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October 18, 2019

Small histories: a road trip reveals local museums stuck in a rut

Berry, and other tourist towns, are out of step with modern museum curation which is trying to include Aboriginal communities and their stories

Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers are advised this article contains images and names of deceased people.

You leave Sydney and head for holidays on the South Coast. You plan to catch a quick surf, check out the boutiques and cafes, stroll around a local museum.

If you鈥檙e stopping in Berry you鈥檒l notice a large steel sculpture in honour of two brothers, Alexander and David Berry. And in the main street you will encounter a bronze bust of Alexander, celebrating his determination to 鈥渞eplace bush and swamp鈥�. The local hospital and a monument near the railway station recognise David. Old two-storey buildings along the main street, big trees and established gardens all add up to a picture of genteel pastoral history.

This polite scene ruptures if we know that Alexander Berry collected and traded in the bones of Aboriginal people, including those he had exhumed from their graves on his vast estate, Coolangatta.

Cultural institutions in our capital cities have begun to pay greater respect to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander communities. The in Sydney states 鈥淭he First Nations collections belong to ancestors, to First Nations people of the present and to the young people of the future鈥�. is 鈥渨orking to place First Peoples living cultures and histories at the core of our practice鈥�.

But away from the cities and 鈥� despite the good intentions of many staff members 鈥� small museums lag behind, presenting tourists with stories that give a narrowed view of local histories.

 

Three towns, the same story

In a regional town museum you will probably encounter some version of the pioneer or settler story. This narrative is illustrated with the many farm tools, pieces of mining equipment, clothes, books, furniture and other domestic and civic artefacts donated by locals over the years.

In this version of history, pioneers move across the land, unencumbered by prior Aboriginal occupants, making it productive as they go. Small museums seem to get stuck in this white pioneer groove.

Historian Amanda Nettelbeck observes that Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal histories are often presented as , rather than as an obviously connected relationship between British settlement and Aboriginal dispossession.

In the museums of Berry, Kangaroo Valley and Nowra, three towns central to the NSW South Coast tourism economy, the idea of a frontier (that space of conflict over land, resources, rights and sovereignty) is avoided. But how is this achieved, when the pioneer story depends on the frontier for its existence?

Looking at these three museums reveals artefacts of Aboriginal provenance are presented in ways that cast them as either relics of a distant past, symbols of a generic Aboriginality or curiosities with no political context. They celebrate the pioneer without acknowledging the founding dispossession of local Yuin people. Frontiers are messy; pioneers clean things up. And museums keep the story simple, neat and tidy.

Too hot to handle

This is not to say the dedicated volunteers who run these museums come down on one side of the 鈥淗istory Wars鈥�. The staff who care for their collections are often keen to address their lack of information on specific Yuin histories.

In 2017, Nowra Museum hosted the travelling exhibition This is where they travelled, which accompanied Paul Irish鈥檚 book . In the same year, the Berry Museum hosted the Yuin anthropologist, the late , who delivered a on Yuin history of the South Coast. Kangaroo Valley Pioneer Village committee members responded to a draft of this essay, saying they would renew signage in the museum and were keen to pursue new research on local Aboriginal histories.

Despite this, the overwhelming story remains that of white settlers鈥� hard work and perseverance. And although part of the reason for the static nature of museum stories is lack of funds and a reliance on the time and energy of volunteers, the narrative鈥檚 repetitive nature 鈥� and its general wear and tear 鈥� may also be due to its omissions. Bruce Pascoe reframes the perception of Australian history as boring, by drawing our attention to : 鈥淎ustralian history isn鈥檛 boring, it鈥檚 just too hot to handle.鈥�

The blinkered storyline of small museums is a symptom of what US scholar Mark Rifkin calls 鈥溾��. Settler common sense describes the feeling of 鈥渢aken-for-granted鈥� possession of, and belonging to, a place which has been taken from someone else.

Settler common sense exists as 鈥渁 given鈥�: we (as a white person, I include myself) have the unquestionable right to possess that which doesn鈥檛 belong to us. It normalises settler possession of, and control over, land and the stories about that land. The pioneer or settler narrative relies on that assumption: white rights to non-white land, and white rights to the telling of history.

