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Friday 7 July 2006, 6 pm ABC1

Broken Borders Part 1

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It is estimated that today 80% of Indigenous Australians live in urban environments. What impact is urbanisation having on Indigenous Australians and what does this mean for the future of Aboriginality.


Transcript of Program

ADEN RIDGWAY: Hello and welcome to Message Stick. I'm Aden Ridgway. This week we'll bring you the first instalment of a fascinating 2-part series. It explores the past and present migration of rural Indigenous Australians to our cities. For many the dilemma has been whether to follow the bright lights of opportunity or to remain in the country with family and community. This story is a timely acknowledgement that cuts to the core of modern Indigenous identity. Hope you enjoy it.

NARRATOR: Getting ahead in life won't be easy for this boy. He was born an Aborigine and this is where he lives. 400 Aborigines live in shacks like these in three camps on the outskirts of Walgett. This camp isn't far from the town's rubbish tip, and it's from the town's rubbish that most of these homes have been built. This isn't only Walgett's Aboriginal problem, it's part of Australia's problem. In this increasingly affluent country so many Aborigines struggle on as fringe dwellers. There are no rates or rent to pay here. Families are usually large with sometimes as many as eight children. Money to support them comes from occasional jobs or social service payments. Some manage for a while on child endowment payments alone. They've been more aware of their restricted status in the town since university students called here two years ago to protest against racial discrimination.

GEORGE ROWE: If they do make the grade at school and get their Leaving, unless they change in Walgett, unless the attitude of the people, the white community, changes, well, they'll never get jobs in offices in Walgett.

REPORTER: Why not, though?

GEORGE ROWE: Well, I don't know whether it's because of the colour of their skin or whether it's just because they don't wanna employ them.

NARRATOR: There's an unwritten law that prohibits all Aborigines from sitting in this lounge, even if they're with a party of white customers. This unwritten law is rarely challenged, but one test case was decided here three months ago when George Rowe sat down at one of these tables.

GEORGE ROWE: My wife and I and a couple of white friends went in there and I ordered a squash for my wife and a beer for myself, and was refused. He said that he could serve the two white persons that were with us but refused to serve Mavis and I.

NARRATOR: A few Aborigines have been allowed to drink in the lounge or the beer garden. This privilege is one rung of the social ladder Aborigines have to climb in Walgett to be acceptable to many of the white population.

MAN: The awkward part of it is they don't come out in the open and do it, they sort of do it undercover. And only the Aboriginals that are a little bit sensitive pick it up, sort of thing, you know? Lot of the Aboriginal people get discriminated against and they don't even notice it's carrying on, don't even know it exists, sort of thing.

REPORTER: How much would you like to be able to drink in the club bar of the Imperial Hotel?

MAN: Well, it's not a matter of wanting to, liking to drink in there, it's only just the principle of it.

NARRATOR: Some are contented enough to stay on the fringe. Some haven't had the opportunity to move. There has been a way out of the humpies into the life most Australians know. Here on one corner of Walgett more than 100 Aborigines live in 14 houses built by the Aborigines' Welfare Board. Most of these houses were built within the past two years. Several of them house families with as many as six children. There are TV sets in two houses out of three.

REPORTER: Are you happy with life as it stands for you now?

MAN: Oh, for me and my wife, yeah, but not for the children.

REPORTER: What would you like to see change for the children?

MAN: I'd like to see a lot of things change for them... see a lot of things open up for them, my children and all other dark people's children, not only mine.

REPORTER: Do you think things will open up for them?

MAN: Oh, well, I think so, in time to come.

REPORTER: Do you think you'll see a solution in your lifetime?

MAN: No. No, definitely not.

REPORTER: How long?

MAN: Oh, perhaps 70, 80 years time there may be none of this. I hope it comes sooner, but I don't expect that it will.

NARRATOR: To be born an Aborigine in Walgett means starting off life with a handicap, and there are many Walgetts in Australia. The opportunities are slowly growing, but the future for many remains dim.

REPORTER: This is Toomelah Village, the settlement on an Aboriginal reserve in northern New South Wales near the Queensland border. Most of the families here are descendants of those who have lived in the area for generations. Employment is almost impossible to find, but because they have lived here all their lives the people are reluctant to move to areas with better opportunities. Some of these children's fathers are employed on the New South Wales or Queensland railways, the rest depend on seasonal farm work. This man, for example, is a gun shearer.

NARRATOR: Ken Carter is two inches taller and three years older than Lionel Rose, but he still looks up to him. The boxer says, "Carter is one of our kind who made good. "We oughta be proud of him." Ken doesn't complain about his job because he knows no other. All he wants out of life, he says, are a few fundamentals.

