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FC: SOS! Save Our Stories

1: Just as the spyglass in this story allows the user to travel to a time and place created with the vivid word pictures crafted by Year 6 girls from St Hilda's ASG in Perth , so too do the multimedia enhancements they have encoded within some of the visual images. Use your smartphone or iPod to become a multimedia time traveller every time you see the smartphone symbol. Swipe the encoded image below to visit other famous portals.

3: Early arrivals came at Her Majesty's pleasure. Others have since arrived with a sense of adventure and hopes of acquiring work and land. Many hoped to find their fortune. Some have travelled to be reunited with family. Arrivals now seek refuge from war, hunger, political oppression and religious persecution. The objects collected by migrants, travellers and traders connect Australia to the world and times past. | Robin McKean

4: The water was cool. A soft evening breeze whispered around me. The glowing sun warmed my body, as it sank into the inky sea. As I walked along the sandy beach, I saw a fleck of gold. Floating by the water's edge was a golden telescope. Amongst the shells it lay, letting the sea lull it to sleep. Rocking to and fro, It emerged from the deep. I scooped it up, washed off the sand and put it up to my eye. I was transported to another world where I was on a ship. I felt a different breeze, more salty and rougher. The emerald green sea that lashed about looked stronger and tougher.

5: The sky was dark and murky; a storm was on its way. The sea was becoming threatening and the ship began to sway. Blurry visions swirled through my head and became clear with a thousand memories that people of the past held dear. I felt those memories fading away, fading after all those years. Like this ship has locked them up and now they’ve disappeared. This is how the story begins, trying to save the past, trying to save those old memories, trying to make them last Olivia Inkeringill

6: I raise the telescope to my eye - focus and refocus the lens. I can not believe what I see..

7: The spyglass felt its old, rusty metal being gently brushed. Someone was exposing it to the sun!

8: Shining through the small glass eye is a disjointed scene. Playing like a film without sound. A ship is floating. I lower the telescope and glance out on the horizon. It is not there. I look through the telescope again.

9: The spyglass hadn’t felt the warmth of human hands for many years. The hands grasped it and picked it up. Oh, the warm feeling of the sun! The spyglass felt it being lifted to the human’s eye. She was the one.

11: The spyglass was sure that this human would save the stories that the spyglass held inside its metal casing. As the human peered through the old spyglass, it opened the portal inside itself.

12: There is a sorrowful feeling in the air, as if there was never happiness in life. A plaque saying S.S. Tallenna is engraved above the captain's quarters.

13: The human took in all the mystery and memories of the ship that the spyglass showed. It saw the objects, the souls of the memories and heard the whispering of the restless stories floating in the ship. The spyglass remembered this all from years before, when it showed the portal to other humans on the beach, but none of them cared enough to save the stories within the ghostly ship. The spyglass hoped this human cared.

14: Rest | The telescope is transporting me. I can see rows and rows of cabins. I shake my head.. Am I hallucinating? No...

15: The spyglass could tell that the human felt troubled. It hoped with all its might that it would save the stories and objects within itself. And then, the human answered the spyglass’ wish.

16: Suddenly I am on the carpet of the passage way outside the cabins. What now? I look around. I walk the decks of the S.S. Tallenna. | Memories flood by me.

17: The human opened her heart and soul and let herself be sucked into the spyglass’ whirlpool of memories. As the human tumbled through the fragmented world of the time warp, she caught snatches of conversation from years ago, saw sepia pictures and faded newspaper clippings and let all the objects tell their stories. The caring human listened and remembered. She felt happy, sad, amazed and confused about the objects’ stories and memories. When all of the forgotten memories had told their stories, the spyglass let the human go.