 

A place somewhere else

, NSW, presents Aboriginal history as far removed from its own backyard.

In one of the cottages in the recreated village hang two bark paintings, donated in the 1970s by a local who acquired them in Arnhem Land. In another cottage is a display case containing miniature souvenir versions of clubs, boomerangs and animal figurines.

Below these are a group of unlabelled grinding stones, which may or may not be from the local region. Labels for other objects in this display read 鈥渂oomerang made from mulga wood鈥� and 鈥渕ore mulga wood boomerangs鈥� (mulga is a small tough acacia which grows in arid inland regions, not Kangaroo Valley). Other labels read: 鈥渞eplica of an emu egg鈥�; and 鈥渇ighting weapon could be used to split the enemy鈥檚 head open鈥�.

These items are presented without context and without any relationship to Kangaroo Valley. They are accompanied by an illustrated word list entitled 鈥淚nterpreting Aboriginal Symbols鈥� and although the words are indeed Aboriginal, the language is , spoken by people of the Herbert River region of North Queensland.

By presenting objects that are replicas, miniatures, unlabelled or misleadingly labelled, the museum allows a generic 鈥淎boriginality鈥� to be visible while keeping it unrelated to Kangaroo Valley and local people. The presentation does not disrupt the Kangaroo Valley settler narrative because Aboriginal existence is presented as inauthentic and elsewhere.

Other histories about Kangaroo Valley tell a different story. The museum鈥檚 own archival sources document the in the region (albeit from colonial viewpoints) between local Aboriginal people and colonisers during the 1800s and 1900s, the large gatherings at Kangaroo Valley for ceremony and song-learning 鈥渇or which they sometimes 鈥� and the Aboriginal families who relied on work at the four in the town in the 1940s.

More than portraits

Drive south over the scenic mountain range from Kangaroo Valley and you will cross the Shoalhaven River to Nowra.

As a regional centre, Nowra has several museums to choose from: the for aircraft enthusiasts, for lovers of old houses and domestic interiors, and the run by the Shoalhaven Historical Society.

 

Nowra Museum鈥檚 exhibition of local Aboriginal presence is built around a collection of timber and stone artefacts and an impressive black and white photograph of an elderly couple, James Goulding and Mary Carpenter. They are seated on chairs in a garden, and wear European clothing typical of the early 1900s. Goulding, who also wears a top hat, has a 鈥榖reastplate鈥� suspended from a chain, around his neck.

In a display case near the photograph, is a brass breastplate engraved with the name 鈥淣eddy Noora鈥� and 鈥淪hoal Haven 1834鈥�. Alongside this is a reproduction of a drawing that was part of a series of portraits of Aboriginal 鈥榢ings鈥� and their wives done in Sydney by German-born , in the early 1830s. The portrait shows the young Neddy Noora, wearing the breastplate over his European clothing.

The granting of to Aboriginal people signified a reward given for assistance or rescue and they were an attempt at gaining influence over individuals thought to be leaders.

Aboriginal recipients also had a stake in these tactics, no doubt being well aware of the hierarchies so blatant in colonial society. Offered as a status symbol, acceptance was the 鈥溾��. However, by the end of the 1800s, breastplates lacked political currency and became prized by white .

Entangled

Engraved on the breastplate James Goulding wears are the words 鈥淏udd Billy King of Jarvis Bay鈥� (sic). Budd Billy is an Anglicisation of Goulding鈥檚 Aboriginal name Budbili. Ngarigu linguist Jakelin Troy gives the meaning of budbili as 鈥溾��.

This single word from the Dharawal language of the Yuin nation, links a person and a place with important historical and cultural objects 鈥� a pre-colonial possum-skin rug and a colonial metal breastplate 鈥� both of which existed within the tangled cultures of the pre and early post-Federation era.

 

The breastplate given to Neddy Noora was found in Broughton Creek (near the town of Berry) in 1925. Neddy and another Aboriginal man, Toodwit (also known as Broughton), to mark an overland route between Sydney and Jervis Bay in 1819. Toodwit was central to Alexander Berry鈥檚 1822 reconnoitre of the region.

