Honouring Nancy Barnes,nee Brumbie (1927–2012),South Australia’s first qualified Aboriginal Kindergarten Director

‘Clean clad and courteous’ Colebrook kids

Nancy Brumbie was born in the interwar years when South Australian Government policy regarding Aboriginal people was shifting from segregation to assimilation of people of mixed descent. To effect assimilation, however, government officials and missionaries consorted to separate children of mixed descent from their families in the far north of the state and institutionalise them. Girls especially were deemed to be at risk of sexual exploitation by white men and degradation in Aboriginal communities (Brock & Gara, 2017; Haebich, 2000; Schulz, 2011). Born at Granite Downs cattle station in the remote north-west of South Australia, three-year-old Nancy Brumbie was taken from her Yankunytjatjara mother, Munyi, in 1930 (Barnes, 2000). Her father was Allan Brumby, a white dogger (dingo hunter) who abandoned Munyi and Nancy’s three younger sisters to marry a white woman in December 1934 (Transcontinental, January 4, 1935, p. 2). Eileen, Mona and Daisy who were about seven, five and nearly three, respectively, were also taken from Munyi in 1936. Eileen was renamed Aileen and Mona was renamed Muriel (Barnes, 2000; Olssen, 1990). Now known as members of the Stolen Generations (Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission, 1997), the Brumbie sisters spent their childhoods together at Colebrook Home in Quorn in the Flinders Ranges, and later Eden Hills in Adelaide. All Aboriginal children were wards of the state until the age of 21, and subject to the chief protector of Aborigines in South Australia (Brock & Gara, 2017; Haebich, 2000).

Established by the interdenominational United Aborigines Mission (UAM), Colebrook Home was located at Quorn in order to isolate the children from their Aboriginal families and because the government refused to accommodate them in Adelaide (Jacobs et al., 1988). As with other such institutions, Aboriginal children at Colebrook Home were denied their linguistic and cultural knowledge, forced to learn English and ‘trained to think and live after the manner of white children’ (cited in Crooks & Lane, 2016, p. 184; Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission, 1997). Two missionaries, Matron Hyde and Sister Rutter, ran Colebrook Home for the whole of Nancy Brumbie and her sisters’ childhoods. Exemplifying continuity and stability, Hyde and Rutter cared deeply about the children as they inducted them into white norms. Their discipline adhered to standards seen by many to be appropriate in that era, including punishment with a strap. Daily routines were strict and infused with Christianity which was portrayed as integral to assimilation (Rintoul, 2020; Schulz, 2011). Nancy maintained her faith as a practising Christian throughout her life. The children were encouraged to treat each other as brothers and sisters, and allocated duties along gender lines (Kartinyeri, 2000; Olssen, 1990). They were also taught not to deny their Aboriginality and to develop a strong sense of self and equality with white people (Barnes, 2000; Kartinyeri, 2000; Mattingly & Hampton, 2008; Olssen, 1990). Out of earshot, however, the self-identified ‘Colebrook kids’ or ‘Colebrookites’ ¹ invented and spoke versions of their mother tongue. New arrivals also brought news of their Aboriginal families (Kartinyeri, 2000; Mattingly & Hampton, 2008; Rintoul, 2020). When Dr. Charles Duguid, an Adelaide surgeon and advocate for Aboriginal people, visited Colebrook on his way north in 1935, Nancy Brumbie begged him to bring back news of her mother Munyi (Barnes, 2000; Kerin, 2005). When her sisters arrived at Colebrook in 1937, Nancy was initially unable to communicate with them because they had no shared language (Barnes, 2000). Her sister Muriel recounted that she grieved terribly for her mother as she gradually learnt the routines (Olssen, 1990). None of the children’s coping strategies compensated for the destruction of family, language and cultural heritage, but Nancy refused to be defined by these losses and made the most of her upbringing, not to mention her schooling.