18: I will cherish, treasure, share and remember all of the stories uncovered through the magic of my telescope. Sophie Colton

19: The human was deposited back onto the soft sand of the beach. The spyglass felt itself being dropped, but it felt glad. The human was going to pass on the stories, keep them safe for generations, and let them be remembered. For the first time in many years, the spyglass felt completely content. | Bethan Holloway- Strong

20: Down to the beach last night I came to feel the sand between my toes but I stumbled upon something and fell and hit my nose. When my eyes cleared, I bent to see what had made the slope and I found, hidden by the shadows a lone kaleidoscope. I looked through it eagerly to see the colourful view and as I pulled my eyes away, I gasped as the sight was new. I was surrounded by cabins Below the ship’s deck. As I walked to the top, I found this ship was not a wreck. I crept back to the cabins and peered into rooms. They were all empty and bathed in the light of the moon. However in each cabin I discovered one thing. I had some sort of feeling that these to shore I should bring

21: So I collected each item from dresses to silks from board games to shells from maps to quilts. I brought them to the deck and left them in a heap. I looked out into the city and down into the deep. I picked up all the objects. I picked up the kaleidoscope. and looked again through it. Suddenly I was back on the twilight shore holding all the objects. Now they were safe for sure | Ruby Wiese

22: ... a huge ship was sailing closer to the beach. It was named “Memories” and looked very old. It was just right there. Why didn’t anyone come ashore? The ship looked like it was going to crash onto the beach. | “Who is it that brings the telescope?” A dark, deep voice rang out. | ... lifted it to her eye and felt the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. It was too late. Before she had time to shut her eyes, she had looked into the telescope.

23: Abbey Leeming | "I can’t help but look at all these wonderful things around me. | This is extraordinary and I'm sure the rest of the world would love to hear all of these stories ...

24: Alice Johnson was in her dead Aunty Muriel's house trying to locate any remaining memorabilia left by her favourite Aunt. She rummaged through several calico bags and a white filet crochet shopping bag found lying around the attic. She was sure they would contain the secrets and mysteries of the life of her much loved aunty. "Oh my! Where is that nightgown? "said AIice. "I had it somewhere but I don’t know where it’s gone!" I see Edward has packed. That little prince! I suppose he’s stolen some of Muriel’s money so he can buy marshmallows for the boat ride to our new home in America! I don’t want to go to America to live! I don’t know anything about the people or their culture! Alice sat and sobbed. I’d much rather stay here in Australia, with its warm weather and nice, friendly people. Before I go, I must find something of Aunt Muriel’s. Something to remember her by, like a photo or clothes. After digging deeper into a bag, Alice shouted with delight. Inside was part of Aunt Muriel's trousseau. Alice looked at the pair of delicately embroidered gloves. They still looked beautiful. There was a lot of her trousseau here - but no wedding dress. She must have had it put away in another calico bag. Or... maybe she didn’t get married at all! Poor Aunty Muriel. Unloved, lonely. "I feel so sorry for her", Alice said to herself. | Muriel McPhee's Story

26: Alice had a closer look inside. She found a photograph signed Harrison Spooner. "Who’s this? " she asked herself. Must have been her cousin or some foreign relative. Alice kept looking. "And what’s this?" she mumbled while carefully dusting blackened pieces of paper from her hands. "It is ash. Why has Muriel burnt letters?" she murmured. "There’s so much here. Oh! and an un-burnt letter! Boy do I want to look at this," she said to that photo of Harrison Spooner she was clutching in her fist.

28: Harrison Spooner, Killed in action. | Yes! And even more letters! Love you, to my dearest Muriel, love, love, Love! Wow Aunty you were really popular! So maybe she wasn’t lonely. Maybe he dumped her, or it was the other way round. But how could that be if she kept all these love letters? Wait, Oh! A telegram ... | Madeline Lee

32: The Story of Thomas Lock Here I am now, stuck, in this horrible gaol cell. I’m glad you have come because I now have someone to talk to. My name is Thomas Lock. I was convicted of highway robbery. DON’T SAY ANYTHING! I know that what I did was wrong, and I now regret it. Look, if you don’t want to hear about it just GO AWAY! You want to stay? Okay, here is the sad, ridiculous story of my life. There I was. scuttling around for food when I found a carriage parked on the edge of the highway. (I forgot to mention a highway sorry!) I peeked in through the window: there was no light and utter silence. (Remember, I was in England at the time) I knew I shouldn’t, I mustn’t, I wouldn’t, but I did. I checked the door.it was locked. I then checked all the windows: Locked. I saw a chimney. I climbed onto the roof. (Why would a chimney be on a carriage? Don’t know? Anyway..) I then looked down the chimney: Safe and open. Down I went. I searched for jewels and I found a diamond necklace. I managed, somehow, to get back up the chimney. Then I ran for my life only stopping when I got home. The next day I went to a jeweller and asked how much the necklace was worth. It apparently was ten thousand pounds! I was rich. After that I went to buy some food for my poor empty tummy. There, on a post was a wanted poster. My blood went cold. A chill swept down my spine. Written on the poster was my name. How? My face was there too. (Just imagine that happening to you. Wouldn’t you be scared?) A policeman stood next to the poster. He was searching the crowd. His eyes as if ‘Magically’ found mine. He pointed at me. It was no use pretending. Out of nowhere more policemen came and surrounded me.

