Revisiting a major problem I have with the Buffyverse

 I think I have figured this blog out: it will live again, but it must live in ways that I can enjoy it. Whether it's me ruminating on my family research finds and the socio-political and historical significance of them, or it's me throwing down some random thing about pop culture, or it's a post bagging out the colony - I need to be able to enjoy writing again. And this is going to be a place where I do just this. Hope the two readers I have enjoy it too.

I have been rewatching Buffy and Angel again, and two things have brought this on. The first was the untimely death of Michelle Trachtenberg, who played Dawn Summers. The second was the announcement that a reboot series was on its way, and that it would include Sarah Michelle Gellar, while series originator Joss Whedon would not be included. Whedon being elsewhere is not surprising - in the intervening years, just how problematic the dude was with those he worked with has been documented in a number of places, and I will barely delve into that here. The extent of the complaints are easily findable. My curiousity though of how this show will grow what existed before it led me back to revisiting what actually did happen before. 

Here's a basic - both series have not aged well. I am not terribly surprised. For me, they were more of an enjoyable and female-centric romp rather than the cutting-edge feminism they were often touted as. They broke ground by taking a blonde-bimbo prototype character and instead placing her as the protector of the world, they featured the first prime time lesbian kiss, and at least in Buffy, men were in supporting roles. However, I had problems with certain things back then. For starters, why did almost every dude Buffy have sex with turn evil after the act (except for the boring one we all hated), if he wasn't already evil? What sort of purity self-flagellation was that? And the show is littered with ableist slurs, Buffy is kind of racist at times (assuming Robin Wood was from "the hood", for example), and for some bizarre reason, the only thing that could send Spike on a redemptive path was a rape attempt, even though the bloke had been redeeming somewhat for two seasons prior. Also, what the fuck was Xander, in general?

My biggest problem though always related to Cordelia. I was not surprised when, only a couple of years ago, Charisma Carpenter went public about her experiences being written out of the series, because way back then, her trajectory was just so incredibly problematic. They started with a vapid rich bitch, set about redeeming her over the years so she became a warrior in her own right, then just threw her out. And why? Well, essentially because the woman behind the character had the hide to be pregnant. 

It was truly fucked. Why? Because as a plot device, Cordelia had already managed to be impregnated twice (once in her head), via demons trying to spawn. Her body was up-for-grabs as far as pregnancy went, as long as they could control the narrative. The femaleness of it was exploitable as an incubator of life, provided that life was created in a non-consensual manner, and needed to be destroyed for the good of the world.

And so, when Charisma Carpenter fell pregnant, so it seemed the showrunner set about punishing her for doing so, by turning her own pregnancy into an evil thing, set in motion by a sordid act, that needed to be destroyed for the good of the world. What's more, it appeared to be greatly excused for what it was by the Buffyverse, for some "greater good" that was the maintenance of Whedon's legendary status. As I watched it unfold, it made my skin crawl, and as I found out over the years that my suspicions about Cordelia's arc then exit started to be confirmed via actors speaking out over the years, I was not surprised.

Why couldn't Cordelia have a positive and wanted pregnancy on the show? Why couldn't her pregnancy be written into the storylines in a good way? It wasn't like they didn't have the opportunities to do this. Gruselug, for example, was a half-demon from Pylea who Cordelia started a consensual relationship following his exile from his home dimension. Perhaps instead of exploring some sort of growing romantic connection with Angel, the two of them could have remained in an uncomplicated camraderie while she shacked up with a bloke who, himself, could have had an expanded role fighting the good fight permanently? Or maybe she could have pursued single motherhood, and brought her own child up in this alternate reality of demons and good-doing? Perhaps she could have decided to be a surrogate for the assumed pansexual Lorne? Who knows - they didn't explore a positive vision of pregnancy, then motherhood, for the character.

Instead, they had Cordelia boff a son-like figure in a pity-fuck scenario to fall pregnant. Then the minute she was pregnant, she became evil. Then her child essentially destroyed her as she birthed it, leaving her unable to function beyond that point. Finally, after being in a coma for a while, they brought her back to set Angel on the "right path", only to finally kill her off. It was, in a word, disgusting.

