna, there has been positive progress that has been welcomed by the Martu.

Reflections

In reflecting on this research process, it is important to remember that I did not play a role in any of these positive changes. I was simply a White outsider in the White domain, who

304 observed these changes occurring in the contested domain in Wiluna. The motivation for these changes came from the Martu and they were facilitated by their organisations. This process of reflection provides an opportunity to review the research journey of documenting then considering the implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system. The question of ‘which way’ relates to the lessons learnt from the examination of the implications for the child welfare system. It assumes that the agencies that have an impact on life for Martu Walta and Tjitji, such as health, housing, child protection, police, and education, that are part of the broadly defined child welfare system, can improve the way they work in Wiluna.

Throughout this thesis, the Njanji family story grounds the research in the reality of the impact of dispossession and dislocation on a particular Martu family. The negative impact of the dispossession continues to spread across generations and the ‘welfare’, the agency in the vanguard of the colonisation continues to have a significant involvement with the family. Their story provides a clear Martu focus on the implications for Indigenous people when government agencies operate in a manner that ignores Martu Law and culture.

It is only now at the end of the research process that I have come to see the Indigenous people living in Wiluna as being refugees. By the term refugee, I mean Indigenous people who have been forced, by the processes of colonisation, away from their Tjukurrpa Ngurra and who are now unable to return. The Njanji family are clearly refugees. The stories of those Martu whose path to Wiluna, from their Ngurra was via pastoral stations are also refugees. Other Indigenous people like the Kimberley drovers who were left with no way to return to their Ngurra after travelling down the Canning Stock Route are also refugees.

Wiluna like many other towns and settlements around the desert has become a refugee

305 centre. All the Indigenous residents of Wiluna have historical links to the town. The term refugee suggests a level of violence, actual in the case of the Martu and implied in the way

Indigenous people were forced off stations. The implication of the status of refugees needs to be fully explored with the Martu because it suggests that the Martu have experienced what non-Indigenous people would call trauma.

After the violence of their removal from the desert, Davenport et al (2005:167) suggests that a “cloak of invisibility” was drawn around the Martu, which ensured that they were neglected by government. This neglect extended to Wiluna, and is still an issue for the

Martu. The inadequate and culturally inappropriate services provided by government to the town of Wiluna ensures that life for the Martu in Wiluna is characterised by poverty, ill health, alcohol and drug abuse, high levels of family violence, low levels of employment and low levels of educational achievement. As previously stated the Department of

Indigenous Affairs (2004:19) report on Wiluna concludes:

…. the welfare system ... is not working [in Wiluna].

However, the space created by the neglect and the absence of government intervention has provided the opportunity for Martu to build on their cultural strengths and respond to their own needs from within the framework of their domain. Ngangganawili is an example of this innovation that has emerged from within the Martu domain. It was started over thirteen years ago in response to the absence of health services in the town. The extended

Walta care provided by some Martu families is another example of the Martu drawing on the strengths and structures within their domain.

306 This is not to say that the Martu have been able to address all their problems. The issues associated with alcohol and drugs and the accompanying family violence have not been able to be addressed from within the Martu domain. These continue to be problems that have been introduced into Martu life and they need assistance from outside their domain to deal with these issues. The successes of the Martu and their organisations in the last two years indicate that with the right supports and partnerships that these problems in time will be addressed. If these Martu efforts are supported by increased culturally appropriate government services then the solutions will come sooner.

The aim of the research was to explore my belief that one of the reasons for the continuing poor outcomes for Indigenous people was that State-wide and national programs ignored local Indigenous culture and did not actively involve local Indigenous people in the development of programs for their area. I chose to examine this perception through description of Martu child rearing practices and beliefs. The stories told by the Martu showed that they did have their own way of rearing their children that is based within their

Walta and governed by the prescriptions of their Tjukurrpa. It was through the examination of the implications of Martu child rearing for the child welfare system that the research showed that these Martu strengths had been ignored and problemised by the child welfare system. Since their colonisation, the Martu have been neglected by government agencies whose services have been absent or inadequate. The assumption of the superiority of White culture has meant that government services and programs are simply not designed for the Martu and their remote town. Therefore, they are ineffective in meeting the needs of Martu people evidenced by the economic, academic, and material poverty of their life in

Wiluna. Yet in comparison, the Martu stories show that there is a richness of life in the

Martu domain.

