I woke up to the sound of the gentle laughter of the kookaburra and the golden sun shining upon my face through my bedroom window. I could hear my younger brother laughing and the smell of warm damper and golden syrup on the table. I tied my long brown hair into a messy plait and looked at myself in the mirror. My dark brown skin was glowing in the morning sun and my eyes were like pools of honey, dark and mysterious but beautiful in the sunlight. I couldn't help but think about how lucky I was until I was interrupted by my younger brother Dacuh calling me for breakfast.
We ate breakfast together and told the story of the Gulaga. We got ready for school and said our goodbyes to our parents before making our way through the bush.
It was a short 15 minute walk through the bush to school and like always Dacuh and I walked together, smelling the eucalyptus leaves and scaring each other with stories of the Dreamtime. Dacuh loves to tell the story of the Manji, a white creature who stole Aboriginal children who were naughty. I laughed as I always did to show him I didn't believe it.
CITEȘTI
The Stolen Generation
Ficțiune istoricăA short story about a young girl named Yindi and her story of her time in Cootamundras Girl Home. This story is based off the stolen generation in Australian and Aboriginal history where indigenous children where taken from their homes and trained...