I actually cannot imagine what it must have been like for that actor to have her pregnancy so abused. Carpenter has stated that Whedon was mad with her, that he asked her if she was going to "get rid" of it, and that he called her fat. But I can imagine that as they then set about abusing her character in the storyline, the poor woman had to put on some serious game face just to continue fronting up on set. For a bloke so often celebrated for his "pro-feminist" work, it was all pretty misogynistic work by Whedon. Did Carpenter even get the opportunity to enjoy her pregnancy, and is it any wonder she has also indicated she suffered from post-natal depression?

Rewatching it now, it's making my skin crawl with added ick, cast into relief by both my own ageing process, but also the cast revelations over the years. I can't actually believe, with the power of retrospect, that this was ever considered OK. And I hope, with the reboot, these lessons have been learnt and truly, a new era of the show really does take it to new, actually feminist, places.

Perimenopausal crap.

 I am here to whinge, and am taking a break from my regularly scheduled family history posts to do so. Let's go for some old school feminism, hey?

I have been perimenopausal now for at least three years, however when the clock turned over on 2025, so too did my advancement in this process. I feel like I am going crazy - a couple of years ago, I labelled this entire process "reverse teenagehood", yet had no idea just how accurate this would be the closer I came to my 47th birthday. The thing is though, despite this going on for a few years already, I feel completely unprepared, and I totally believe this shouldn't be the case.

The feeds of my social media accounts are jammed with teas and supplements that apparently alleviate the symptoms of "the change". Yet the only symptom they actually talk about alleviating is hot flushes (flashes, whatever - I will be calling them flushes as I have seen them refer to both). Same sort of thing happened in a work meeting the other day - hand-held fans were suggested as a merch item to highlight reproductive leave. Thing is, I am yet to have a hot flush. I am pretty convinced at this point that they will not feature amongst my symptoms, and though I am deeply curious as to what it might be like to have one related to perimenopause, the only time I have experienced something approximating this was when I was taking Tramadol for my back pain. 

I have noticed too that when we see this process portrayed on screen, hot flushes again end up being the only symptom highlighted. Borgen, for example, had the main character leave a meeting to run her wrists under cold water and change her shirt. There was one scene featuring a "surprise period", but certainly, this didn't disrupt her anywhere near as much. If I were to think about other portrayals over the years, this has been the only constant.

I cannot help but think that the reason why hot flushes are the only thing we ever see addressed in the public sphere is because they are the most sanitised symptom you can portray. It is the symptom that has utterly nothing to do with our "bits". Yes, it is a symptom that does impact about 75% of women going through this reproductive life transition, but 100% of those who menstruate experience menstrual disturbances. Things are a bit more complicated than us simply feeling a bit too hot on occasion.

Why am I writing this now? Well, since the beginning of the year, I have experienced the following:

1. A cycle that lasted 51 days. 
2. Two weeks' worth of spotting.
3. Flooding, and pain that could not be abated by panadeine forte. The flooding actually came on the same day I had my regular check-up with a repro health practitioner so that was rather inconvenient. Every day, I leave the house with a full suite of menstrual products "just in case"
4. Phantom PMT. One of my surefire signs of an incoming period has long been that I will eat everything in the house, then order DoorDash because I am "hungry". This has meant that I am two or three days off starting a cycle. I have still had this symptom in all its glory, but with a "no show" event.
5. Two mini migraines - until late last year, I had not experienced a migraine since my early 40s.
6. Some serious "downs". I find myself pushing away the world, in general, at times. My mood has not been stable, and though there are many factors contributing to that, it is also being exacerbated by the hormonal.
7. Sexual dysfunction. Who knew the body not maintaining that regular series of events could impact that side of things? Well, probably all of us, but again, I cannot think of a portrayal of a woman in her late 40s on-screen that reflects that scenario, even if I have heard women jokingly referring to it all as "men-on-pause".
8. Sleep disturbances. To be fair, I have always struggled with insomnia, but lately, it has reared its head more regularly.
9. Severe inflammatory symptoms, and neuropathy. Some days I wake up, and everything just aches. My body also randomly feels exhausted. The neuropathy in my feet has been a constant for about a year, and though that may have other causes, the timing is deeply suspicious. 
10. Iron deficiency and possibly also Vitamin B deficiency.
11. A feeling of deep excitement and appreciation when I discovered that one of the toilets in at work had a bidet installed in it, and therefore my stress of potentially experiencing a "flood event" at work was alleviated a little.

