MONDAY marks 80 years to the day since the Cummeragunja walk-off.
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Eighty years since more than 200 Aboriginals stood up to decades of abuse and oppression and crossed the Murray River to Barmah to say enough.
For Yorta Yorta Nation Aboriginal Corporation chief executive Monica Morgan, it’s a bittersweet anniversary.
Monica’s family was among those who took part in that mass exodus so many years ago – one which would be a catalyst for improving Aboriginal rights across the country.
And while that is cause for celebration, it’s tinged with sadness.
Because Aboriginal people are, to this day, still fighting to regain their rights.
“Australia hasn’t got a proud history and even today our young people ask what there is to celebrate,” Monica said.
“Yes, there has been progress – but it’s only been through our own blood, sweat and tears.
“There is still lots and lots to do. But we need to galvanise our people, not feel hopeless or depressed. Because it’s through action and working side-by-side with non-indigenous peoples that change happens.
“The Cummeragunja walk-off shows us we have to be our own inspiration and our own liberators. We can’t expect other people to give us the handouts or hand-ups.”
The reserve’s history stretches back to 1881, when Aboriginal people in Echuca were living in conditions Monica described as akin to a “killing field”.
‘‘Women were up for rape and there was no escape – people would even go on hunting parties to murder Aboriginal people,’’ she said.
“Our grandmother Lizzy Atkinson was chained at 14 years of age at a sawmill until she was pregnant. We were on all the street corners in Echuca but were seen as an eyesore.”
Disturbed by the poor conditions Aboriginal people were enduring, local merchant and missionary Daniel Matthews brought them to Maloga Mission, which he established next to Cummeragunja.
“He worked Maloga as a farm, but he didn’t want to show he was actually using the Aboriginal people there as slaves,” Monica said.
“Our mob hungered for our own land, so we put in a petition to the British Crown. We chose to settle in Cummeragunja and in 1888 were fully transferred here.”
The reserve began as a thriving, self-sufficient sanctuary where local Aboriginal people managed their own blocks of land and had a pier where they would load hay, wool and wheat.
But tragically, it didn’t last.
In 1915 the NSW Aboriginal Protection Board extended its omnipresence to take greater direct control of Cummeragunja and its residents.
The farm’s committee of management was disbanded and all funds subsequently raised from the farm went to the board, which then “rewarded” workers by doling out inadequate and unhealthy rations.
By the 1930s, conditions had severely deteriorated.
Cummeragunja was in the grips of station master Arthur McQuiggan, a man reportedly so brutal the protection board initially considered throwing him out of the system — but instead relocated him to Cummeragunja.
“He was abusive, drunk, violent and used to skim off the top of the rations and sell them or use them for himself, so the community were left with the dregs,” Monica said.
“To enter or exit Cummeragunja, you had to have a pass. It was like a prison.
“We were bred to be slaves. Children were only given education until about year 4 and those as young as 10 could be forced to work on stations or in very rich people’s homes. My mother, at 14, was sent out to be a domestic to a station owner in Moonahcullah.”
The people of Cummeragunja felt voiceless – until Australian Aboriginal civil rights activist Jack Patten (who came from Cummeragunja) began breaking the silence.
On January 26, 1938 — the 150th anniversary of the day the British First Fleet sailed into Sydney — he and fellow activist William Ferguson held a day of mourning.
The Cummeragunja people sent a delegation to the gathering and shared about the crushing conditions they were enduring.
“They asked Uncle Jack to come talk to the people. He did, and they had a big meeting of all the residents who wanted to voice their concerns,” Monica said.
“In the midst of it McQuiggan called the police and Uncle Jack was arrested and charged with inciting Aborigines.
“But as he was bundled into a police car, he shouted, ‘Go to it boys, now is your chance to leave!’”
It was a moment of infectious defiance.
And the final straw for the Cummeragunja people.
That day, Jack’s brother George Patten led the residents out of the station, across the Murray River to Barmah.
And this weekend, hundreds will gather to celebrate that walk-off with three days of history, music and dancing.
On Monday, they will retrace their ancestors’ steps, holding a ‘walk-on’ from Barmah back to Cummeragunja.
“These three days are really about celebrating our survival through the whole invasion process and our commitment to each other,” Monica said.
While it’s only 20 years until Cummeragunja will celebrate the walk-off’s centennial, Monica said there’s still a long way to go before her people regain their rights.
“At the moment, the whole of Cummeragunja is leased to non-indigenous people. We don’t have any control over how we use our land or how we want to live,” she said.
“I hope by 2039 this community will be self-sufficient and the people living here will have control over themselves.”
Senior Journalist