307

This research commenced with a specific focus on Martu child rearing and it ends with a much broader perspective that is informed by Brayboy’s theoretical approach of TribalCrit.

His focus on historical and contemporary colonisation of Indigenous peoples enabled the research to move beyond the examination of Martu child rearing and the implications for the child welfare system to the analysis of the reasons why the child welfare system denies the differences of Martu Law and culture in Wiluna. The view is broadened to include the historical and contemporary role of these agencies in the dispossession and neglect of the

Martu; the impact of this colonisation on Martu, their Law and culture; and now the implication for these child welfare agencies of the ongoing colonisation of the Martu and the Martu response to this process.

In the end, it does not really matter whether these key government agencies are labelled as the child welfare system or social service system or the welfare system. The focus may be different but same agencies are part of each system, and share the same history of the way they have treated Indigenous people. I chose to focus on Martu child rearing because of the contemporary focus on Indigenous child maltreatment; Indigenous children have been the historical focus of assimilation policies and practices and it was my experience that

Indigenous child rearing beliefs, practices and values were not understood by these agencies.

Evidence of the need for these agencies to change the way they work with groups like the

Martu can be plainly seen in continuing the poor outcomes for the Martu on all indices outside their domain, Martu economic and social poverty, and in the town of Wiluna.

308 Three challenges arise from this research. Firstly, for the Martu to decide how they are going to respond to the assimilation pressures to change their Law and culture. Secondly, for the child welfare agencies to recognise that they are failing Indigenous groups like the

Martu, and that the Martu will not move, that they will not die out, and that they are entitled to culturally appropriate services and programs designed and resourced to meet their needs. The final challenge is for Martu and the government agencies to form partnerships, under Martu direction and management to work on Martu priorities. The examples of the work of the police, and the school, show in the last two years that these are achievable goals.

Meanings of Martu Stories

The difficulties I experienced in understanding and giving meaning to White concepts in the Martu domain, to Martu stories and yarns, and to Martu concepts limited this research.

Had I been able to speak Martujarra, or, had the funding to employ Martu research assistants, or had the time and resources to live in Wiluna long enough to establish close relationships with the Martu the research outcomes are likely to have been quite different.

However, my skills, resources, and time were not the only limitations on the research.

McCoy (2004) addresses the difficulties in ascribing meanings to the stories of Indigenous people in his work on the Indigenous experience of trauma. His work is of importance here for two reasons, the discussion of these difficulties and secondly, his treatment of subject of

Indigenous trauma which is discussed later in this section.

309 Here the subject of trauma is used as an example of the problems that are encountered when using a White concept in the Martu domain. In talking about developing meanings, McCoy

(2004:229) argues, “There are a number of difficulties in simply applying the theoretical construct of trauma to Aboriginal experience and developing a nosology of Aboriginal trauma related illnesses.” McCoy (2004:229) explains that there are differing responses to events that could be described as trauma and warns that;

Any conflation can essentialise Aboriginal trauma, suggesting it is equivalent to

social change and is manifested as a post-colonial or mission syndrome, such as

‘battered wife’, ‘rape’ or ‘concentration camp’ syndromes. Aboriginal experiences

of trauma can be proposed as essentially different from non-Aboriginal experiences.

… Solutions can be proposed which reflect a particular western biomedical

approach to trauma, where a therapeutic model can ignore cultural perspectives

critical to the meanings as well as the healings of traumatic experience. …

Trauma can become reified, a psychic and disembodied, private experience.