From the outset, the Colebrook kids attended Quorn primary school with their lunches wrapped in their own initialled white serviettes (Mattingly & Hampton, 2008). White parents objected to the Aboriginal children’s presence in the early 1930s, typically citing ‘poor health and lack of cleanliness as grounds for exclusion’ (Fletcher, 1989, p. 8; Quorn Mercury, December 4, 1931, p. 2; Quorn Mercury, March 3, 1933, p. 3). An investigation by the director of education and protector of Aborigines ‘concluded that the children were well cared for and better Christians than many of the local white children, and that the allegations were the result of “colour prejudice”’ (cited in Jacobs et al., 1988, p. 151). To mollify white parents, a cap was placed on admissions to Colebrook for most of the 1930s (Quorn Mercury, February 17, 1933, p. 3). Hyde and Rutter played their part by sending the children to school ‘clean, clad and courteous’ (cited in Brady, 1993, p. 136; Fletcher, 1989). Furthermore, they ensured that the children were involved in Quorn’s community life. Nancy recalled that they attended Methodist or Salvation Army Sunday Schools, joined the annual community excursion by train to the beach and celebrated Christmas Eve with everyone in the main street. In turn, local white people supported Colebrook with donations of food, wood and toys, and helping with the sewing. Hyde and Rutter also took the children to Adelaide for their summer holidays for several years in succession in the 1930s. In effect, the Brumbie sisters experienced social and educational assimilation while living in Quorn (Barnes, 2000; Mattingly & Hampton, 2008; Olssen, 1990).

Although Nancy claimed she was an ‘average pupil’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 24), reports from the Quorn Mercury show that she was very successful, ‘taking the same curriculum as white children’ (Crooks & Lane, 2016, p. 184). She had contracted polio before she was taken from her mother and learned to walk at Colebrook. In 1933, she spent several weeks in the Adelaide Children’s Hospital undergoing operations to enable her to walk more easily. She also achieved honours in spelling and arithmetic in Grade 1, repeating the achievement throughout primary schooling (Barnes, 2000; Quorn Mercury, July 28, 1933, p. 3). Nevertheless, there were racial slurs in the schoolyard and Nancy responded to teasing about her surname by changing its spelling to ‘Brumbie’ (Barnes, 2000). She passed the ‘qualifying certificate examination’ in 1939 and began a ‘commercial’ course at Quorn High School in 1940 (Quorn Mercury, December 22, 1939, p. 9; Quorn Mercury, July 4, 1941, p. 2). She was among the first Aboriginal students admitted to secondary schooling in South Australia.

More than a ‘flunkey’

Having reached the school leaving age of 14, Nancy Brumbie was removed from Quorn High School and Colebrook Home without warning in January 1942 and sent to Adelaide with one change of clothes in a suitcase to be employed as a domestic servant, being the fate of most Aboriginal girls (Brady, 1993). The UAM assigned her to the Richards family in suburban Kensington and ‘my adult earning life began’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 30). Her meagre salary was held in a bank account under UAM trusteeship and she required written permission to access her money. Fortunately, the Richards family treated her as a family member, introduced her to the Knightsbridge Baptist church, its youth group and Girl Guides, and she was baptised: ‘Now I fully belonged’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 54). In stark contrast, her next position was ‘servant not family’ and she remembered Matron Hyde commenting bitterly, ‘we are training them to be flunkeys’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 58).

In December 1943, Hyde and Rutter took the Colebrook children to Adelaide for their summer holidays and were accommodated at a former home for inebriate women at suburban Eden Hills (Olssen, 1990). They had run out of water in Quorn because of a severe drought, and the UAM requested that they remain at Eden Hills and attend the local school ‘where they may compete with the white children and learn to take their place among white people’ (cited in Education Department file GRG 18/3/1944/506). In the upheaval that followed, Nancy’s sister and other children were shocked by the institutional racism (Kartinyeri, 2000; Olssen, 1990). Anticipating objections from white parents, the education department refused the Aboriginal children’s enrolment at Eden Hills Primary School and their education was disrupted until Mrs Selina Friebe began a school on the premises in July 1944. Amidst the turmoil, Muriel and Daisy Brumbie were reported for breaching the attendance regulations (GRG 18/3/1944/506).