KEN CARTER: Well, you take it like this, I think it's 12 months or 18 months ago they voted for the 'Aboriginal Rights'...

REPORTER: Yeah. Yeah.

KEN CARTER: ..when they got their rights. Give them anything, serve them in pubs and that. Now they want to bring them into the town. White people don't want them. Don't want them as neighbours. Well, you just can't follow it.

NARRATOR: What angers Ken now is this street. It's settled by whites on one side and the Welfare Board wants to build houses for Aborigines from reserves on the other. Four residents have already travelled to Sydney to protest that pockets of Aboriginal houses like this would encourage segregation rather than integration. If Ken and his family want to move from here then so do 15 other families. Dorothy, do you like living here?

DOROTHY: Oh, no, not out here - hasn't got anything for the children, like.

REPORTER: Nothing at all?


REPORTER: What do you think children should have?

DOROTHY: Well, I think they should have a decent home to live in.

REPORTER: Yeah. What have you got here? Have you got much at all - a bathroom?

DOROTHY: No, we've only got the showers over there, cold showers.

REPORTER: Are you trying to save at all?

DOROTHY: Yes, we keep trying to save, but we can't do much here because we haven't got any of the right cooking things, you know, so we can have the right meals for the children.

REPORTER: What do you want most of all?

DOROTHY: Well, most of all I'd like a nice home for them.

REPORTER: Where would you like your home?

DOROTHY: I don't care, in town somewhere.

REPORTER: Anywhere in town?

DOROTHY: As long as it's a nice home, as long as there's something different from here.

NARRATOR: All the families bar one are waiting for new homes. And in once sense it'll be a pity when this settlement finally does disband. It is a true community, even if criticised by self-contained white families for its benevolence to hangers-on. The families sing, dance, drink, gamble and rarely seem embittered by their oppressive surroundings. One wonders whether the next generation will be so passive.

MAN: After travelling through the night, this train from the depressed area of north-west New South Wales arrives at Sydney's Central Station. Day after day the scene here reflects what Mr Wentworth said when he was minister responsible for Aboriginal Affairs - "The hope of absorbing Aborigines in the rural economy has gone." When this boy got off the train he became part of an unknown quantity. No-one knows how many Aborigines come to Sydney each week, nor how many leave. The only sure point is that more arrive than depart. Nor does anyone know how many Aborigines live in Sydney. Most estimates range from 10,000 to 15,000, that's between a third and a half of all the Aborigines in the state.

REPORTER: These are the streets of Sydney where the Aborigines live. The people who live here form the largest Aboriginal community in Australia. There's no exact estimate of how many of them there are, but they do number about 10,000 and the number is growing daily. They arrive from the country with very little in education, money or skills with which to get a job, and so it's mostly factory or labouring work for them, if any. Most of them come here to the Aboriginal Foundation. They don't know what to expect, few have accommodation ready for them. They are given second-hand clothes, some accommodation found - but it has to be cheap because few can afford more than a few dollars a week.

CHARLES CHICKA DIXON, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1967 [FILE FOOTAGE]: 95% of the Aboriginal migrants - I will refer to them as Aboriginal migrants... virtually lob here in the city with nothing. Nothing at all.

CHARLES CHICKA DIXON, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1967: Better lifestyle for the kids. Better opportunities. They weren't the only ones, lots of blacks were moving in the '40s, '50s, '60s for a better way of life.

REPORTER: Do you prefer city life to country life?

CHARLES CHICKA DIXON, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1967 [FILE FOOTAGE]: Oh, well, there's no question about that. The Aborigine has a better chance in the city, I believe this. Whereby he lives on a mission station or river bank dwelling in these country areas, he cannot get full employment. He is merely an instrument for certain cow cockies, shall I call them?

CHARLES CHICKA DIXON, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1967: More excitement in the city when you're a young person, that was the big thing for young blacks - to leave the mission and come to Sydney. Christ, that was THE thing!

MAN: And what was the excitement? What was it?

CHARLES CHICKA DIXON, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1967: Well, you had dances and a bit of... (Makes kissing noises) ..with the ladies. Oh, no, it was very exciting. Mission life was just the same old thing over and over and over. Go to the movies here, you could play up like a bad mug.

NARRATOR: But whether or not it's a false magnet, the city has drawn more than Mrs Mosely down from Kempsey.

MRS MOSELY: There's quite a few up there, you know, that haven't got work. But, you know... ..they generally all come down to the city.

REPORTER: What's the difficulty?

MRS MOSELY: The bond money, actually, and the rent. Some of the rent's pretty steep. Because when you mention how many kids you've got, you know, they don't like taking them because of the amount of kiddies they've got.