It's only March.

In some aspects, I have privilege here. I acknowledge, for example, my friends who are parents and have teenage daughters adjusting to their developing bodies at the same time that they are adjusting to theirs. That must actually be hell. I also have the privilege of having a reproductive life that has had clockwork precision, so I therefore can identify these shifts easier than those who have been plagued by irregular periods, PCOS, and so forth. 

But I have NFI what is going on. And nor, it seems, do most other women my age going through this. We're all navigating a series of symptoms that may have all, or nothing, to do with our changing bodies, and even doctor Google is not being much assistance. And to top it off, capitalism has decided I need ads for symptom-relieving tea in my social media feed. Medically, there appears to be not much available except for HRT. Given I never responded well to synthetic hormones such as the Pill, I am unlikely to be gravitating towards that any time soon. There needs to be more out there, but given the male default has greatly framed medical science, and time and time again we are hit with evidence that women's pain is not taken seriously by the profession, I doubt any alternatives will be on the market by the time I am through all this.

On the plus side though, I am at least finding that your average Generation X woman is significantly more likely to whinge openly about all this. The generations before us seemed to suffer more in silence, or if they didn't, they were more likely to be ignored. I am also thankful that reproductive leave is hitting workplace agreements at the same time I am going through this. It does highlight the importance of us to talk openly about the impacts perimenopause has on our working lives to create working conditions that take this into account. 

We also need to change the dialogue, because it is rare that I actually see the word "perimenopause" used. Everything seems to be labelled as "menopause", and this is erasive. A couple of months ago, I wrote as much with the argument that they want us to believe, as women, that the real problem is our loss of fertility and how sad this apparently is. The processes leading up to this, however, are complicated, variable, distressing, and can go on for years, so why is it shelved as far as its importance goes?

Anyway, writing to rant. Hoping this resonates with others. In solidarity. 

The Apology - 17th anniversary

 17th anniversary of the Apology.

I acknowledge my great-uncle whose song about his own experiences as a stolen kid became an anthem for Stolen Gens mob, nationwide - https://youtu.be/v3ytJioxKzI?si=Or-y9Ws6kkjccU7n

I acknowledge my grandmother, whose story as a stolen kid at The Bungalow and Jay Creek was preserved in the Between Two Worlds exhibition - https://territorystories.nt.gov.au/10070/702243

I acknowledge my great-grandmother Alice, who fought hard to keep the connections of family alive by riding her camel hundreds of kms to see her stolen kids - https://alicespringsnews.com.au/.../31/bungalow-days-matter/

I acknowledge my grandfather, his siblings, my dad, uncles and aunties, and their cousins, who were all born under the NT wardship acts and thus had their movements. marriages and dwellings controlled and documented by the state. Not officially "stolen" per se, but the reality is that because they were all wards, there was little real choice people had but to adhere to what the authorities were imposing on them.

Finally though, I acknowledge my great-grandmother Mary, her mother Alethe (Alice, Angelina) and the fact that these two were essentially "ground zero" for studies that became the basis of stolen generation policy due to my now known great-great-grandfather's research work with Baldwin Spencer. Even in 2025, how does one grapple with that legacy? I'd argue that claiming it proudly and uncritically while erasing these two Arrernte women is not the answer - https://blackfeministranter.blogspot.com/.../the-question...

Always remember, so it never happens again.

Learning about colonisation - a long way to go. - Supplementary part to my family tree research

 "You should be thanking your lucky stars that it was the English who colonised you, and not the Dutch/Portuguese/Chinese/insert other group here. You'd all be dead if that were the case".

If I had a dollar... well, let's just say that reparations would no longer be necessary because my dream industrial warehouse convert in the inner north would be fully realised, and I could hire someone who can actually use a stove so I would never have to eat one of my own meals again. Anyway...

All Aboriginal people have heard this claim. Some racist has spat it at us, as a form of defence when we positively assert our identities, in a way of derailing our arguments. It's a lazy way of pointing at some "other", in a classic racist Australian tactic, in a bid to get us to shut up.