33: Before I knew it I was in a cell waiting for my sentence in court. (I knew I should not have stolen that stupid necklace.) It was horrible! The cell smelt of urine and I had the feeling there were rats. Finally they released me into court. I was itching to get out. At first, my sentence seemed okay, but then it was time to plead about not being hanged. The judges and jury agreed that I should be sent to Australia. At first, I was excited about going somewhere new. When I realised that I would have to leave my loved one behind I was the complete opposite. (Did I tell you I was in love with a girl?) So they locked me up again (this time in a different cell). I cried until I had no more tears to shed. ‘JINGLE JANGLE’! What was that? ‘JINGLE JANGLE JINGLE’! I found two pennies in my pocket. There was a nail on the wall. I decided to write my name, age, and how long I was in jail for. I took two weeks but I managed: WHEN/ THIS YOU/ SEE/ REMEMBER/ME WHEN/ I AM FAR/ FROM THE(E)/ THOMAS/ LOCK AGED 22/ TRANSPORTEDED/ 10 YEARS. (I’m making this sound as if it was nothing but I was heartbroken!) Before I got on the boat I managed to slip the tokens into my beloved’s hands. She was crying hard. (Never seen someone cry like that!) I was touched. I gave her one last smacking kiss full of love and (What!? Never heard of people kissing? You are pathetic) got on the boat. I set sail for Australia. | Kate Wilson

34: Iris Adams and Jim Craig met at dance in Sydney in December 1942. They were married on 23 March 1943 and Erin was born on 10 May 1945 in Sydney. Iris was one of the many war brides who decided to leave Australia to be with her American husband. Iris and Erin travelled to San Francisco on the SS Lurline, a ship which had been used during the war and was then employed to take Australian war brides to America. Erin first met her father when the ship docked in San Francisco in early April 1946. It was during her trip on the Lurline that Erin won the pig.

35: This pig of mine, A friend of mine I take him every where His stitching lo0se His ear obtuse Yet he does not care He’s travelled overseas with me Where harsh winds steal our speech He’s cared for me And spared for me And seen a whale breach This pig of mine, A friend of mine I take him every where His stitching loose His ear obtuse Yet he does not care He’s felt the pain of solitude Before he be-came mine He knows the sorrow of loss and love And leaving things behind He wishes for his father’s care As I often wish for mine This pig of mine, a friend of mine Will give me endless care. | Ariella Steinberg | Stories of Iris Adams

36: A War Bride and a Toy Pig Jim was after Iris The young Australian girl After four months together they married, And had a baby girl Hey little piggy Little piggy hey you I’ve won you fair and square With my red and vibrant hair Their daughter Erin was born in May Then the family moved, To San Francisco Where they’ll stay Chorus They travelled on the SS Lurine It was a previous war brig And in that time little Erin ‘Acquired’ the tail-less pig Chorus | To entertain the mothers and kids On board the giant ship They had a contest on the which child’s head Had the reddest tip Chorus

37: Iris recalls the contest clearly With the mothers and their babies Wetting their children’s hair To make the locks look like a ladies’ Chorus Within the group of red haired kids Her hair shone through the best Young Erin was just ten months old And won against the rest Chorus | Erin won the cotton pig With red and white spots The prize was kept for 63 years And their friendship was like a lock Hey little piggy Little piggy hey you I’ve won you fair and square With my red and vibrant hair. | Sofia Ottaviano