With Colebrook Home now based at Eden Hills, Nancy refreshed her connections with her self-described community-cum-family. Following an operation on her polio-affected leg, she recuperated at Colebrook Home in December 1946, and the Brumbie sisters attended a Christian Endeavour Camp together in January: ‘This was our first involvement as part of the general community since the non-acceptance by the [primary] schools’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 45). Aboriginal people who lived in Adelaide were excluded from hotels and most social and sporting organisations. Worse still, Colebrookites were deprived of family and kin, so mostly relied on each other and benevolent white Christians who supported the policy of assimilation. While residing with a UAM councillor’s family, Nancy ascertained that the KUSA playgroup course offered potential for paid work in the rapidly expanding pre-school sector (Barnes, 2000).

Unable to meet the demand for qualified kindergarten teachers because of the post-war baby boom, KUSA had commenced a 6-month ‘Pre-School Playgroup Leaders’ course of lectures and practical work, enabling women to work in kindergartens as paid ‘helpers’ (Advertiser, March 21, 1945, p. 3; Carmichael, 2002). Nancy completed the course in 1947 while working at Lavis and then Lucy Morice Free Kindergartens (Kindergarten Union of South Australia [KUSA], 1947–1948, p. 33). She was employed at Keith Sheridan Free Kindergarten and nursery school in 1948 and 1949 (KUSA, 1947–1948, p. 30). Amy O’Donoghue from Colebrook Home took the same course while working at Belair Preschool centre in 1949, replacing Nancy at Keith Sheridan in 1950, and their achievements were highlighted in the protector of Aborigines’ annual report (KUSA, 1948–1949, p. 25; KUSA, 1950–1951, p. 35; Crooks & Lane, 2016; Palmer & Ebbeck, 1990).

In essence, Nancy Brumbie and Amy O’Donoghue entered a field which was exclusively women’s work, namely early childhood education, but one in which white women’s racial privilege was taken for granted. Both young Aboriginal women knew that the playgroup course was not a teaching qualification. Indicative of the racism that underpinned teacher training, Amy’s application to the Adelaide Teachers College in 1950 was rejected on account of her Aboriginality. She persisted and became the South Australian education department’s first qualified Aboriginal infant teacher in 1958 (Palmer & Ebbeck, 1990). An equally determined Nancy reflected that ‘still driving me on was the need to make something of myself, to lead rather than be a helper’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 63).

‘A pioneer in a new field of endeavour for her people’

Although Nancy Brumbie was over the age of 21 and legally entitled to vote, the 1939 Aborigines Act in South Australia reinforced racism and severely restricted Aboriginal people’s lives and work. Aboriginal people could apply for the citizenship of a white person, but if successful they had to carry a ‘dog tag’ (certificate) as proof and refrain from interacting with Aboriginal people, including extended family (Brock & Gara, 2017; Mattingly & Hampton, 2008). Many Colebrookites, including Nancy, refused to apply, believing that citizenship of their own country was their birthright (Barnes, 2000; Rintoul, 2020). This legislation would not be repealed until 1962. Meanwhile, the Aborigines Advancement League (AAL) comprised Aboriginal and white members and was the key political organisation working for Aboriginal people’s right to equal participation in social, economic and political life from the mid-1940s. Because Aboriginal people were mostly denied education and financial resources, support from white members such as AAL leaders Dr. Charles and Phyllis Duguid was important. The Brumbie sisters were activists in the 1950s, along with Adelaide-based Aboriginal people from Point Pearce and Point McLeay reserves. In 1947, three Aboriginal members surveyed Aboriginal people and ascertained that their immediate priority was hostel accommodation in the city. The AAL raised funds for this purpose for nearly a decade while prosecuting the broader case for equality (Kerin, 2005; Rintoul, 2020). The Brumbie sisters participated in fundraising along with white organisations such as the Infant School Mothers’ Club (Barnes, 2000; Olssen, 1990).