As it has turned out though, my family tree research has uncovered that I am the product of two different colonial products. I exist due to the British colonisation of Australia, as well as the Dutch colonisation of Sri Lanka. For all intents and purposes, because my life has been shaped by the former - from racist school yard taunts to becoming involved in the Indigenous sovereignty movement - I am reasonably across how it works to this day. I am the descendant of two people impacted by the wardship policies, three people who were "taken" by welfare due to this, and now, also, anthropologists and the protectorate system. My Arrernte heritage is why I have been othered my entire life, and fighting for pride in this when Australia remains so damn ignorant of its legacy is why I am who I am today. 

But now, I also am a member of the famous Ondaatje family. And as such, this taunt that racists have flung at me so many times over the years has been cast into sharp relief. Suddenly, I have been found myself needing to know more about the Dutch history of colonisation. My knowledge on this front, not unlike those who have throw this feckless taunt my way, is woefully lacking. And so beginneth another research journey for one who is, frankly, addicted to knowing everything she can.

There is no question that Dutch colonisation has been fucked. That it has led to pain, suffering, death, apartheid, and so many other things over the centuries. HOWEVER, what is inescapable about my Ondaatje line is that they are "Burgher" peoples, and that in contrast to the situation here in Australia, the Burghers are a distinct ethnic group that formed due to the intermarriage of colonials and locals. No such distinct ethnic group here, with its own customs and traditions, has formed due to intermarriage of Aboriginal people and colonisers. We are either "Black" or "White", and the act of positively identifying as Aboriginal is a form of resistance in the face of genocide, assimilation policies, and ongoing colonial agendas. In short, they tried to wipe us out, so it has set up a binary and a need to reinforce our Indigenous heritage in the face of erasure.

So what then is the difference between these colonial processes that has led to a different ethnic group versus an ongoing attempted annihilation? One night, I was drinking at a favourite dive bar in Adelaide, and I hit a fellow Aboriginal mate who knew more than I did up with this question. In a very surface level response, this friend stated that one of the key differences was, very simply, the motive for colonisation. In the case of the Brits here, the motive was the formation of a prison colony so they could shove society's undesirables elsewhere. In the case of the Dutch in Sri Lanka though, as well as religion, it was the spice trade.

What does this ultimately mean? In the case of the Brits, they were expanding their empire, and their goals meant that they were not reliant on the locals to do so, regardless of any sentiments expressed by the Crown. They wanted the space, they needed the land, and so they set out getting it by any means possible. There was no need to learn the local language. As long as Aboriginal people were dying around them and they were still safe, there was also no need to establish trade partnerships. There was some need to enslave locals and put them to work in order to make these ventures successful, but this was done by force and people were compelled to adhere as their homes were starved of resources required to rear non-native animals and crops.

Conversely, when trade is the driving reason for colonisation as what the case was in Sri Lanka, there is a compulsion for colonisers to build up relationships. To integrate into existing communities. My ancestor Quint Ondaatje was noted as being able to speak five different languages proficiently, and certainly, in both the case of Sri Lanka and Indonesia, Dutch colonisers are noted as learning the local language as a way of strengthening trade partnerships. Quint's (and my) ancestor Ondaatchi - the Tamil physician - was celebrated for his knowledge, was integral in providing health care to the colonisers, and he himself converted to Lutherism and adopted the names Michael and Jurgen. In short, in order to succeed in his career, he needed to walk in these two communities, and so too did his employer, the governor. So as such, because trade formed the basis of colonisation, it meant colonisers were more likely to learn the languages and customs, foster positive relationships, and marry in. Force could not be the (sole) basis of the exchange because had it been, the Dutch East India Company would have never have got off the ground. And so from this, a distinct ethnic group that remains as a remnant of that history exists, and I am a descendant of this legacy.

There's one further part to this: those who make the header jibe seemingly forget that the Dutch actually did come to this land before the Brits did. And while there was no active colonisation here by the Dutch, the tale of the Batavia shipwreck states that not only did the people onboard spent more time killing each other than any locals, but that also two mutineers were left on the mainland, where it is thought by some that they survived by marrying into the local communities.

Colonisation has devastated the world. It has led to genocide, enslavement, entitlement, and white surpremacy. The Israel-Palestine conflict exists to this day because colonial powers took it upon themselves to carve up lands that weren't theirs, in a bid to maintain allyships, access to resources, and wallpaper over their own genocidal ambitions. Globally, colonisation is directly responsible for the wealth and health disparaties between the global north and south. But if I have learnt anything from all this, it is that not all colonisation has operated the same.