Nowra Museum鈥檚 display has been updated recently to include a brief explanation of the political aspect of giving and receiving breastplates and when I contacted Lynne Allen, president of the Shoalhaven Historical Society, she explained that museum volunteers can provide visitors with an explanation of breastplates as a European construct.

She said that the large portrait of Mary Carpenter and James Goulding was 鈥渃onsistently amongst our visitors, Aboriginal or otherwise, the most popular of all our items鈥�.

Does this popularity translate into greater awareness of our complex local histories? The people in these portraits are not just entangled with the white cultures that entered their lands but are linked to Yuin descendants today.

Quaint and charming

Heading north, back to the city, you will again pass through Berry, advertised to tourists as an historic village with 鈥溾�� that is 鈥溾��.

plays its part, presenting Alexander Berry as a soft-hearted adventurer yet hard-headed businessman, who was distressed by any form of human suffering. His interest in phrenology and trade in the skulls of Aboriginal people is not mentioned in Berry Museum.

In 1822, Berry and his business partner Edward Wollstonecraft were granted 10,000 acres on the Shoalhaven River by Governor Sir Thomas Brisbane. This possession of a vast section of Yuin land, renamed Coolangatta, .

Collection of human skeletal remains, particularly skulls, was not uncommon in colonial societies. Berry and Governor Brisbane in phrenology (the study of skull shape), and Brisbane donated a 鈥渟kull of a native female of New South Wales鈥� to the Phrenological Society of Edinburgh.

During the 1820s Berry also from associates in Tasmania. In 1827, in a letter accompanying a 鈥渃raniological specimen鈥�, Berry describes Arawarra, 鈥渢he owner of the present specimen鈥�, as a 鈥渙nce formidable warrior鈥�, being carried by his son to 鈥渢ake a last look of Cooloomgatta (sic) now occupied by strangers鈥�.

Berry describes how the 鈥渧enerable old gentleman鈥� died two days after this meeting and was buried on the Coolangatta estate. He goes on to describe the manner of Arawarra鈥檚 burial, he 鈥渓ived to an extreme old age and died in peace鈥�.

The tourist space

Historian and cultural studies scholar, , asks 鈥渨hat can and can鈥檛 be said in 鈥榯ourist space鈥�?鈥�. Vandalisation of burial sites and collection of skulls does not fit with the image of Berry as a relaxing country getaway. And including the story of Arawarra carelessly may risk further desecration of Yuin protocols if not undertaken with extensive consultation with Elders and community members.

 

Museums have never been neutral in the choices they make about what to display and how, but avoiding traumatic or difficult histories is not neutral either.

Wiradjuri curator at the , , states that museums and archives 鈥渟hould not just work to document bad history, but work to prevent bad history from happening鈥�. Including the 鈥渂ad鈥� history of the town of Berry may work towards a better understanding of how replacing the bush and swamps greatly benefited some people at the ongoing expense of others.

Reinterpreting local histories is not for the fainthearted and the more the 鈥渢op鈥� layer of the pioneer story is disrupted, the more the 鈥渢oo hot to handle鈥� stories emerge.

The website claims, 鈥渢he complete story of Alexander Berry is full of adventure and courage鈥�. This pitch tells us there is some serious reconsideration needed regarding what constitutes a 鈥渃omplete鈥� story.

History is messy

In 2018, the , commissioned by peak body Australian Museums and Galleries Association, was finalised. The aim of the roadmap is to change 鈥渋nteractions, communication, understandings and ultimately, the Australian view of First Peoples鈥�.

Small museums, with their wealth of material, stories, experience and passionate volunteer staff, could play an important part in achieving that aim.

Megan Davis, Cobble Cobble woman, Pro Vice Chancellor and Professor of Law at UNSW, reported that in the dialogues conducted in preparation for the Uluru Statement from the Heart, the was that 鈥渁 nation cannot recognise people they do not know or understand鈥�.

The truth-telling the Uluru Statement calls for, could be work that local museums, in partnership with Aboriginal communities, could contribute to in ways that profoundly reinvigorate how local histories get told.

, Phd candidate,

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