Nancy Brumbie was also connected to the AAL as Dr. Duguid’s secretary and receptionist from 1950 to 1955, learning executive skills that stood her in good stead for future leadership (Barnes, 2000). She was the AAL treasurer in 1952–1953 and helped organise a major public meeting in August 1953, the catalyst being the Royal Adelaide Hospital’s (RAH) racist policy regarding training. The RAH refused to train Muriel Brumbie and other Aboriginal women as nurses (Olssen, 1990; Rintoul, 2020). More than 1000 people crowded into the Adelaide Town Hall to hear Aboriginal speakers present cases for educational, economic, housing and social justice. AAL membership doubled and some argue that this meeting was a turning point in achieving justice for Aboriginal people in South Australia (Barnes, 2000; Kerin, 2005; Mattingly & Hampton, 2008; Olssen, 1990).

Nancy also lived with the Duguids until 1955 when she was employed at Agnes Goode Kindergarten (KUSA, 1955–1956, p. 26). Through the Duguids, she met Aboriginal artist, Albert Namatjira, and a group of Aboriginal women from her mother’s country who invited her to Ernabella Mission. In 1955, she also accepted the Ernabella women’s invitation and was affronted by having to apply for a permit to visit the land of her birth. Her mother was absent from Ernabella, but Nancy was welcomed warmly by her aunties whom she had not seen since she was taken away in 1927 (Barnes, 2000).

In December 1956, Nancy Brumbie achieved her aim of qualifying as a teacher by completing the 1-year ‘emergency course’ at the Kindergarten Training College (KTC), an indubitably white institution in ethos and practice. The KTC had introduced the emergency course for prospective women teachers to resolve acute staff shortages in the 1950s (Carmichael, 2002). Given her truncated secondary schooling, Nancy found the coursework very challenging. Furthermore, she was ostracised by the white women students, most of whom came from wealthy families and used ‘skin colour … for objectifying differences in the social construction of “race”’ (Moreton-Robinson, 2000, p. xvi). ‘It was Mrs Begum, a Colombo Plan student who made me feel useful and part of the group … perhaps our skin colour bound us together’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 99).

Appointed to suburban Salisbury Kindergarten in February 1957, Nancy Brumbie became South Australia’s first qualified Aboriginal kindergarten director, leading and teaching with two white assistants and 50 white children (KUSA, 1956–1957, p. 38). She reflected that her ‘chosen career was work in the interests of young children … I had not known my mother … [but] I could strengthen the mother–child bond of other children I had so deeply missed’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 101). A journalist subsequently interviewed Nancy and nominated her as ‘a pioneer in a new field of endeavour for her people’ (Advertiser, December 4, 1958, p. 6). Revealing that she ‘had no choice but to be conscious of white knowledges and behaviour’ (Moreton-Robinson, 2000, p. 20), Nancy ‘said that when she started at Salisbury she called a parents meeting and discussed her position frankly with them’ (Advertiser, December 4, 1958, p. 6). As other Aboriginal women ‘pioneers’ in their fields have pointed out, there is always pressure to perform in ways that do not elicit approbation (Koori Mail, June 15, 2005, p. 38; Moreton-Robinson, 2000; Rintoul, 2020). In Brumbie’s case, her sisters and Colebrookites, Christian networks, the AAL and the Duguids were crucial sources of social and emotional support. Proud of her Aboriginality and professional qualifications, Nancy was determined to work in the interests of Aboriginal and white children and keep her commitments to the AAL. For example, some weekends she relieved the matron of the AAL’s Wiltja Hostel for rural Aboriginal students (Barnes, 2000).