I recently, truthfully, stated in a public speech that I believe "full decolonisation is not possible", and perhaps this was an individual rather than broader Indigenous community reflection. I think instead, we are in a point in history where we grapple with this legacy while also finding ways to protect land, culture, family, and history, and this comes about via a formal treaty agreement. But as well as me being at peace with the fact that I am the biggest city Black ever created, I now also know that I am the product of two colonial processes. My heritage is complex, and untangling it all when it makes up my very fibres is, in essence, near impossible. It raises other questions too, particularly with regards to how these forebears interacted with the White Australia Policy, and whether this colonial Dutch heritage was erased due to colonial British projects. But I am also thankful that, via knowing more about my roots, I have come to understand more about colonisation globally. As a knowledge-seeker dedicated to lifelong learning, I will always be thankful for that opportunity. 

Dearly Beloved - part 8 in a series

 As I have stated, when I have been walking around the cemeteries, in the majority of cases, my people do not have headstones. A couple have the surname engraved at the front of the grave, but even those who have a defined resting spot are in the minority. Most of them don't. They simply lie, under the dirt, with nothing stating who they are. 

I don't know why. I think in the case of Elizabeth Croker Waldron, perhaps there was once a marker, but given the history of Coburg Pine Ridge Cemetery, constant flooding has washed it all away. I wonder if, perhaps in the case of others, people just never got around to marking it. Or they simply did not have the money, as the only member of my family who did have some finances behind him was James George Waller. It is also likely that others intended on having a stone placed once they had themselves been interred in these resting spaces, but this didn't end up happening. Regardless, it's a good thing I do like walking around cemeteries, reading the stories of others, because certainly, there has been little in the case of stories recorded on my family members' graves.

A notable point of difference has been my great-great-grandfather, John Henry Robinson, and my great-great-grandmother Charlotte Amor. They are co-interred in one of the most stunning cemeteries in Melbourne (Booroondara), with a clearly marked grave, and spectacular old-school headstone. My great-grandmother Bertha was their 7th-born child, immediately after her twin brother Albert. They are the only set of twins I have found in my family tree - I do have twin cousins, but that's different to descending from a twin. There were also some fantastic photos of Albert available. What can I say, the dude looked like a movie star. He had soulful eyes and cheekbones to die for, and it was the latter that gave me some historical echoes, as I also have prominent and high cheekbones.

Anyway, on shifting through Ancestry, and then downloading some certificates, I realised that what had been recorded about John Henry Robinson was incorrect. He was not, as others had recorded, from Wiltshire, rather he was a Dubliner. Though he was known as "John" quite often, his name was actually "John Henry", and he preferred to be addressed as such because his father's name was John. His mother, on his marriage certificate, was listed as Mary Farrell. Beyond these two, I have not been able to find much in the way of information. So I make the assumption that they too were Dubliners.

Another interesting thing about John Henry is that he came to Melbourne on the Leonides from NZ, having spent 7 months living there. I am unsure if his intended destination was always Melbourne, or if he had moved to NZ and then simply decided he wanted to move on. Either way, it's fortuitous that he did come here, because if he hadn't, then I wouldn't exist.

Charlotte was 19 when she married John Henry, her sister Letitia acting as her witness. Charlotte had come to Melbourne with her parents and her two surviving sisters - Louisa being the eldest and the other one. Her parents Henry and Elizabeth, like so many other of my ancestors, had so many children that didn't survive infancy, that I cannot help but think they moved here in the hope of a better life and to escape some pain. The trouble is, it didn't work out for them. Within a couple of years, the Amor sisters were orphaned, their parents buried in an unmarked grave in St Kilda, and Louisa marrying and seemingly acting as the parent figure until her sisters were old enough. I cannot imagine how terrifying this would have been for them.

