Which aboriginal tribe lived in mordialloc

The view of officials, newspaper editors and citizens was that the hundreds of Aboriginals camping on both sides of the Yarra River should be moved back into the bush, but no direction was given as to how this was to be done.

Eight hundred and ninety five acres of land on the Yarra River had been set aside for the use and benefit of Aboriginals but it had become coveted by white men.

It became valuable because of its proximity to Melbourne. Thomas wrote to the Governor of New South Wales, Sir George Gipps, in December reporting that he had heard, on good authority, that the colonial government was about to dispose of the land formerly reserved for the Aboriginals and that two hundred and fifty-five acres had already been surveyed and marked out for distribution.

In addition, he suggested that some of the profits from the sale of the original reserve of land be used to purchase cattle to form a station which would support the Aboriginals by providing employment. Through this action Thomas thought Aboriginals could be prevailed upon to form habits of industry.

By June William Thomas, as Guardian of Aborigines, had secured eight hundred and thirty-two acres of land straddling the Mordialloc Creek as a reserve for the Bunurong people. Why had the numbers of Aborigines dropped so significantly from to ? The Committee concluded that it was due to the general occupation of the country by the white population; to vices acquired by contact with the whites, the indulgence in ardent spirits and hunger in consequence of the scarcity of game since the settlement of the Colony; and in some cases cruelty and ill-treatment.

The excessive indulgence in spirits was seen as the chief and fatal cause and one almost impossible to eradicate. A solution to the problem was seen to be the gathering of all the remaining tribes in one location. Thomas, Guardian of Aborigines, and the Rev Spieseke, the Moravian Missionary to the Aborigines, both expressed dissatisfaction with this proposal because they claimed it was impractical. Thomas said the blacks would not leave their own hunting grounds and would pine away at once if removed from them.

They would never agree to going to an identified site he said. Consequently, the committee reluctantly abandoned the idea of settling them together.

While in Thomas calculated there were members of the two groups — Yarra Tribe and Western Port Tribe or Wurundjeri and Bunurong — for which he was responsible, by there was a total of thirty six. He said the Aboriginals were susceptible to pulmonary disorders, particularly when they have been drinking to excess and not able to reach the encampment they lay down, perhaps on a cold wet night, and literally throw themselves into the arms of death. Of the fifteen members of the Bunurong or Coast Tribe remaining in , the oldest among them was not more than forty; the rest were from twenty two years to thirty years of age.

There was one five year old girl whose mother was a Gipps Land black and her father from the Coastal Tribe. These tools were used for certain ceremonies or for making wooden tools to be used in ceremony, or sometimes for carving stories into these important objects. One old mythology story speaks of the Mindie, a menacing creator spirit that came across the heads and onto the Peninsula during a terrible storm in the form of a whirlwind or willy willy.

The Mindie travelled angrily up the Peninsula shaping the dune systems as it went. Water then filled the low points creating the waterholes that were so important to life in this area. Our people have been being born at Monmar for tens of thousands of years. Many would also have been buried within the sands of this treasured place over that time. The connection we have to Point Nepean as a result of this long history is not easy to quantify into words, which barely begin to scratch the surface, making all attempts to describe its significance feel understated, this is no exception.

Our Ancestors called this place Monmar. Follow Following. Nepean Historical Society. Sign me up. Marine communities devastated by over-harvesting and pollution, struggle to survive, especially the shellfish so loved by the Boon wurrung. The sounds of the night are accompanied by a cool breeze caressing her skin.

Stars fade, darkness descends like a soft velvet cape and she pictures the Aboriginal Flag flapping proudly in the wind in Attenborough Park. It is comforting that in many places consultation and consideration have replaced confrontation and conflict.

She hopes recorded history will acknowledge contributions and mistakes; that Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal communities reconciled will have mutual understanding, that environmental awareness will halt destruction. The moon smiles assurance, tomorrow is another day; another opportunity to embrace life and live in harmony with this beautiful land. Winter has well and truly arrived in Mordialloc this week!

Winter woollies the order of the day, electric blankets the order of the night! One of my students suggested being born in Scotland made me less susceptible to the cold, however after 53 years, my blood must have thinned.

Although not completely acclimatised to the extremely hot weather, I feel the cold like anyone else. This week going to work, I too huddled in the waiting room at Mordialloc Railway Station rather than brave the southerly wind sending dust and leaves skittering along the platform and snatching at scarves, coats and hats.

It may be cold outside, but this is the perfect excuse to stay inside and write! Unless, of course, I take a walk along the foreshore or Mordialloc Creek for inspiration!

The sky, sea and surrounds more interesting and mercurial in winter. Children clamber over the pirate ship slipping, sliding, spewing from all sides like the cutthroats of old. Abandoning ship then climbing aboard on ladders of plastic and rope their fantasy ship anchored in a sandy sea.

Grandparents diligently move from slide, to swing, to see-saw and back again a day in the park serious business. Mothers watch from afar, this daily duty to tire the children, their conversations interrupted to soothe, admonish, wipe a nose. A father returns to his boyhood with delight monitoring his offspring while steering the child towards equipment made for two. Naked masts and tired trawlers bob, the sea a wavy navy ribbon unfurled, clouds hovering bruises in a blue sky.

Children cavort beneath the foreboding blanket bright winter clothes transforming them into delicious Cherry Ripes, Candy Canes and lollipops. A blustery wind has hysterical palm tree fronds waving and the foreshore tea-tree whispering their attention-seeking an urgent warning.

A plaintive song echoes in university grounds. The mournful echo recalls dinosaur dynasties amid the whirr of bicycle wheels, footsteps and ring tones mobile conversations and iPod seclusion. A plaintive whistle announcing dusk before full-throated celebration As lights douse, classroom doors close.

A melodious call to rest as shadows deepen, and the campus empties. Crowded trams trundle past bathed in artificial sunlight beneath the star embroidered sky. Tall grey buildings reach to conquer the ghosts of long forgotten species the call of birded tongue a plaintive echo. A winter morn in Mordialloc cloudless sky a washed-out blue melting frost on grassy blades glistening bubbles of dripping dew.

A magpie family carol and cavort breakfasting from territory marked the wattlebirds have departed with harsh caws and hurried darts. Showy parrots squeal and screech their sunset songs a welcome delight, but the proud magpies debutante dance a morning joy and favourite sight.

Attenborough Park trees. First plaque looking towards creek. Share this: Tweet. Like this: Like Loading How different life is from what I imagined when I came to live here 31 years ago … Moonstruck The woman walks along the sand from Mordialloc towards Beaumaris , within a few metres of open-air campsites once used by the Boon wurrung. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust..

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