At Auntie’s house, there are lots of kids—
brown, black, white and yellow too.
They play games and paint and do
all sorts of things that are brand new.
At Auntie’s house, it’s Christmas time.
We get to make the cake.
Takani is sad because his mob is late;
their car broke down at the old mill’s gate.
Seth, James and Angel played
and had some tucker before it got too late.
They ate berries so red they tasted like ice cream,
and sang songs that made the kookaburras laugh and scream.
The table was set real pretty too
but three chairs were now empty and Auntie was blue.
You see Takani and Nayrula with her long black curls
were going home to their mob,
out the back of Kalgoorlie, where Uncle Ron had a job.
Nayrula went running as the car pulled up,
with Takani behind her and a bag full of Christmas grub.
It was time for them to go back home
to people who loved them and had felt all alone.
“Merry Christmas!” they yelled through tears of joy.
Nayrulya’s chubby hands waved at them all,
as she held her dolly tight so she wouldn’t fall.
Uncle Ron opened the door for them to bundle inside
with smiles as wide as a crocodile’s hide.
“Bye Auntie, Angel, Seth, James and Malikhai,”
they yelled as they drove away.
James sat on the veranda and played with Malikhai
as clouds of dust rolled their way.
“Time to come in boys, give Auntie a hug!”
she called, standing real tall,
her apron bright blue,
her outstretched arms ready to cuddle them all.
Seth sat amongst the tinsel, toys and the tree.
He’d come to Auntie when he’d been born
and soon he’d go back to his mummy.
He wiped a tear away from his eyes;
he missed Takani and felt both happy and sad inside.
Then Auntie’s telephone rang as loud as could be.
“Hey Angel,” Seth called out, with a smile on his face.
“More children are arriving at Auntie’s place!”
Angel turned with a smile.
“I’m glad I’m at Auntie’s while Mummy’s in hospital.
It’s like a holiday and soon
my bed will be ready for someone else too.”
Auntie was no longer blue
as the car arrived carrying two.
A girl and a boy sat in the car;
they missed their people from afar.
Auntie kissed their heads and held their tiny hands.
“What are your names?’ she asked, smiling down.
A little boy, perhaps three,
held up his hand for Auntie to see.
A small cut was on his finger that she kissed all better.
He looked up at her under his dark lashes.
“My name is Zane and I’m three.
This is my sister—she’s five—Shiralee.”
“Pleased to meet you both. Come inside with Seth and the children and we will have Christmas and play with some toys.”
I’m a big strong boy today but part of my spirit stays with Auntie who nurtured me for a little while then sent me home to my mob where I belong. Merry Christmas Auntie!
About the author
Vicki Griffin with her mob comes from the Shoalhaven area – Tharawal tribe from the South Coast of New South Wales. Her Indigenous heritage inspired her to investigate her cultural and artistic talents and she began writing and painting.
Discovering more of her talents in the realm of writing, she enrolled at the University of New England and in 2006 completed a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Communication.
She also completed a course in creative writing and Indigenous arts and crafts.
Her book, Nanna’s Storm, was published in 2010 by Black Ink Press.
Vicki Griffin is married with four children and lives in Queensland. In 2001 she became a guardian of a Torres Strait Islander child and is leading him into his culture.