In his analysis of trauma, McCoy usefully provides a Kukatja specific explanation of trauma based on their worldview, Law, and culture, and reinforces the message of the need to work with local Indigenous groups, within their definitions of the situation, and on issues of their concern. He also raises a danger of essentialising Indigenous experience; stereotyping Indigenous experience where it’s pathologised; suggesting Western solutions, and depersonalising Indigenous experience. These are all concerns that I felt when I was in the process of developing understandings of the Martu stories. In particular, I had difficulties with the stories associated with a number of key aspects of this thesis.

310 The Njanji family story relied heavily on information from written sources. I had to rely on these, as there are few Martu alive now who knew Njanji or his earlier history. There was also the reluctance by the Martu to talk about stories or issues involving sad memories.

Whilst I have explained this previously, it meant that people would not talk about the impact of Njanji family’s story. When I had developed the story, I checked the accuracy of what I had learnt with the senior women and they confirmed the story, but would not talk about their feelings. This gave rise to the discussion around the experience of events that I would describe as being traumatic.

It is here that the work of McCoy, referred to above, became relevant. Martu were reluctant to discuss events or issues that were painful to them, because I did not have a close enough relationship (as suggested by Johnson), and as a result I was unable to explore issues around trauma with them. The question of whether or how Martu recognise, experience, or consider the issue of trauma to be relevant to their lives is particularly important. The Njanji family story tells of events that I would consider to be traumatic for the members of the family. However, would the Martu respond in the same way? The question around the applicability of and Martu acceptance of the concept of trauma is important to this research. The doctors employed by Ngangganawili suggested that many of the Martu were showing symptoms that they considered to be consistent with the experience of a traumatic event in the past. As said before the Njanji story suggests that the members of the family have experienced a number of traumatic events, which seem to have had tragic consequences for the family. However, if Martu do not have a word for trauma, do not consider trauma to be an issue, do not identify it as a concept, then what is their explanation for the outcomes for the family. Indigenous writers like Judy Atkinson (2002) identify trauma as an Indigenous concept and experience. She talks about transmission of

311 trauma across generations and suggests that there is a need for Indigenous ways of healing that trauma.

McCoy (2004:229) concludes that, “Trauma, in this understanding, is located, neither in mental processes nor manifested in physical ill-health, but in the key relationships that kanyirninpa discloses. The social relationships that bind walytja, ngurra, and tjukurrpa have been wounded and the social Puntu body has embodied these fractures as particular forms of trauma.” In this conclusion McCoy, provides an explanatory model of trauma that is specific to the Kukatja people in the north east Kimberley.

This example of trauma shows that care needs to be taken to not apply concepts such as this to Indigenous people before developing a level of relationship with Indigenous people that allows the concept to be discussed and nothing is done until there is a clear understanding of the Indigenous group’s understanding. Remembering the diversity of Indigenous culture and experience makes it difficult to generalise views or experience between groups. The

SIDS example used previously shows the dangers of not following this approach.

The domain concept is another example of a White concept or description that has been applied to the life of the Martu. I use the concept extensively in this thesis but the difficulty is that this is not a Martu description or label for their place or space where they hold key aspects of their life separate from non-Indigenous people. They did not have a name for this space but I labelled it as domain after Tonkinson. I observed this as Martu behaviour in Wiluna and confirmed with the senior women that Martu keep parts of their culture hidden from non-Martu. However, I was not able to communicate well enough to describe this concept to them and to ascertain whether they agreed with the description.

312 Domain is therefore a White label for an observed characteristic of Martu life that I use to make sense of their colonisation, their life in Wiluna, and how they bring up their children.

I am aware that the use of domain concept carries a similar difficulty to that of the example of the concept of trauma used above; however, it does not carry the same stigmatising characteristics as a diagnosis of trauma.