38: There’s much we don’t know ‘Bout the way things flow In the deep dark world of war. Bombs explode Muskets blow Leaving victims hearts torn. | Forced to stumble and starve are these lost ones As they take their journey lonely. | Henri Currie | Other War Journeys

39: The Diary of Ara Kohistani Fear is the darkest coldest corner of the mind. It spreads like rabbits, twisting through the brain, stripping you of all emotions, thoughts, senses and memories. It crushes all truth, light and goodness, leaving only darkness. You think that hiding will stop it but nothing can. Everyone thinks they know fear. They think it when they perform on a stage or when they are up too high. But real fear is when you know you’re going to die. When everyone around you is threatening to kill you, whether for religion, beliefs or race. 16th February 1999 My name’s Ara. I don’t know why I decided to write this. I guess I just feel that times are terrible and I want to write down everything that’s important in my life. I am writing this in complete secrecy. It is essential not to draw attention to ourselves in these terrible times filled with bloodshed, fear and war. My family are all ‘Hazara.’ In Afghanistan it is a crime to be ‘Hazara’. People believe that to end crime, all ‘Hazara’ people have to be dead. I am 13. My family consists of my five brothers, Armagan, Asa, Atash, Azar and Maddox, my mother Afshan, and my father Farzam. We are all constantly fearing for our lives. It’s the worst, not knowing whether you’ll make it to the shops and back unharmed. Anyway, to sum up, life’s tough. | Mia Dorsett-Sawyer

40: 19th February 1999 I’m glad you can’t see, because right now I’m crying my eyes out. I can’t help it at all. The stupid Taliban, the bloodthirsty, evil, malicious Taliban. They stormed into our home and beat my father, demanding to see my brothers and to force them to join their army against their will. But luckily my father knew they were in danger and he had sent them away. They said they were going to kill him if my brothers were not back in three days. My father had fled to Pakistan an hour or so ago. My mother and I are planning to leave soon. If the Taliban found all my brothers and my father gone, who knows what terrible thing will become of us. I hope we will never have to find out 22nd February 1999 My mother and I are in Quetta in Pakistan at the moment. It is slightly more peaceful but I am still on edge. I just can’t feel safe. Not while we’re so close to Afghanistan. Today my mother met a man who said there was a boat leaving from Pakistan to Australia tomorrow. He said if we were to pay $10 000 he could take us aboard the ship. We have looked everywhere for my brothers and my father but they are not in Quetta. If they were, we would have found them by now. If my mother and I want to go on that boat, we are going to have to sell everything we own. All the things those are precious to our family. We believe that my father and my brothers have gone to Australia. It is a huge risk. We might not even make it to Australia but it’s a risk we are willing to take.

41: 24th February 1999 The one thing you really notice on this boat is its’ terrible smell. I guess it’s from all the unwashed people on the boat. It’s so cramped here, there’s not even enough room to lie down. We are constantly bailing out water and this terrible excuse for a boat is rotting and rusting away with terrible holes and dents. We are all starving and thirsty. There are just too many people on this boat. We boarded this boat yesterday after just getting enough money for our passage. We were looking through all our things, trying to see what we could sell. I came across this red, spotted pig that my mother had made for me when I was little. I used to take it everywhere and sleep with it. I realised that I couldn’t sell it. I am going to keep it forever and ever, and I will give it to my children and they will give it to their children and so on. It will stay in my family forever. Today a young girl fell off the boat and drowned. Her family was screaming and trying to save her but the skipper wouldn’t let the mother jump off. He said it was too dangerous. I guess it really was. I had to look away to stop myself from crying and jumping in to save her. But that would just mean that we would both be dead. If only I knew how to swim. Everything on this boat is so dark, sad and gloomy. Happiness is hard to come by these days.