Brumbie was director of Salisbury Kindergarten for 2 years during which she was drawn into KUSA’s initial engagement with the early education of Aboriginal children. From the early 20th century, KUSA’s focus had been working-class white children in Adelaide rather than rural South Australia, and never Aboriginal children. In 1958, the Point Pearce Aboriginal community approached KUSA to support their new kindergarten. Accompanied by Nancy, KUSA’s pre-school advisor, Kathleen Mellor, visited Point Pearce (Palmer & Ebbeck, 1990). Rather than wholeheartedly embracing Aboriginal initiative, Mellor’s racial prejudice came to the fore. She reported that ‘many unknown difficulties are likely to arise in this undertaking, but we believe that the assimilation of these children into our community is a challenge that we must accept and we look forward to development in this new area’ (KUSA, 1957–1958, p. 23). When the Point Pearce kindergarten affiliated with KUSA in 1959, Brumbie declined the position as its director. Instead, she joined the Commonwealth Government’s teaching service as the foundation director of Ida Standley Preschool in Alice Springs (Palmer & Ebbeck, 1990).

‘A bridge between cultures of feeling and officialdom’

The Northern Territory had been administered by the Commonwealth Government since 1911. In 1953, the federal minister for the Northern Territories, (Sir) Paul Hasluck, ‘oversaw a new ordinance … intended to remove race from the legislation and usher in a new period of assimilation’ (Haebich, 2008, p. 194). Pre-school education benefitted from funding and was administered by the welfare department. Ida Standley Preschool was the first to be dedicated to Aboriginal children and was located at the Gap on the outskirts of Alice Springs. Here, Aboriginal families of mixed descent were being housed in austere government cottages in line with assimilation policy, but subjected to surveillance by the welfare department (Haebich, 2000). Among them were likely Nancy’s sister Daisy Hampton (nee Brumbie), her husband and young children. A photo of Nancy and children at Ida Standley Preschool was included in the pamphlet Fringe Dwellers which was published and distributed widely by Hasluck to elaborate the benefits of assimilation (Haebich, 2000). However, Nancy recalled that it was ‘a time when community and government attitudes seemed to lag far behind legislative changes’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 106).

When Nancy initially reported to the welfare department, white administrators refused to acknowledge her as the pre-school director because of her Aboriginality and subjected her to questions that would never have been asked of a white professional. Visitors to the pre-school constantly assumed that she was an assistant rather than the director, and thus had to be redirected by her white assistant, Janet Weir. With the support of artist Rex and Bernice Batterbee, with whom she lived for the first 3 months, and her Colebrook friend, Myra Ah Chee, who was the caretaker and whose son Paul attended the pre-school, Nancy Brumbie gradually earned the respect of government officials (Barnes, 2000; Kerin, 2005).

With Aboriginal parents, however, Nancy had an affinity because many had been removed from their families and raised in missions or the Bungalow in Alice Springs (Haebich, 2000). Believing that ‘the very essence of successful work is to establish this cooperation’, she sought ‘to win the confidence of parents and understand their difficulties’ by visiting mothers at home, organising socials and welcoming them into the pre-school (Brumbie, 1969, p. 150). Refusing ‘segregation’, she insisted that Ida Standley Preschool enrol Aboriginal and white children, with some of the former being brought by taxi each day (Barnes, 2000). Pedagogically progressive, she conceptualised the child as an active participant in the learning process, which entailed gradually introducing the norms of white society: ‘I was determined that each child should be accepted just as he [sic] was and that cleanliness by our standards should be achieved only in an atmosphere of relaxation and friendliness. So showers were introduced as an extension of water play’ (Brumbie, 1969, p. 150). Conceptualising her role as a ‘bridge-builder’, Nancy used her white upbringing, professional qualifications and progressive pedagogy to facilitate her people’s access to improved health and education (Barnes, 2000; Schulz, 2011). She was among many Aboriginal people who ‘advocated for the promised benefits of assimilation without surrendering their Aboriginal identity’ during this era (Haebich, 2008, p. 274). Nancy did question whether the adoption of white-Australian standards was ‘always true advancement’, but concluded that ‘for most Aboriginal people, there is no choice’ (Brumbie, 1969, p. 147).