The difficulties I experienced in recording, understanding, and giving meaning to the Martu stories relate more to the use of English as the main language of conversation, than to the issues of perceptual filtering because of gender and race. The stories told by the Martu are time and context specific and reflect the relationships between the Martu and myself and between the Martu who took part in the various sessions at or outside the HACC centre.

The research process was not perfect but the stories told indicate clearly that they cherish their Tjitji and want a better life for them.

How Should the Child Welfare System Respond to Martu Child Rearing?

As I did not talk about the future with the Martu, I was unable to elicit a Martu vision for the future. Tonkinson in the 2006 Wentworth Lecture suggests the future direction for the

Mardu/Martu can be found in how they choose to use ‘their Law’ and culture in their interactions with dominant White domain. Tonkinson explains that the Mardu in Jigalong have chosen to apply their strengths only within their domain and have not applied these to their life in the contested domain.

313 It is clear from this research that, if Martu choose to use the strength and wisdom of their domain in their interactions with all things relating to the White domain, that they will require a changed response from the White domain. Martu responded to the colonisation of their Ngurra by keeping their Law and culture separate and safe from the assimilationist policies of the White domain. If they are to open their Law and culture to the White domain, the threats of Whiteness embodied in the policies and practices of the child welfare system will have to be removed. The colonising forces of assimilation and neglect will need to be replaced by a process of reconciliation involving compassion, appreciation, and respect.

This conclusion speaks loudly of the ‘power relationships’ between the dominant White culture and the Martu. As we have seen through this research, the position of the Martu is relatively powerless, in regards to the White domain. The chapter on the Martu domain documents the recent changes in their situation in Wiluna where institutions within the

White domain have now chosen to ensure a degree of equity for the Martu through the oversight and monitoring of services provided to the Martu. This change has not come about because of the growth of power of the Martu domain, it has resulted from changes within the White domain that consider the position of Indigenous people in Australia to be unacceptable. The growth of the pro-Indigenous lobby within the White domain has seen effective partnerships develop between Indigenous people and White institutions of power such as political parties, mining companies, and church based groups. In the past, some of these group’s (missions and miners) interests were hostile to those of Indigenous people.

The environment has been created where it seems, from the position of a white outsider, that it is now safer for the Martu to reveal and use their strengths from their domain in

314 partnership with non-Indigenous people and organisations. The Martu will still bear the majority of the risk involved in this venture. The threat for the Martu is still from the child welfare system and the risk is in whether they can respond differently to the Martu. The child welfare system needs to be able to develop relationships with the Martu, develop culturally and historically appropriate policies and practices in conjunction with the Martu, and have the funding and the skilled staff to be able to implement the changed approaches.

There are risks for all the parties in Wiluna of recognising that there is a need to work differently. There are real benefits for all if the ways of working are changed and sincere equal partnerships are developed with the Martu. How then should the Martu and the child welfare system proceed?

The answer to the question of how the Martu and child welfare system could proceed is suggested by Korbin and Coulton (1996:163-76). Their work is used here with the understanding that they are White Americans writing about non-White groups in their country. It is not Indigenous specific or based on the Australian context. However, their research is about assisting non-White groups address the disadvantage that contributes to child maltreatment. They recommend that “Economic, human, and social development must be promoted simultaneously to rebuild the social capital needed to support children and families.”

The efforts to strengthen communities in the Wiluna context are those that deal with the neglect of the Martu by the child welfare system. The aim is to have all the citizenship services delivered in Wiluna in a culturally appropriate manner and at a level to address the significant disadvantage in the town. The other aspect of improving government services to

315 the Martu in Wiluna is the development of child welfare initiatives that do not pathologise but build on Martu culture, worldview and child rearing principles and practices. Korbin and Coulton (1996:163-76) talk about “neighbourhood based initiatives” that builds on

“natural helping networks”. Neighbourhood for Korbin and Coulton has a “geographical, social, and cultural element that is locally defined”. The people living in the area define the boundaries rather than government agencies.