On flicking through the records of John Henry and Charlotte, one thing becomes crystal clear - these two were utterly adored. John Henry, following his death at 64 years old from heart disease and pneumonia was, every year without fail, honoured by "in memoriam" notices by his wife and many children and their partners. Almost always, these loving notices contained a poem, or some skillful prose. It was amongst these notices actually that I first got the indication my great-grandmother's husband Cyril Purser Tuttleby was sometimes fondly known as "Purse" - he had signed one of these notices as such. But yes, I think it speaks a lot for John Henry that on his death, so many members of his family kept his memory alive.

I believe John Henry worked in industrial labouring, but that he was a tram "grip man", and so transported materials across sites and what-not. He apparently worked for the same people for over 40 years.

When John Henry died, Charlotte continued to live in their home at 61 Easey St (worth 250 pounds at the time) with her daughter Grace, who didn't marry until later in life. Due to this, Charlotte made special provisions in her will for Grace, leaving her furniture and household effects, then from there, dividing up her house and estate equally between all her children. Her executors were her son Henry, and her son-in-law Samuel. Charlotte's death was also marked by numerous loving messages in the classifieds. Despite her incredibly rough start, she died at 73 years old.

I wish I had photos of John Henry and Charlotte, and some more information, because truly, they seemed to be a deeply loving and devoted couple who fostered that same love in their own children. Of their daughter Bertha, I have few photos. There is one though of her standing in a wheat field next to a woman who, thanks to those tell-tale cheekbones, has to be another family member. She was a striking woman, not a traditional "beauty", per se, but with incredibly strong features that made her stand out.

Anyway, of all my ancestors, with the exception of James George Waller possibly who seemed similarly adored, it is clear John Henry and Charlotte fostered love and happiness, and in their grave, their children have let subsequent generations know just how much they thought of their parents.

"Can't swing a cat without hitting a Liddle" - part 7 in a series

 As mentioned, apart from getting a definitive answer to a couple of questions on my Liddle side, I have not ended up doing much research on that side. The Liddles are a big, Aboriginal family from Central Australia, and as such, just carrying that surname due to patriarchal social norms, as well as coming from a second well-known Central Australian Aboriginal family in the Perkinses through my grandmother, placed me in ways I have never known on the non-Indigenous side. There had also been other family members on that side who had already undertaken the research on the Liddle lines, so I was thankful for that work done, really. It was simple: the Liddles came over here from the Orkney Islands in Scotland where they mainly worked sheep. Thomas Drever Liddle and Mary Hercus landed in South Australia with their children, my lot descend from their son Thomas Foster Liddle and his second wife, Matilda Hurle. Their son, William Hurle Liddle went from Angaston, SA, up to Central Australia, got a pastoral lease. And therefore the "Central Australian Liddles" descend from William and his acknowledged Arrernte wife Mary Earwaaker. William had additional children to other women on the cattle station, and as such, surnames like Randall, Forrester, etc are also part of our immediate family. 

A huge part of my experience therefore have been people coming across random Liddles, via the public sphere, the media, politics, community, etc and going "hey, are you related to...". This happens all the time, and I am sure other Liddles get asked it in relation to me. In short though, the most common ones I get (relationship, in white ways of knowing, expressed in brackets) are: Lorraine (first cousin, once removed), Kerrynne (first cousin), Ryan (second cousin), Catherine (second cousin), Helen & Zane (aunties), Leanne (first cousin), Johnny (first cousin, once removed), Bob (first cousin, once removed), and Allan (dad). Just to cover it 😉

So it's due to this network, this already done research, and the many trips up and back from Mparntwe in my life, that digging deeper didn't really happen. I thought I knew the story there.

A trip to Fawkner Cemetery to visit the resting spots of my mum's family changed that perception. And in all places it could change, the "Pioneer Section" was probably the least likely. But here we are.

The Pioneer section is on "third avenue", and to get to my nanna Lorna's wall niche, I walk straight through it. As I was doing so, the above headstone caught my eye for obvious reasons, so I took a photo and looked up the names when I got home. I didn't assume a relationship, it was simply interesting that there was a Liddle in this section.

What did I find out? Well, firstly, Peter Liddle was from the Orkney Islands as well, and indeed, from Kirkwall, which was where Thomas Foster Liddle was born before his parents relocated to SA. Secondly, Christina was also from this area. Thirdly, we were related to both of them, as Peter's grandmother was a Drever, Christina's mother was a Drever, both of them had siblings married in with the Hercuses - which we also were, and so forth. 