42: 25th February 1999 It’s so dull on this ship. It’s like a boat of gloom floating on a sea of sadness. Except for when we’re in terrible storms and the waves are crashing on to the boat and the wind is howling in our ears. Then it’s just plain terrifying. If only there was some way to brighten it up. This boat is half-sinking all the time and I have more than once feared for my life. I just want to arrive in Australia and get off this stinking boat. I can’t wait to get to Australia and start a new life full of freedom and education. It will be a huge change to everything I have experienced. When I think about how many opportunities I will have, I just feel overwhelmed. But for now all I have to comfort me is my little piggy. My mother is kind of away in her own little world. I think she misses my father and all my brothers. I spend most days and nights staring at my piggy, wondering what stories he has to tell. I love my piggy. He’s red and spotty, but he doesn’t have a tail. It doesn’t matter at all to me though. I love him. My little tail-less piggy. | 27th April 1999 Finally! After being on this terrible boat for months, we are finally being towed to Australian shores. I see a small island floating on the horizon. Our gateway to mainland Australia and our new and happy life. It seems so clean, bright and fresh. My mother is dancing and singing like a little girl. “We’re free, we’re free!”. Someone is coming aboard to welcome us to this new home. The faces are not what I expected. Where are those welcoming smiles and wh ...

44: Imagine this camera as old as can be... Once there was a man called Damien Parer He had a very old black and white camera. In 1942 war came to the Kokoda Trail and it was his the camera that recorded that tale. He filmed and filmed for days and days and watched many lives flow away. Because that camera reflected all of his past maybe just maybe his life may last. | Isobel Ferguson | The Story of Damian Parer

46: The Diary of Fang Wei March 3rd, 1880 Dear Diary, Today I was looking for my necklace. I stumbled upon something that looked interesting. I pulled it out of the ground and brushed off all of the dirt. It was a traditional Chinese bowl that looked exactly like the one my mother owned. She lost it when we first moved to Australia just before she died. I didn’t end up finding my necklace today. I will go looking again on Thursday for it. I guess I have to put the bowl away for now. I don’t want to get caught with it. I will ask Mr Cai about my find tomorrow. March 4th, 1880 Dear Diary, I was thinking about that china bowl all night. I was comparing it to mother’s bowl. Her name was engraved into it - Ai Qiang which means love and strength. I found no signs of engraving on this bowl as far as I could see. At 12 o’clock I took the bowl to Mr Cai in Richmond. Mr Cai was a good friend of my mother’s. Anyway, back to the point, Mr Cai said it could possibly be my mother’s china bowl. I was slightly confused when he told me, I mean I’m only 12, it just doesn’t seem right. I will do more investigating tomorrow. I have to go for dinner now,

47: March 5th, 1880 Dear Diary, I was talking to Mum’s old friend Quing Quing. I told her about the bowl I found and she remembered the day when she had lost it. She went into detail about it but I got bit side tracked. I heard something that sounded interesting. She said something about a break in at our house. They smashed the cabinet in which the bowl was in. They stole it and must have dumped it by a pathway. That’s how I found it. She didn’t lose it, but because I was so young she didn’t want to scare me by saying we were broken into. A few months later she died and this story went with her until I unearthed it once more. The engraving had faded away and I am still looking for my necklace but I'm very happy to have found another part of my mother’s history. This bowl makes me feel closer to her every time I look at it.

48: It was a cold and gloomy day, the wind was howling. I was snuggled in my bed, warm and cosy, the blanket wrapped around me. I heard faint sounds of marching. It was a disturbance to my beauty sleep. I pulled the covers up even closer, but the marching became louder, more distinct and incessant. Suddenly, I heard a sharp rap on the door. A soldier walked in and ordered me to get out of my bed and to pack up my belongings. I instantly obeyed his orders and got out of the comfort of my bed, but rather reluctantly. After about another ten minutes, I was ready, belongings packed into an old, battered suitcase. The soldier beckoned me to start walking. I followed the group, yet I had no idea where I was going. We ended up at a small harbour; a tiny, dirty boat was tied to a post. The soldier ushered us into the boat and we all got in. It was very cramped. There was no room to sleep or lie down; all we could do was to hope to survive. We were stuck in the boat for ten horrible days. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, we reached land. We stretched out onto the sand, glad that we all survived. It was then we heard someone crying. Lan’s father had died. She was heartbroken. After one hour, the soldier ordered us to attention. We immediately stood up. Standing up, we all felt weak and limp, but we had to keep on walking through the hot sand. We had been marching for about two hours, when the soldier stopped abruptly. We stopped with a start, and in front of us, there was a wire gate. I stared at it in wonder and confusion. After looking closer, I saw many people doing jobs, carrying metal bars and stacking hay. They were all small in stature, frail and battered. The soldier opened the wire gate slowly and ushered us in to the camp. He then said those dreaded words, “This is your home.” | The Story of the Dan-tre