The concept of the neighbourhood approach has direct application to the remote Indigenous desert context of the Martu in Wiluna. The spatial characteristics are very different however; the Martu domain and the surrounding contested domain share the same geographical, social, and cultural elements as a neighbourhood. The ‘neighbourhood’ for the Martu is most accurately defined as Wiluna and its surrounding settlements. It serves to recognise the unique characteristics of a specific area, in this instance Martu culture, language, and history. It moves the focus away from the top down universal Western child welfare approach and focuses in on the Wiluna area.

The analysis of the neighbourhood approach provided by Korbin and Coulton (1996) provides a number of principles for the development of what I would call an Indigenous

Domain approach to community development remembering the Indigenous Domain in this context is not strictly geographically bound. It is related to where you camp, where you live normally, the town where you live and the country you are linked by birth and family ties.

The adaptation of Korbin and Coulton’s (1996) neighbourhood approach to the context of the Martu’s Wiluna recognises the positioning and the source of the concept. It also

316 acknowledges that the suggestion is made by a White researcher about an Indigenous group. As a result the Indigenous domain approach is proposed as an idea that could be explored in partnership with an Indigenous group such as the Martu in order to address the impacts on children and families of historical and contemporary colonisation.

The suggested principles of Indigenous Domain Approach include;

• Economic, human, and social development must be promoted simultaneously to

rebuild the social capital needed to support children and families.

• Walta is the basis of natural helping networks, constituting an important resource

for solving social problems.

• Walta connections are most likely to flourish and contribute to social capital when

individuals are not struggling against the tide of crime, drugs, and danger in their

surroundings. That is improve community safety by addressing alcohol and drug

related violence

• Martu domain is locally defined and has a geographical, social and cultural element.

• Indigenous people will be better understood and thus better served if child welfare

system is in closer proximity and based locally rather than centrally based as has

traditionally been the case.

• The Indigenous domain approach is based on enhanced cultural competence for all

workers with Indigenous people.

• The basis of Indigenous child rearing beliefs, values, and practices is unique and

congruence between the agency and the community will enhance the effectiveness

of services.

317 • Programs aimed at preventing or ameliorating child maltreatment must have at their

very core an understanding of what the Indigenous group being served believe the

problem is and why it has occurred.

The principles of the Indigenous Domain Approach are based on the understandings reached through this research and confirmed by the changes made by Martu in the last two years. These act as a guide for the child welfare system in working with Indigenous groups such as the Martu and perhaps could form the basis for further research in this area.

In closing, it should be remembered that this research is about and specifically relates to the dialect group of Martu who live in Wiluna and the surrounding settlements. Care should be taken in applying the understandings reached by this research to another Indigenous context without a strong relationship with the Indigenous group and a comprehensive knowledge of that context and the people.

Ngangganawili and the Martu made it possible for me to undertake this research. They have given me an opportunity to reflect on my years of work with Indigenous people, to understand that there is still much to learn, and to be comfortable with the uncertainty of not knowing.

It is clear from the research that Indigenous disadvantage will begin to be addressed if those

(workers or an agency) working with Indigenous people do not make or hold assumptions about a particular Indigenous group and acknowledge their racial and gender positioning.

They need to build relationships, learn about local Indigenous culture and post colonisation history, learn about local people’s strengths and their problems, and then involve

318 Indigenous people in identifying and solving their own problems. It is likely to be a slow costly process that needs to be balanced against the human cost of the continuing

Indigenous disadvantage.

