Aboriginal children were taken from their families.
Children were relocated to be educated for a useful life as a farmhand or domestic servant. The government built harsh remand homes where Dickensian conditions were the norm. The children, many as young as three, shared prison-like dormitories with barred windows. Thin blankets gave little protection against the chill nights and the food was basic. These grim educational centres, or ‘native settlements’, were often many hundreds of miles from the place the children called home. Any children caught escaping would have their heads shaved, be beaten with a strap and sent for a spell in solitary confinement.
The food in the workhouse-like ‘native settlements’ was no better than gruel. The children had few clothes and no shoes.
Molly Craig, 14, her half-sister Daisy Kadibil, 11 and their cousin Gracie Fields, 8, arrived at the Moore River Settlement north of Perth in August 1931. They had been taken from their family in Jiggalong nearly 1,600 km (1,000 miles) away and they immediately decided to return home no matter what the consequences. Their plan was simple: they would follow the rabbit-proof fence.
Walking home
The girls only had two simple dresses and two pairs of calico bloomers each. Their feet were shoeless. The only food they had was a little bread. Nevertheless, on only their second day in the settlement they hid in the dormitory and then, when no one was looking, they simply walked out into the bush. It held far fewer terrors for them than the settlement.
The girls route following the rabbit-proof fence.
The fence itself was several days’ walk away. Once they reached it they would then have several more weeks of trekking through dusty scrubland before they reached Jiggalong.
But the girls were confident that they could live off the land. Their biggest fear was getting caught by the inevitable search parties; all previous escapees had been found by Aboriginal trackers. To outfox them they would have to hide well and move fast: Molly set them a goal of covering 32 km (20 miles) a day.
‘We followed that fence, that rabbit-proof fence, all the way home from the settlement to Jiggalong. Long way, alright. We stayed in the bush hiding there for a long time.’
They made good progress at first. They hid in a rabbit warren and managed to catch, cook and eat a couple of the creatures. The weather was wet, giving them water and removing their footprints. They met two Aboriginals who gave them food and matches.
Often, when they came upon a farmhouse they simply walked up to the door and asked for help. Despite the news of their escape being widely publicised, none of the white farmers turned them in. Some gave them food and warmer clothes.
The police were on their trail, now genuinely concerned for the girls’ welfare as well as eager to return them to Moore River.
But by the third week in September the strain of life in the bush was beginning to show. Gracie, the youngest, was exhausted and the other two often had to carry her. Her legs had been slashed by thorny underbrush and become infected. After hearing from an Aboriginal woman they met that her mother had moved to nearby Wiluna, she crept aboard a train to travel there.
Molly and Daisy kept walking towards Jiggalong. They could now move faster without their younger cousin to support, but it was still brutally hard going. The rains had gone, as summer crept up on them. Every day it got hotter yet every day they were determined to cover more ground to get home quicker.
At last, in early October, the two dusty, bedraggled girls walked into Jiggalong. They had trekked for more than 1,600 km (1,000 miles) through some of the most unforgiving terrain on Earth. They were still wanted by the authorities.
But now they were home.
The story wasn’t over
The families of both girls swiftly moved house to stop the authorities taking their girls again. But, perhaps aware of what a powerful tale the girls had to tell, the government called off the chase a few weeks later.
However, although the girls’ escape is a triumphant display of endurance and indomitable human spirit, their journey didn’t bring total happiness. They were still in a land where the law discriminated against them.
Gracie’s mother wasn’t in Wiluna and she was sent back to Moore River. She became a domestic servant and died in 1983.
Molly also became a domestic servant, marrying and having two daughters. But in 1940, after she was taken to Perth with appendicitis, she was sent back to Moore River by a direct government order. Amazingly, she once again walked out of the settlement and trekked back to Jiggalong. Unfortunately, she could only take one of her daughters with her; her 3-year-old girl, Doris remained in the settlement where she was brought up. Doris later wrote the book Rabbit-Proof Fence about her mother’s first journey, which was made into a film in 2002.
Daisy’s story had the happiest outcome. She stayed in the Jiggalong area for the rest of her life, where she became a housekeeper, married and had four daughters.
Survival by Sacrifice
| FOUR YOUNG MOUNTAINEERS WERE TRYING TO CONQUER THE UNCLIMBED PEAK OF HARAMOSH WHEN AN AVALANCHE SWEPT TWO OF THEM OVER A SHEER ICE CLIFF. THE OTHER TWO CLIMBERS WOULD DRIVE THEMSELVES BEYOND THE POINT OF EXHAUSTION AND RISK THEIR LIVES IN A DARING RESCUE ATTEMPT THAT WOULD HAVE TRAGIC AND HEROIC RESULTS. |
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| DATE: 1957 SITUATION: CLIMBING ACCIDENT CONDITION OF CONFINEMENT: STRANDED BY AN AVALANCHE AT 6,400 M (21,000 FT) DURATION OF CONFINEMENT: 2 DAYS MEANS OF ESCAPE: CLIMBING TO SAFETY, RESCUE AND SACRIFICE BY COLLEAGUES NO. OF ESCAPEES: 2 DANGERS: DEHYDRATION, EXHAUSTION, FALLING TO DEATH, HYPOTHERMIA EQUIPMENT: CLIMBING EQUIPMENT |
The snow-covered peaks of the Karakoram Range, Pakistan.
The height of ambition
It was no wonder that the young students were bursting with enthusiasm for the climb. Several extraordinary recent mountaineering achievements had fired the imaginations of all men who loved the mountains: Tensing and Hillary had climbed Everest just four years previously and the savage K2 had succumbed the year after. It seemed that no peak was beyond the reach of determined and able men.
But the three lads from Oxford University Mountaineering Club took their enthusiasm one step further. They wanted to be the first men to conquer the virgin spire of Haramosh, a towering 7,400 m (24,270 ft) mountain in the Karakoram range of northern Pakistan.
They would pay dearly for their high ambition. They would also display depths of bravery and self-sacrifice that belied their years.
The team finds a leader
The project was the brainchild of 23-year-old Bernard Jillott, a grammar school boy from Huddersfield. With him