49: Whilst in the camp, I met some amazing people; people who have changed my life. They’ve helped me, encouraged me and guided me to do the right thing. From my friends, to the soldiers, they were all wonderful. During that abhorrent time in the camp, I made an instrument. One of my most beloved possessions is bamboo. When I was packing my suitcase in Vietnam, I made sure that I had put seven large sticks of bamboo in my suitcase. I adore inventing, so at night at the camp, when everyone was asleep, I would work on this instrument. The instrument is called the ‘dan tre’ which, translated into English, is called a bamboo music instrument. The camp; it was horrendous. Every day, we had to stack the hay, carry metal bars, and run 24 km. There was absolutely no way of escaping these gruelling tasks. My only saving grace was the instrument. The soldiers were hard on us and they knew how we felt. Although we respected them, we feared them at the same time. When I finished making the instrument, I would play it; the melody was so sweet and beautiful to me. | Stephanie Tan

51: The joy in the children’s face I see As they sit around and listen to me I play this flute Bring joy to all On this cramped old boat that seems so small Whistle whistle whistle Toot toot toot As I play this wooden bamboo flute Music fills the children’s hearts Giving brand new hope through musical art It’s cold and dirty on this rusty ship There are no smiles or laughter as we rock and dip But we have to forget about the dangerous waves And be mindful of the way that we behave For the captains attitude is fierce and wild And when he’s on the drink he could hurt a child Chorus Waiting for the time to go by Hoping that no one will get hurt or die Wanting to get to Australian shores Ahead, a new life, a new life of yours Whistle whistle whistle Toot toot toot As I play this wooden bamboo flute Music fills the children’s hearts Giving brand new hope through musical art | Lily Paterson

52: The Thief on Board I regret what I didconstantly. Each day I think about what on earth came over me and how I possibly persuaded myself to do it. The guilt shrouds me like a dark thunder cloud reminding me of how cruel I was to an innocent workman and why on earth I did what I did just for a reward. It was mid 1835 and I was nearing the end of my trip accompanying Charles Darwin around the world. That day I was not myself. I was offered a reward if I was to complete a job. I accepted. Although I knew I should not go through with it. Something urged me to continue. I was told to rob the ship. As I walked down the corridor, I remember thinking to myself, “You don’t have to do this, don’t do this Beagle.” My feet kept moving, one in front of the other, towards the ‘special cabin.’ The guard stared me in the eye, obviously noticing my fear. “Are you alright, Beagle?” he asked me. I didn’t respond, I just kept walking towards him. I was only 1 metre away from him now. I looked at him in the eye, and swung my fist towards his face. He fell to the floor unconscious. Just think of the reward, I thought to myself. I took the keys off the innocent guard's belt and opened the door. I entered the special cabin with the 22 valuable chronometers and timepieces inside. I pulled my sack out of my duffel bag and shoved all of the shiny objects into it. I then ran out of the room and sprinted down the hall, knocking out security as I ran. I ran down three flights of stairs to the basement. I took out my key and opened the next door. It was a private door that only a couple of other workmen and I could access. I ran through the door to find the gang boss sitting in his big black arm chair. He was an Italian looking man with stubble and a short grey beard. He wore a black tuxedo and a bow tie. He handed me the money, “You did well, Beagle my boy,” he complimented me with a straight face. I put the reward offered in to my pocket. He then mumbled something in to a microphone. The doors opened and two security guards came in. They grabbed me by the arms and everything went black. Here I am now, in a secluded prison cell in a country many miles from home, My pockets are empty. Now, I am without a family, the money or a proper home. I was tricked. Olivia Rimmer

