The first Australian feminist aboriginal spokeswoman for human rights activities Down Under.

L'Assimilation – Non! Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Assimilation – No !” by T. Wignesan

Born Kathleen Jean Mary RUSKA on November 3, 1920, in North Stradbroke Island, off Queensland, she was deemed as an aboriginal (poor whites too were subject to the same fate) - as was the custom during the White Australia Policy days Down Under – fit at 13 to leave primary school to labour as a house-servant, and in 1939, she volunteered to serve out the War in the Women’s Corps. She married Walker, a fellow soldier - who spent his days in detention at Changi Prison in Singapore under the Japanese Regime - and had two sons: Vivian and Denis. After the War, she met and befriended for life her biographer, Kathleen Cochrane, a great solace to her during her “single parent” days. Kath Walker then wrote poetry, essays, stories and articles to highlight the plight of her downtrodden and despised kith and kin, and with the publication of her first book of poems: “Where we going” in 1964 (sold out in three days) achieved national fame, and other collections soon followed in 1966 to the eighties with the backing of the poet and critic, Judith Wright. Soon after followed international acclaim, even a doctoral honoris causa degree. Not just the first aboriginal poet to be published, she became almost instantly the spokesperson for her people all over the Continent, a people until then without a voice: not until 1967 were they even given voting rights, and not until recently has the government even proffered an “apology” for the way aboriginals had been treated for so long.
Kath Walker - before her demise in 1993 - then assumed her native name: OODGEROO – “Noonuccal” being the name of her tribe. At the same time, she even chose to wear loose flowing garments as a symbol of her difference and achievement as the champion of the aborigines in Australia, a success story to reinforce the belief in poetry as the most formidable weapon of peaceful change in history.

(Oodgeroo was also a competent cricketer, having represented the State of Queensland a couple of times or more, and it only goes to show that having mastered the finest art form of play known to man, versifying or poetising was mere child’s play to her: it goes without saying that good cricketers make for dazzling poets!)

[My response to your comment, Ron, got chopped off, so here goes: Bonjour Ron! Yes, it has taken me over a year to get just one computer in working order.
Ooops, my rejoinder got chopped off. To continue... Thanks a lot for the red-carpet welcome! The original poem like all Australian aboriginal writing was in English, but I can't post the original poem alongside the translation without permission from the publisher. Yes, Oodgeroo Noonuccal was a "dazzling" poet alright. No less than an Australian White renowned poet and critic lauded her.
If only Americans could abandon "baseball" (which quite obviously pruduces "mediocre" poets) for lordly CRICKET, America, too, could vaunt of "dazzling" poets in their midst, I'd humbly aver (having played the game all my youthful days). Up to you to persuade your fellow countrymen. Every good wish. No offence meant. P.S. Did you read Kevin Gilbert's poem from Down Under????]

Assimilation – Non!

Versez votre cruche de vin dans la grande rivière
Et où se trouve votre vin ? Il n’y a que de la rivière.
Le génie d’une vieille race doit-elle disparaître
Afin que la race puisse-t-elle survivre ?
Nous qui désirons d’être des égaux de vous, un peuple digne,
Nous devrions maintenant nous priver de trop dont nous aimons,
Des libertés d’antan pour des nouvelles contraintes,
Votre monde en échange pour le nôtre,
Mais un noyau restant nous devrions conserver toujours pour
nous mêmes.
Vous nous faites changer et nous contraindre par la force afin que
nous assumons une autre forme,
Mais laissez nos racines ancrées profondément dans la terre
d’antan.
Nous sommes dotés des cœurs et des esprits différents
Dans des corps insolites. Ne nous demandez pas
D’être des déserters, désavouer non plus nos mères,
De changer l’inchangeable.
On ne peut pas persuader un gommier de comporter comme un
chêne.
Quelques choses se perdent, quelque chose est sacrifiée, mais
Nous allons continuer d’avancer afin d’apprendre.
Ne pas être vaincus et perdus, dilués, mais conservant
Notre propre identité, notre fierté raciale.
Versez votre cruche de vin dans la grande rivière
Et où se trouve votre vin ? Il n’y a que la rivière.

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
Copyright © T Wignesan | Year Posted 2016