319

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Attachment One:

Tindale’s Map of Aboriginal tribal boundaries (1974) - south-west sheet detail

358 Attachment Two:

Tindale’s Map of Aboriginal tribal boundaries (1974) - north-west map detail

359 Attachment Three:

Tindale’s Map of Aboriginal tribal boundaries (1974) - north-west sheet detail

360 Attachment Four:

B3

361

Attachment Five: Town of Wiluna (downloaded from Google Earth on 5 March 2007)

362

Attachment Six: Bondini Reserve (downloaded from Google Earth on 5 March 2007)

363 Attachment Seven: Map of Western Australia

364 Attachment Eight:

Associate Professor Maria Harries M256 Reply to: Trevor Jewell Postgraduate Co-ordinator Social Work 2 Clifton Cres and Social Policy Mt Lawley 6050 School of Social and Cultural Studies The University of Western Australia 35 Stirling Highway, Crawley WA 6009 Phone: 61 8 6488 2993 Facsimile: 61 8 6488 1070 Email: [email protected]

10 January 2006

Mr Richard Whittington Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Post Office Wiluna 6746

Dear Richard

PhD RESEARCH PROJECT - “Development of a Model of Indigenous Child Welfare”

Thankyou very much for agreeing to be a sponsor organisation for the research project ‘Development of an Indigenous Model of Child Welfare’.

We would like to suggest that we aim to commence the research in Wiluna after the end of the school holidays in February - March 2006. This should give everyone time to return from holidays. The exact starting date can be agreed by Trevor and yourself. We are happy to fit in with your and Ngangganawilli AHS’s plans for that time.

If you are happy to proceed as a sponsor of the research the memorandum of understanding between the University and Ngangganawilli concerning this research project is attached for your signature.

Yours sincerely

Assoc. Professor Maria Harries Trevor Jewell Supervisor Researcher

365 Associate Professor Maria Harries M256 Postgraduate Co-ordinator Social Work and Social Policy School of Social and Cultural Studies The University of Western Australia 35 Stirling Highway, Crawley WA 6009 Phone: 61 8 6488 2993 Facsimile: 61 8 6488 1070 Email: [email protected]

MEMORANDUM OF UNDERSTANDING BETWEEN NGANGGANAWILLI ABORIGINAL HEALTH SERVICE ABORIGINAL CORPORATION AND SCHOOL OF SOCIAL AND CULTURAL STUDIES OF THE UNIVERSITY OF WESTERN AUSTRALIA

It is agreed that the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation and the discipline of Social Work and Social Policy School of Social and Cultural Studies of the University of Western Australia will jointly undertake research in the Wiluna region of Western Australia to show that Indigenous people have their own important ways of bringing up children and to cooperate in the development a unique Indigenous model of child welfare.

The research will be undertaken by Mr Trevor Jewell who is a PhD student in the discipline of Social Work and Social Policy. He will be equally responsible to the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation and the University of WA through his PhD supervisors for the conduct of the research in the region.

It is specifically agreed that;

1. The Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation will be able to direct how the researcher works and who they talk to and have input into the final research reports. If Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation has concerns about the content of the research report, that cannot be resolved by the researcher, they will raise their concerns with Dr Maria Harries of the School of Social Work and Social Policy. 2. The role of the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation will be fully acknowledged in all research documents. 3. The Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation and Indigenous people who work with the researcher will be fully briefed on the research and will have a right to withdraw from the research whenever they like and without giving reasons. 4. The researcher will provide training and assistance to those people who work on the project so that local people are able to take an active role in the research.

366 5. The research project will not identify any person who takes part in the project apart from acknowledging (with their permission) their contribution in the final document. 6. The researcher will work with the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation, by meeting with the committee on a regular basis for, planning, reporting progress, reviewing the project and presenting findings. 7. The researcher will present the final research report to the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation prior to finalising the thesis to obtain their comments and consent to present to the examiners. The researcher will provide a copy of the final document to the Corporation. 8. The Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation will provide guidance, support and assistance with the carrying out of the research project. This will include recruiting people to assist with the research. 9. The research will be conducted in an open and honest manner that respects Indigenous culture and practices. 10. The participation by Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation or by any individual in this study does not prejudice any right to compensation, which you may have under statute or common law. 11. If any participant has any complaint regarding the manner, in which this research project is conducted, it may be given to the researcher or, alternatively to the Secretary, Human Research Ethics Committee, Registrar’s Office, University of Western Australia, 35 Stirling Highway, Crawley, WA 6009 (telephone number 6488-3703).