55: Dear Diary, It is me, Franxis Xavier Conaci, feeling so joyful since it is two years today that Salvado, a young man who has come to us from Spain, showed me the Christian way of life, | Dear Diary, Salvado has introduced me, a young Youat boy of the Victoria plains, to a Christian way of life. I am very interested in Salvado’s teachings. I study together with four others every day, in a hot mud-brick classroom. We study, we pray and we believe in good. All of our values are taught by one teacher. | Dear Diary, My four classmates have died since our arrival in Europe. This is a very depressing time for me as these four Youat brothers were as important to me as my family. As much as Salvado and I have prayed, the disease that they caught was much too powerful. | Dear Diary, I write in my den staring at my wonderful (well-deserved as my teacher told the class) medallion I got for achieving a distinction in my monastery examinations. I am looking forward to my return to Australia by ship to teach about the Christian religion. I will see my family, for the first time in many years; my mother is very ill and needs my assistance. | Dear Diary , I met Pope Pius IX in Rome today. He presented me with a black woollen Benedictine habit. His Holiness told me that ''Australia needs a second Francis Xavier. | Isabel Clegg

56: I left my home in Sicily I had to leave because of wars I travelled first to Sydney and then north to Queensland shores I kept moving to cut the sugar cane as this job I did the best and now I hope that when I am old Those stories will not rest. Sophie Anderson

59: The Story of a Quilt

60: 15th of July I have just managed to trade my pipe for a new pen, as I have no interest in smoking anymore and I don’t have the money anyway. I was talking to Valerie Paling the aid worker at this displacement camp and she and I were talking about the war. She asked me how I came to be here and I told her that my brothers were killed in the war and that they were my only family and that after several months the house we lived in was bombed and I had nothing left. I told her how I had found this place (through the paper). She sighed and said that we are all affected greatly by this war and unfortunately she is right. | 25th of July 1942 I have had such an idea! I found some old tobacco under my bed. I think I could trade it for some wool and other materials for a quilt for my plain room. Later I have just found some feathers and wool in the wooden shed outside. This is the start of the quilt. I have sewn them in the pattern of my favourite children’s story, Red Riding Hood. | 27th of July 1942 I was talking to Valery again and she said she has found a school in Australia to teach at after the war and offered to take me. I turned down the offer as this is my only home and the death bed of my brothers and I must stay here. .

61: 5th of August 1942 My quilt is finished at last and is hanging in my room on a small nail that I stole off the door handle. My life is soon to change as I am to go to work at a small orphanage near the port. Valery found a job and housing for me. I am so grateful. 2oth of August 1942 I am to leave at 9am. I am terribly scared of all this travelling but I guess I am back to the beginning. Just like after my house was destroyed and I had no idea what would happen to me. All I know is that I must stand strong and for ever know my place. Later Decided to give my quilt to Valery for her new life. She vowed to look after it forever and put it to good use. I am so excited as I am to board the train in an hour. | This diary is property of Olga Bosworth one of late carers who lived in this orphanage. She died on the 15th of October 1942 in a German bomb attack on the port. This diary will be buried with her. Written in by Nancy Bestial Aid worker for the ANZAC P.S We are to track down Valery Paling to tell her of this news and find the last surviving possession of Olga Bosworth. | Lara Plowman

63: I have an uneasy feeling about what might happen today. I grab my bags quickly. A rush of adrenaline comes over me and I snap back into my normal self. I grab the luggage and start to place it in the car. I come back to get my diving helmet and a rush of fear comes over me. I lift the solid helmet up, heaving it above my head so I can walk without the weight tipping me over. Soon I am walking along an unsteady jetty towards the boat. The water glimmering in the sunlight underneath the planks looks like a sea of blue paint. It looks thicker than water. It looks nothing like the water around my Kalymnos where I used to dive for sponge. I remember that all I had to do then was hold my breath and pick up sponges. I finally get to the huge boat bobbing in the water. It looks as if it is coming alive. The boat is magnificent. They must have spent millions on it. I try to imagine the work involved. As I step on to the boat I look at the detail involved in the soft Persian rug at the bottom of the steps. I don’t get time to notice it again as time quickly passes in a blur. Before I know it I have suited up and am wearing the hard helmet for the first time and they are throwing me over board. The cool rush of water submerges me fully. I know it is a risk going on a boat having only dived in the shallows but I have seen others do it many times. As I slowly drop to the ocean floor, I remember just why I have taken on a job like this. My wife and children and our new life in this country depend on the pearls I might find at the bottom of this ocean. | Louise D'Souza