Nancy spent 4 years as director of Ida Standley Preschool and was possibly the first qualified Aboriginal pre-school director in the Northern Territory (Centralian Advocate, November 16, 2012, p. 14). But the ‘struggles to serve all the children and to be a bridge between cultures of feeling and officialdom took its toll’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 103). Besides leading the pre-school, she established an Aboriginal Girl Guide group, maintained her church affiliations and networks with her sisters and Colebrookites and met several Arrernte artists through her association with the Batterbees. She also met her mother Munyi’s Aboriginal husband, Paddy Uluru, and her half-brother Richard who sought her out at the pre-school. After four gruelling but rewarding years, she had saved enough money to spend 1963 travelling in Europe (Barnes, 2000).

Shouldering responsibility as KUSA’s ‘regional director’

Nancy worked in Adelaide’s Gowrie Centre in 1964 and participated in the AAL (Carmichael, 2002). Indicative of the diversity of Aboriginal politics in South Australia, a group of Aboriginal people including Nancy’s sister Aileen and brother-in-law Malcom Cooper formed the Aborigines Progress Association (APA) in 1964. AAL and APA memberships and agendas overlapped with the APA pursuing additional issues such as police violence and land rights. Nancy joined the APA whose meetings were often held at the Coopers’ home but she aligned more closely with the AAL. The APA also spawned the Aboriginal Education Foundation (AEF): Pre-school education was prioritised, bringing it within KUSA’s ambit. Dissatisfied with the male-dominated APA leadership, Gladys Elphick (who had also retained her AAL membership) formed the Council of Aboriginal Women of South Australia in 1966 (Kerin, 2005; Rintoul, 2020). In essence, Aboriginal people were voicing multiple demands for equality during the lead up to the 1967 referendum which finally recognised their status (Haebich, 2000, 2008). The increasing attention to Aboriginal education brought new responsibilities for Nancy.

In 1964, the South Australian department of Aboriginal affairs requested KUSA’s advice regarding pre-school education for Aboriginal children, and Nancy accompanied pre-school advisor Kathleen Mellor and departmental personnel on a tour of Aboriginal reserves. Although Mellor was ‘horrified to hear the decision of the department’, she conceded that KUSA could no longer ‘ignore’ Aboriginal children (cited in Palmer & Ebbeck, 1990, p. 5). Early in 1965, Nancy was appointed as KUSA’s ‘regional director’ on account of her unique combination of Aboriginality, professional qualifications and experience. Furthermore, she became the first Aboriginal woman appointed to the South Australian department of Aboriginal affairs ‘Advisory Board’ in April 1965 (Advertiser, April 23, 1965, p. 9).

As regional director from 1965 to 1967, Nancy advised kindergartens attended by Aboriginal and white children and worked with Aboriginal kindergartens and playgroups on reserves, including in her own country in the remote north-west of the state (KUSA, 1965, p. 18). The AEF paid the fees and transported Aboriginal children to their nearest kindergarten, and Nancy recommended Aboriginal families for this support (Carmichael, 2002). Nancy toured rural areas, journeying twice to Amata where she worked side-by-side with Nganyintja Ilyatjari and Aboriginal children for some weeks: ‘After I had observed their activities and had established a good relationship with the children, I gradually introduced new ideas based on my understanding of their environment’ (Brumbie, 1969, p. 148). The children were more skilled in some activities than their white counterparts, and Nancy surmised that her guidance was ‘acceptable … because Nganyintja and the parents recognised my kinship’. Furthermore, her mother Munyi was contacted but unable to travel to Amata during the first visit. They reconnected at Ernabella during Nancy’s second visit, their first meeting since Nancy was taken away in 1930: ‘I recognised her immediately … I could see in her my own self’. Tragically unable to communicate freely because they had no shared language, they ‘just sat quietly’ with Nancy showing photos of her sisters and Munyi’s grandchildren. They met only once more before Munyi’s death in 1976 (Barnes, 2000, pp. 165–166).