BOB MORGAN, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1969: I suppose the greatest motivation for me to leave Walgett was when the Freedom Riders came through. And Charlie Perkins and other students that were a part of the Freedom Rides really had a major, major impact on my life. I was just fascinated by this world, this experience that these young people from Sydney, students, brought into our community. And I wanted to be like them, I wanted to go and do something. So I convinced my mother that I should be allowed to travel to Sydney. So I caught the train and spent the next 17 or 18 hours without getting off it once, but it was a terribly long trip from Walgett to Sydney. It was a day of great expectation, but it was also a time of sadness because I didn't know what to expect because I was also leaving my family. I only had a bit of money on me and I couldn't carry this suitcase around with me so I actually took my suitcase and I buried it in a park in Mascot. And then I jumped on a bus. And I spent probably about eight hours on this bus, jumping off one bus onto another and just spent the day riding the buses. And then probably around about 10pm or 11pm the bus driver realised there was something wrong and he asked me. He said, you know, "You OK?" And I said, "Look, no, I'm lost. I don't know where I am or what to do." And... ..he actually took me to Central Station Police Station. And I was given a bed at Central Police Station that night.

NARRATOR: Each week some 40 newcomers approach the Foundation for help. Each week the field officer, Bob Morgan, sees dozens of people already known to the Foundation. Bob Morgan made this call mainly to get a few details from these teenage boys - the first step in trying to find work for them. Both of them had been down from the country this time for about a fortnight. Both of them could hope only for unskilled work.

BOB MORGAN, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1969: I think looking back on it, though, that, you know, it was an illusion. The opportunities in Sydney were no greater than what they were in the country. We still had to contend with racism and prejudice and a range of other things. As that show demonstrated, housing was a major problem. And...but people congregated together, lived together, survived together to try to make their world a better place.

REPORTER: How many people would sleep in the same room that you sleep in?

BOY 1: Well, about five of us.

REPORTER: How many beds are there in that room?

BOY 1: Only one.

REPORTER: So you have a bath or a shower every day if you want it?

BOY 2: Yeah, but the gas not on.

REPORTER: The gas isn't on?

BOY 2: No hot water.

BOB MORGAN, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1969: There was a degree of anonymity, I guess, that we experienced in Sydney. You could hide better in a bigger city. And...but you could only hide for so long. Reality soon caught up with you and then you had to face reality and try to deal with it. And, I guess, a lot of people just gravitated to places like Redfern because of the sense of community that was there, that "This is our place," this is the place that was essentially Aboriginal then. It had things that it offered to us in terms of friendships and hope and, you know, sort of an aspiration for a better deal.

NARRATOR: There is a brighter side to the accommodation picture. In Redfern, one of Sydney's poorest suburbs where many Aborigines live, this hostel was opened earlier this year. It's there to provide accommodation for young Aborigines who've come down to the city to work. Commonwealth money has provided two other hostels recently and between the three that means accommodation for 30 boys and 10 girls. Two more hostels are planned for this financial year. However...

BOB MORGAN, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1969 [FILE FOOTAGE]: In the meantime we have this great influx of young people to the city and we have to try and accommodate them. Occasionally, we had to send people back home to where they came from because we couldn't get accommodation for them.

REPORTER: What happens to those who don't get work and who stay here? Do they start to slide down the ladder?

BOB MORGAN, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1969 [FILE FOOTAGE]: Oh, yes, they do. They drop down, right to the bottom rung they go. Round the hotels and sleep around the parks and deserted houses. So difficult.

NARRATOR: Noel Appo sees another major problem for young Aborigines in Sydney - the lack of social life, which he accuses of encouraging a drift into heavy drinking. Each Sunday night, the Foundation opens its doors for this get-together.

REPORTER: Allan, can you tell me how long you've been in Sydney?

ALLAN: Since last Thursday.

REPORTER: Last Thursday?

ALLAN: Yeah.

REPORTER: Where did you come from?

ALLAN: Kempsey.

REPORTER: How did you come down to Sydney?

ALLAN: Well...hitchhike.

REPORTER: How long did that take?

ALLAN: Well, I started Thursday night, I didn't get a ride, so I got a ride Friday morning.

REPORTER: How long have you been in Sydney?

GIRL: For a week.

REPORTER: For a week? And where did you come from?

GIRL: Queensland, Cherbourg.

REPORTER: And how did you get down here?

GIRL: Hitchhiked.

MAN: Tell me about how you ended up moving to Sydney?

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973: I met a sheila from down there! I met a girl, beautiful girl, from down there. My beautiful wife, I met my beautiful wife, from Sydney - from Redfern, actually - and... ..I fell in love. And that's how I was in Sydney.

MAN: And what did you think of Sydney when you got there?

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973: Well, I was a little bit scared of it because I didn't know anybody but her and a couple of her brothers and sisters around the place. And it was pretty terrifying at first, but then I got used to it, started working in it.