64: Extract from the Frank Hurley Diaries

66: Mariella Panegyres

68: Novita Carolina | A Story Closer to Home

69: The breeze was calming. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. The soft sand carefully imprinted my foot and as I stepped, I could hear the beautiful laughing melodies of the kookaburra, slowly making its way through my ears. It was early morning and all was peaceful until I heard the voices of the tribal women calling me in for the freshly baked damper that they were cooking over the open fire. Before I went back to the beach, I went inside our Mia Mia and found the shell that was left in my possession after Kan-a died. Kai-a doesn’t know that finding this shell was the last thing Kan-a and I did together. We found it along the coast where it had been hiding under a cavern of rocks and slimy seaweed. It was my last living memory of Kan-a. I started to run towards the beach when Kai-a stopped me. He asked me to hand over my prize. I guarded it with my life. Kai-a knew what this shell was worth and he WANTED TO TRADE IT! I cried and cried right there on the spot and then ran away as fast as I could. These shells are used in ceremonies and are traded throughout my tribal country. They increase in value every time they are passed from place to place. Because this shell has no known history, Kai-a has the right to make it all up and sell it for as much as he wants and all because of how rare and special this shell is to our people. I kept running to the beach and back to where I saw my footprints. The kookaburra was gone. The wind was picking up, the ocean started getting angry, but I didn’t care about that right now. I had to think of a way to get Kai-a away from this shell and still be an obedient son. Hiding along the beach for the night, I spent my time hunting and spearing fish with a gidgee I had made from the branches of a tree. I wrapped the largest fish that I had caught in paperbark and cooked it beneath the gravel and found shelter in the cave of a giant rock. I used sticks and thick, long branches with lots of leaves to cover and shield me. It was there I sat, for hours, writing in the sand and admiring my prized possession. It was there that I understood what I must do. I ran and ran and ran and ran back to our camp sight. I ran as fast as my feet could carry me. I soon found Kai-a creating a new gidgee for my younger bahba. They were using a rock to make the point on his new weapon. The soft sound of crackles and the smashes of rocks filled the air. As I approached, I carefully pulled out the special item and gave it to Kai-a along with my permission to trade it for something more useful. I was happy enough knowing that the special memory of finding the shell could never be taken from me.

70: “Well, I brought you here to take all of these objects to the museum. They will have to be passed on for generations for they hold many memories of the past.” The voice called. “You will now look back into the telescope once more and return back to the beach. All of the objects will be with you too. Their stories will be able to be learned about once you get to a museum. Pass these stories on for years and years.” said the voice again. | Abbey Leeming

71: S O S! Save Our Stories ..._ _ _... ..._ _ _...

82: The Arrival by Shaun Tan and other Australian Journeys | If you wish to learn about the object, place the spyglass (smartphone / iPod) on it and it will explain the story to you.

83: Flash Interactives | Interact with the journey of the Hong Hai - the first case of refugee 'boat people' landing on Australia's shores. | The Wishing Cupboard is a story about the importance of family. The interactive explores the sadness of families who have been separated over time and space. | Explore the lives of two European women who lived through World War II before immigrating to Australia to start a new life.

84: Rest

85: S O S Save Our Stories

87: The fallen phrase puzzle shows the spaces for a statement or phrase. The letters are directly below the column in which they will fit, but jumbled within the column. ...

89: Down: 1. There are 23 of these. 2. This musical instrument was created by a migrant from which country? 4. His name was Minh Tam ...... Across: 3. He created this when a prisoner of war in the ...

90: http://www.sitehoover.com/bibliography/

91: FALLEN PHRASE How many disappearing stories can you bring back for the future? 14 | WORDSEARCH CLUES CHRONOMETER, COSTUME, FIGURINE, GAME, GAMELAN, HELMET, MEDAL, PHOTO, QUILT, TOKEN

92: Created by:

93: Year 6 2011 St Hilda's ASG Perth WA.

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Hilda Junior
  • By: Hilda J.
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About This Mixbook

  • Title: SOS! Save Our Stories
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  • Started: almost 5 years ago
  • Updated: almost 5 years ago

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