Signed

…………………………………… ……………………………….. (Assoc. Professor Maria Harries - Supervisor)

………………………………. (Trevor Jewell - Researcher)

Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Discipline of Social Work and Social Policy Health Service Aboriginal Corporation

367

Information for Participants in the Research Project “Development of a Model of Indigenous Child Welfare”

The research project “Development of a Model of Indigenous Child Welfare” will be undertaken in partnership with Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation. This project is being undertaken with the cooperation of Indigenous people to show that they have their own important ways of bringing up children. It is hoped to use these ways to develop a unique Indigenous model of child welfare.

The research will involve working with Indigenous people in your region and two other regions of Western Australia so that a range of people are able to talk about their own area’s culture and their experiences with the child welfare system.

This project is being undertaken by a student from the University of Western Australia who has worked with and for Indigenous people for over twenty five years. He has been concerned for some time about how the child welfare system in Western Australia works with Indigenous people.

The research aims to answer the following questions;

1. What are the Indigenous definitions of terms to do with families and child welfare and what is the implication of those Indigenous definitions? 2. What have Indigenous people tried to about their concerns about the welfare of children? 3. What are Indigenous people’s concerns for their children? 4. Is there an Indigenous model of child welfare?

An agreement has been signed with the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation which describes how the research project will be run. The agreement says that;

1. The Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation will be able to direct how the researcher works and who they talk to and have input into the final research reports. If Yorganop Aboriginal Corporation has concerns about the content of the research report, that cannot be resolved by the researcher, they will raise their concerns with Dr Maria Harries of the School of Social Work and Social Policy. 2. The role of the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation will be fully acknowledged in all research documents. 3. The Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation and Indigenous people who work with the researcher will be fully briefed on the research and will have a right to withdraw from the research whenever they like and without giving reasons. 4. The researcher will provide training and assistance to those people who work on the project so that local people are able to take an active role in the research.

368 5. The research project will not identify any person who takes part in the project apart from acknowledging (with their permission) their contribution in the final document. 6. The researcher will work with the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation, by meeting with the committee on a regular basis for, planning, reporting progress, reviewing the project and presenting findings. 7. The researcher will present the final research report to the Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation prior to finalising the thesis to obtain their comments and consent to present to the examiners. 8. The Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation will provide guidance, support and assistance with the carrying out of the research project. This will include recruiting people to assist with the research. 9. The research will be conducted in an open and honest manner that respects Indigenous culture and practices. 10. The participation by Ngangganawilli Aboriginal Health Service Aboriginal Corporation or by any individual in this study does not prejudice any right to compensation, which you may have under statute or common law. 11. If any participant has any complaint regarding the manner, in which this research project is conducted, it may be given to the researcher or, alternatively to the Secretary, Human Research Ethics Committee, Registrar’s Office, University of Western Australia, 35 Stirling Highway, Crawley, WA 6009 (telephone number 6488-3703).

Associate Professor Maria Harries M256 Postgraduate Co-ordinator Social Work and Social Policy School of Social and Cultural Studies The University of Western Australia 35 Stirling Highway, Crawley WA 6009 Phone: 61 8 6488 2993 Facsimile: 61 8 6488 1070 Email: [email protected]

369

Informed Consent Form for Participants in the Research Project “Development of a Model of Indigenous Child Welfare

I have read the information provided and any questions I have asked have been answered to my satisfaction. I agree to participate in this activity, realising that I may withdraw at any time without reason and without prejudice.

I understand that all information provided is treated as strictly confidential and will not be released by the investigator unless required to by law. I have been advised as to what data is being collected, what the purpose is, and what will be done with the data upon completion of the research.

I agree that research data gathered for the study may be published provided my name or other identifying information is not used.

______Participant Date

370