In August 1966, Nancy, being one of only two Aboriginal pre-school advisers in Australia, was invited to address a seminar at Monash University’s ‘Centre for Research into Aboriginal Affairs’. Her presentation combined research and reports about Aboriginal education with her practical experiences in child-centred progressive education at Ida Standley Preschool and with Nganyintja Ilyatjari (Brumbie, 1969). According to May Miller who was Western Australia’s first qualified Aboriginal teacher, Nancy’s presentation ‘offered a great deal of hope for an intelligent approach to Aboriginal infant education through culture’ (Brumbie, 1969, p. 290; Haebich, 2008).

Nancy Brumbie was thoroughly committed to enabling Aboriginal Australians to access the same rights and privileges as white people and shouldered much of the responsibility for KUSA’s engagement with Aboriginal pre-school education. While she appreciated the opportunities made available to her as regional director, being the only Aboriginal woman in her line of work was draining, and there was always the spectre of racism (Haebich, 2000, 2008; Moreton-Robinson, 2000). White parents sometimes objected to Aboriginal children’s enrolment and the transport provided by the AEF which enabled their attendance (Carmichael, 2002). Constant travel throughout South Australia, along with absences from Adelaide, was exhausting. Additionally, Nancy’s approaching marriage to Jeff Barnes was a factor in her decision to step down as regional director at the end of 1967 (Barnes, 2000). Much to KUSA’s relief, the education department accepted responsibility for the pre-school education of Aboriginal children on reserves in 1969 and then Point Pearce kindergarten in 1970 (Palmer & Ebbeck, 1990).

‘A retired kindergarten teacher with specific interests in Aboriginal education’

Nancy and Jeff Barnes had known each other from their earliest days in the AAL, and Jeff was the first Aboriginal man appointed the South Australian department of Aboriginal affairs Advisory Board in 1963. Nancy and Jeff married at Knightsbridge Baptist Church in May 1968 (Barnes, 2000). Nancy remained a kindergarten director until 1975 when Jeff was appointed to the Commonwealth Employment Service in Alice Springs (KUSA, 1969, p. 25; Aborigine News, July 1975, p. 8). Here, Nancy worked part-time in the community welfare department’s ‘homemakers programme training young Aboriginal mothers living in camp conditions to move into housing’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 132).

Following Jeff’s early retirement for health reasons, Nancy and Jeff lived in Quorn from 1978 to 1989, coincidentally arriving in time for Quorn’s centenary celebrations which were attended by several Colebrookites (Aborigine News, September 1978, p. 2). ‘As a retired kindergarten teacher with specific interests in Aboriginal education’, Nancy deployed her knowledge, executive skills and experience widely during their residency (Barnes, 2000, p. 137). She took weekly religion classes at Quorn area school and collaborated with Aboriginal education workers to mount an exhibition of Aboriginal arts for NAIDOC week. She was elected as an ‘elder’ in the Uniting Church, organised fellowship meetings for Aboriginal families and initiated an ‘Odd Shop’ selling second hand clothes and goods (Aborigine News, March 1983, p. 2). She cooperated with Colebrookites to purchase ‘our childhood home’ in Quorn with assistance from the Aboriginal development commission, restore it as a holiday home and camping ground and add permanent residences (Barnes, 2000; Olssen, 1990). She insisted on celebrating the 60th anniversary of Colebrook Home in Quorn rather than Eden Hills and played a leading role in organising a reunion and church service (Barnes, 2000). At the same time, she was working closely with Christobel Mattingley, one of the authors of Survival in Our Own Land (Barnes, 2000; Mattingly & Hampton, 2008). Updated and cited frequently (e.g. Brock & Gara, 2017; Haebich, 2000; Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission, 1997; Kerin, 2005), this book encapsulates Aboriginal diversity and agency in South Australia since 1836. Nancy organised the book launch at Quorn Town Hall in July 1988 and worked tirelessly to increase its sales (Barnes, 2000).

