THE MYALL CREEK MEMORIAL Oh! Listen to my story then rise and live with me.

First, some background. On 10 June 1838, a massacre of Indigenous Australians by European colonisers occurred at Myall Creek. It is a sad reflection on the early history of Australia. This massacre became more widely known because, untypically, several of the murderers were caught, tried and hanged.

In January 1965, headlines in the Bingara Advocate said, ‘Memorial to be erected at Myall Creek’. A story followed telling of Len Payne, a white resident, who desired to erect a memorial which would take the form of a symbolic gate on the site of the massacre. However, in the following weeks a Bingara resident wrote a letter condemning Len’s proposal as ill-conceived, unconsidered, mischievous and an insult to the Bingara people. Len replied to this condemnation, but his letter was refused publication.

During the 1980s Len met with Jim Millar and others from Armidale every tenth of June, to lay a wreath at the site. Len never lost hope that one day a memorial would be built. He continued to visit the site every anniversary until his death.

In October 1998, at the suggestion of Sue Blacklock, a descendant of those who survived the massacre, a conference on reconciliation was held at Myall Creek. This was to be a one-off meeting, but the group decided to continue in order to erect a permanent memorial.

Now read on …

Unfortunately, there has always been a code of silence surrounding the massacre and the ill treatment of Indigenous Australians, but, as the truth of our history is slowly being uncovered, many non-indigenous people are appalled and are determined to do something to set things right. It is true our history is not all bad, but the bad must be acknowledged along with the good, if the history of our nation is to be authentic for the good of all.

At the first big meeting to plan the memorial, John Brown asked the descendants of the Myall Creek people, if they wanted the participation of non-indigenous people or did they want to proceed alone? The decision was unanimous for the inclusion of non-indigenous and indigenous people. We want Australia to be an inclusive society, they said, where all are respected, particularly, the first people of the nation. This cannot happen unless our full history is experienced.

The day that Des Blake, a descendant of one of the perpetrators, arrived for one of the meetings, was a memorable one. Months later Beulah Adams, another such white woman came along. This was something the organisers had certainly not expected. But when Sue Blacklock, a descendent of one of the victims, hugged and welcomed Beulah Adams, a descendent of one of the perpetrators, a gigantic step into the future was made. The spirit of hope within the desire of Len Payne was born again.

The success of the memorial was now assured.

Today, as we journey up the hill toward the completed memorial, we climb a winding path, symbolising the rainbow serpent, the red of the path for the blood that was shed.

The seven stones marking the stopping places, recall the seven colours of the rainbow. Each stone is white—the Aboriginal colour of mourning—and bears a plaque telling a part of the tragic story.

The existence of this memorial, and its story of understanding, acceptance and healing, is an awesome testimony to the indomitable human spirit and the power it exerts, as it goes beyond the searing past into the triumph of a reconciled future. It is a supreme act of love and forgiveness.