NARRATOR: Dick Blair, who works in Redfern at the Aboriginal Legal Service, and Colin James, an architect, walked through the Chippendale block today. James wanted to see whether it was possible to restore the houses. Dick Blair's plan includes accommodation for families, single people, and young transients new to the city who he knows won't be able to settle down. But still he believes in a self-sufficient community, even growing its own vegetables in the middle of Redfern. Dick, do you really think...? Now, what you've talked about as you looked at that block's been very idealistic - your own preschools, your own vegetable gardens, your own police force.

REPORTER: Can you do it?


REPORTER: Can anybody do it?

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973: Well, I don't know. Look, black people are born to be together. We've had to be together. We were put together. Now, we've sort of grown into a system that's sort of foreign to us, actually, you know? The white system is foreign to us. We've created something of our own, sort of sharing, you know. Nobody goes without in the black community.

MAN: Where did that dream come from that you were talking about all those years ago? Where did you get those ideas from?


MAN: Tell me about that.

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973: That heart stuff, man, that's what I wanted for the Aborigine people. Their own situation, their own circumstances in which they can gather and not be pushed around by the system itself. But be able to have people in there that understood the system and be able to apply the Aboriginal way in the system.

WOMAN IN FILE FOOTAGE: This is our kiddies that our suffering at the moment! No black kiddies are suffering here at the moment!

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973 [FILE FOOTAGE]: Look, our black kiddies are suffering all over Australia today and youse never worried about that. Now you're worried about a little block here which we're trying to improve, but you're not giving us a chance!

WOMAN IN FILE FOOTAGE: Is this the way you improve it?

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973 [FILE FOOTAGE]: No, it's not the way we improve it!

WOMAN IN FILE FOOTAGE: Get all those prostitutes and everything in?

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973 [FILE FOOTAGE]: No, we're not trying to improve it that way. You're not giving us a chance.

WOMAN IN FILE FOOTAGE: You're not giving us a chance, you're giving us a very bad taste in the mouth.

WOMAN: Look, if you can get the ones out that are here at the moment then we'll think about it.

REPORTER: What's the main complaint of the white residents in this area?

WOMAN IN FILE FOOTAGE: Well, the main complaint of the white residents in the area is the no-hopers they've brought into the area.

REPORTER: Are they only black?

WOMAN IN FILE FOOTAGE: No, there's some white with them, and they're prostitutes, alcoholics - we see them go up and buy the methylated spirits - and no-hopers. And they're making our life a hell here. My husband had to go up with me at eight o'clock the other night to buy two bottles of milk. I was too frightened to go up by myself. And he took a knife up with him, now, that's how frightened we are.

MAN IN FILE FOOTAGE: We're not safe to walk out of the house. We can't walk out unless we give them two shillings or a cigarette, even taken out of your mouth. You can't let your women out of a night-time. So therefore I say no, not an Aboriginal development. Put one family here, put another family somewhere else. Put them anywhere you like, there, as long as you spread them around.

REPORTER: Some white residents in the area claim that they can't leave their houses because they feel threatened.

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973 [FILE FOOTAGE]: Well, I think as far as the black people are concerned they've been threatened all their life for the last 200 years. It's just a matter of, I don't know, just a matter of being scared of black people - why I don't know. You know, they just don't want to understand us.

DICK BLAIR, ABORIGINAL HOUSING CO, REDFERN, 1973: It was really... ..hard to make them understand us. And I really don't know why they couldn't understand that the Aborigine people wanted houses. Maybe they thought that we were still in the dark, in the old ganya days. And, you know, they just weren't listening.

BOB MORGAN, FOUNDATION FOR ABORIGINAL AFFAIRS, 1969: Being Aboriginal in Sydney at that time was another set of challenges. It was great, it was a great time to be alive and to be involved. The old Foundation for Aboriginal Affairs was operating at its fullest. And there were a lot of great opportunities around that were starting to stem from the old FCAATSI days and the political struggles that went on. It was also a period just after the '67 referendum. So that meant there was a new sense of hope and anticipation amongst Aboriginal people.

NARRATOR: At the Clifton Hotel in Redfern, as at many other places around Australia, there seems to be a new spirit among many Aborigines. A new determination that their people aren't going to stay at the bottom of the social ladder, that the open discrimination they meet in so many ways will be dealt with. Today, more and more Aborigines are being concentrated in the cities and the Aboriginal problem is being concentrated with them. It is perhaps worth noting that the Aboriginal population will double within 20 years.

ADEN RIDGWAY: Hope you enjoyed part one of 'Broken Borders'. Join me next week for part two as we delve deeper into the intriguing issues surrounding Indigenous migration and what it means to cultural identity. See you then.