I will be straight up: the Orkneys are isolated, and as such, there was a lot of intermarriage going on between the families. So much so, that what I saw was an intricate network of various family names, and therefore, quite trackable. Though I am yet to find out exactly how my lot are linked to both Peter and Christina, but when I can give it some real time, I will be able to figure it out quite easily.

I also found out that Peter was here for the goldmining. He died a few years down the track up in the QLD goldfields, of all places. There was another part to this though. Next to this grave was another grave for the Miller family (as I have since found out, more correctly "Millar", but spelling is not always consistent. Such is also the case with Hercus/Harcus). I found out that these graves are a pair, and were originally surrounded by a wrought iron barrier. The Millers were also from the Orkneys, and were, in fact, Peter's maternal uncle and his wife and children. We have links with the Orkney Millers as well, and as such, are related to this lot too. 

So in effect, I was not just looking at a Liddle relation who had, somehow, landed in Victoria before my Liddles made it to SA. I was looking at an entire family group of ours who came to Australia earlier. As such, I am fascinated.

I am yet to work out the exact degree of relationship between us and these family members, but thanks to a wonderful website on the Orkney families by another descendant of these families, I am looking into it now. Hopefully, I figure it all out soon!

Creeping around cemeteries - a supplement to the family history series

Even before I started picking apart the family tree, I have spent a lot of time creeping around cemeteries. It was a part of the ritual every time I would hit the homelands - going to the Alice Springs Garden and General cemeteries, calling in on the family, and reflecting on the times I got to spend with each of them. It's actually generally one of the first things I do when I touchdown in the homelands, and am heading into town.

The same didn't happen for my maternal side. In truth, not knowing an awful lot about them, and having not met the majority of them, the connection wasn't there. We also don't have a resting spot for my "Cocky" (pop) Ernest. A tragic turn of events means that the urn containing his ashes was stolen in a house robbery and the contents disposed of in ways unknown. As I have constructed the branches of the family tree, I have placed so many people from my mother's childhood who she remembers clearly, but had no idea where family members. Those familial ties were not necessarily constructed for her in the mix that was the Clifton Hill/Collingwood area in the 1950s, even though it seems she grew up surrounded by family. I have postulated that this is probably a little due to privilege - my Arrernte family, in the face of legislation, has had to fight just that much harder to keep together, and so knowing who was who became infinitely more important.

I have been trouping around my local cemetery for years. It is very close to my place, and due to it being teeming with rabbits, it's an excellent place to walk my Jack Russell x Kelpie. She's never allowed off the lead - I would lose her down a warren within seconds. The local cemetery historical society has marked out some key graves of community figures, complete with a storyboard, so it has become to me a place of stories. I walk through, reading the headstones and seeing how people have reflected on their loved ones. Hagiography is obviously a thing - I am yet to come across a headstone that says "the dude was a bastard and I am glad he's no longer tormenting anyone" - but everywhere you look, you see vignettes of lives lived. 

It was very recently that I found out that this local cemetery was not just a convenient dog-walking park for me. Rather, it contains part of my story. There is an unmarked grave in the south-western section of the cemetery that contains my great-great-great-grandmother Elizabeth Croker Waldron, together with one of her sons. Buried under the name of "Elizabeth Jenkins", Elizabeth arrived in Australia in 1863. She first married a John Sanders, and their oldest daughter Amelia is who I descend from via her marriage to James Emanuel Waller. Following his death, Elizabeth married a man named Henry Jenkins and had a further child, living to the nice old age of 89 years old. She died in 1925. 

This particular section of the cemetery is full of damaged and unmarked graves. Apparently, over the decades, it has been prone to flooding, therefore making the ground unstable. Locating Elizabeth has really just been guess work - I believe I have marked out where she is, and I have used a couple of cemetery vases to highlight the area. I have contacted the cemetery trust with regards to putting a marker up, have found out that Elizabeth is still listed as the owner of the plot, and therefore by descent, I potentially do have the right to claim ownership of the site and put a marker up. The problem is proving this - from her to me inclusive, there are six generations. Therefore, I am but one of quite a number of potential claimants, and I am certainly not a senior claimant. The rules of the cemetery trusts, I will return to shortly after this next story, but here's a photo of how I first marked Elizabeth's spot.

