My mum, then an 18 year old girl, went to Badjaling in 1930 to be the housemaid for two Irish missionaries, Mary Belshaw and May McRidge. The mission house where she lived for two years was a disused railway cottage, and the bough shades that had previously been used for school and church had been replaced by a building made from flattened kerosene tins and wheat sacks sewn together. The Noongar people lived in humpies.
Dad went to Badjaling in 1938, a young 21 year old with no high school experience. Within days he was left in charge of the mission and running a school of 38 Noongar children. Having come to Australia at the age of 12 to live at Fairbridge Farm School, Badjaling was the only home he had, so when he was called up to join the army (this is the Anzac Day connection!), that was where he went every time he had leave. In 1944 he was manpowered out of the army and was transferred to a mission in Gnowangerup. The following year he was married, and he and mum were transferred back to Badjaling as a married couple.
This week we met some of the schoolchildren in Dad’s school, now elders in their community, and it was a great privilege to be shown around their home. We saw the well that was the only source of water for all Badjaling residents, and the site of the hospital that was set up because Noongars were not allowed into the hospital in town. This became the birthplace of many infants who have become known as the “bush babies”.
I had a strong sense of connection with the people of Badjaling community, but with it a sense of sadness that their parents had not been considered worthy to have their babies in government hospitals, and these proud elders were once in fear of being snatched away from their parents.
I'll tell you more about the great pilgrimage later.
Thanks for sharing this story. Our history is sad, but it's important to understand so that we can heal together and have more love for each other.
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