Concerned about diminishing medical services in Quorn, Nancy and Jeff moved to suburban Salisbury in 1989, and Nancy plunged headlong into educational work in its broadest sense. With support, she ‘ended up taking over Salisbury library’ in September 1989 to celebrate National Aborigines and Islanders Day Observance Committee (NAIDOC) week (Barnes, 2000, p. 153). She was involved in launching the Aboriginal Christian Congress in Salisbury and an Aboriginal education programme at a local school. In 1994, Tandanya National Aboriginal Cultural Institute in Adelaide marked the 60th anniversary of the introduction of western art to the Arrernte people and Nancy spoke about Albert Namatjira (Barnes, 2000).

Composed over 4 years with input from several friends, and concomitant with Bringing Them Home (Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission, 1997), Nancy published her autobiography in 2000. The title, Munyi’s Daughter: A Spirited Brumby, highlighted her Aboriginal heritage and strong sense of self. Nancy’s separation from her mother was woven through the narrative along with resilience in the face of racism. She portrayed her childhood in Quorn as a time of stability provided by Matron Hyde and Sister Rutter, thereby laying the foundation for her subsequent success as an adult who ‘bridged the gap between two or more worlds. I am sure I succeeded as a professional woman because of my birth and my heritage, both Aboriginal and English’ (Barnes, 2000, p. 174).

Munyi’s Daughter is not a story of ongoing trauma. Instead, and in keeping with her deep Christian faith, Nancy opened chapter one with the statement, ‘we are referred to as “The Stolen Generations”. I consider myself “Saved”’; and subsequently explained that she and others were ‘saved for a purpose – for the sake of two races’ (Barnes, 2000, pp. 1, 47; Mattingly & Hampton, 2008, p. 215). Published amidst the Howard Liberal Government’s refusal to apologise and consider reparation to the Stolen Generations, Nancy’s opening statement has been taken out of context and exploited repeatedly by the conservative press to dispute the veracity of the Stolen Generations’ experiences (Hosking, 2001; Kerin, 2005; Rintoul, 2020). Far from condoning the practices of the past, Nancy Barnes’ autobiography is testimony to an Aboriginal woman’s agency and lifelong commitment to addressing the inequalities between Aboriginal and white Australians through education.

Conclusion

Deprived of her Aboriginal family, culture and language, and rebelling against white Australians’ perception of domestic service as the only appropriate work for Aboriginal girls, Nancy Barnes (nee Brumbie) first entered the field of early childhood education in 1947, well before KUSA acquiesced to consider Aboriginal pre-school children. She qualified as South Australia’s first Aboriginal kindergarten director in December 1956, two decades before there were initiatives to train Aboriginal people as teachers (Palmer & Ebbeck, 1990). Her initial entry into early childhood education was facilitated by her gender, but Nancy did not forgo her Aboriginal identity, and performed her life and work as a witness to being Aboriginal in the era of assimilation policies and practices. Being an Aboriginal woman in white institutions, namely KUSA and the Commonwealth welfare department, she endured the strain of everyday racism as director of Salisbury Kindergarten, foundation director of Ida Standley Preschool and regional director, while making the most of her qualifications and experience to serve Aboriginal and white Australians. Her commitments to education more broadly were evident in her AAL activism and voluntary work across her lifetime. When Nancy died in 2012, there was a tribute from teachers and students of Ida Standley Preschool and a lengthy article entitled ‘A champion of equality’ in the Centralian Advocate (November 16, 2012, pp. 14, 24) but no further public recognition of her life and work. Pushing at the boundaries of what was deemed acceptable for Aboriginal women of her generation, Nancy Barnes deserves to be honoured more widely for her pioneering work in early childhood education.