The second story I have is of my great-great-great-grandfather James George Waller. As previously mentioned, researching this line gave me a lot of joy as it was via this that I found out that my maternal side was not completely white, and that I was the direct descendant of a Dutch-Burgher revolutionary. James becomes an example of someone who was legally a British subject, but who was actually a non-white migrant who got into this country prior to the White Australia Policy and my theory here is that this history was allowed to be forgotten so as not to inconvenience family members during decades of racist policies.

James George Waller was listed as "unknown" regarding his burial site on findagrave. He also didn't appear in the cemetery trust search engines. I didn't see how this could be the case - he died in Melbourne and it was likely he was buried here. I tried a different tack - I searched my great-great-great-grandmother Caroline Waller (Hodges). I came across a gravesite at St Kilda cemetery from the correct death year, and then did a further search on this cemetery for the name "Waller". In the same grave, I realised that a man listed as "John George Waller" was interred. I immediately shot the cemetery trust an email listing a potential error, while a friend did a reconnaissance job for me on the site. He found it to be marked out, but in disrepair and with no headstone confirming the identity of the inhabitants.

The cemetery trust officer was lovely and helpful. She informed me that there was a third occupant of this site - an Elsie Coventry. Through my research, I was able to quickly identify Elsie as their infant granddaughter via James and Caroline's daughter Hariet and her husband, Ebenezer Coventry. From there, I obtained a copy of James' death certificate to confirm his death date and resting site details, sent it to the trust, and after 115 years of incorrect records, we finally had a resting site for James - the grandson of Quint Ondaatje. 

It was when I enquired about placing a monument to mark this spot for other descendants after so long that I hit a road block. According to, at least, the two main cemetery trusts of Melbourne, all burials are conducted "in perpetuity". In addition to this, all burial sites are also purchased "in perpetuity". So the person who owns a grave site can be completely different to the person who is buried in a site. This was the case for James and Caroline - the site remains the property of Ebenezer Coventry as he purchased it, and he retains this ownership despite dying in 1935. Despite me being a direct descendant of two of the interred people, I have no claim to this site as I am not a descendant of Ebenezer. I could get the site ownership transferred to me, but to do so, I would have to find a legal beneficiary of Ebenezer alive today, get them to prove their right to claim the site, AND then get them to also transfer their right of ownership over to me. In other words, I have buckley's. We're talking hundreds of people, countless legal wills, and so forth. 

There is no flexibility in these rules, even this many generations down the track, and no common sense allowances. I did write to my local MP outlining what I saw as a problem, and his office was incredibly helpful. Unfortunately though, they passed me to the Ministry of Health, and all I got there was a woman from the office repeating everything to me I already knew, and completely missing the point of why I contacted in the first place. I was not looking for an individual path of what I "might" be able to do, I was looking for governments to consider revisiting cemetery trust legislation in a bid to give some common sense allowances so a direct descendant, after a certain passing of time, may have some ability to claim a site and mark it. One remedy she offered included asking the trust if I could spend the money to put a temporary monument on the site with the understanding that if an owner does eventually claim the site, I would remove it. In the end, I just got frustrated with this woman and said "perhaps I can just put a makeshift wooden cross on these sites with the names on it like I have seen others have". She said "that would be illegal", to which I replied "yes, and that's my entire point for contacting, here".

On one hand, these laws are great. They mean folks won't just be exhumed when the cemetery feels like it. On the other hand, they are ridiculous. More people are undertaking family research than ever before due to the availability of technology, and there is no way for us to ensure our forebears are remembered, and others who come to this spaces can see these people existed.

Finally though, yesterday, quite by accident, I came across an anomaly. I visited many family burial sites in Fawkner cemetery, and the majority of these sites were unmarked. In my great-grandfather, Cyril Purser Tuttleby's, resting site, he lies with an infant son named Raymond, and...a complete and utter mystery woman who appears to be of no relation at all. I have contacted the cemetery for clarification here, as this woman's death certificate gave no insight at all as to why she would be connected enough with my family to have access to be buried here, 30 years after Cyril's death. Perhaps they will have something for me, but if not, what this means is that while I may not have the right to claim Cyril's site and erect a headstone on it, a cemetery may have the right to inter a random person in a burial site. I await their information eagerly...