Warren Snowdon (Lingiari, Australian Labor Party, Shadow Parliamentary Secretary for External Territories) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I thank and acknowledge the member for Barton for her contribution just then. She and I were together at Garma, along with our leader, Senator Dodson and Senator McCarthy. It was a magnificent opportunity for us to commemorate with his family and so many others the life of a remarkable man—someone whom I have met on a number of occasions.

Today, I again want to acknowledge the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people of this country and speak about a Yankunytjatjara man whom I knew very well—Yami Lester. His family have allowed us to use his name. I went to his funeral yesterday—a state funeral. I want to thank South Australian Premier Jay Weatherill, who was at the funeral, as well as Kyam Maher, one of his ministers. I also want to acknowledge the presence at that funeral of Minister Scullion and my good friend Senator Dodson, who was also a mate of Yami's.

Yami's story is an important story for all of us. He was born at Walkinytjanu Creek, which we visited yesterday, at Wallatina. It is about 470 kilometres south of Alice. Yami, as you may know—many of you might know part of his story, if not all of it—was born in that country to Yankunytjatjara parents. At the age of 12 he experienced what people in that region experienced, and that was the impact of atomic bomb tests at Emu Field. He refers later to the rolling black mist that came across the camp. He grew up as a stockman; he wanted to be a stockman. But these tests had taken place and he was ultimately blinded by them—first one eye and then the other. His life as a stockman, living on his country, was forever finished in terms of that type of work. Of course, the official secrecy act meant that none of us knew about any of this. Later, people said, 'While these things did happen, there was no impact on Aboriginal Australians.' What nonsense that was. Yami became a victim of that testing. He lost his sight, as I said. He was taken to Adelaide for surgery. He could not speak English. He stayed in Adelaide. Ultimately, he was befriended by the church community, and it is there that we learn about this great story. He worked. He became a broomologist. You might wonder what that is. Well, he was working for the Institute for the Blind in North Adelaide making brooms. I think he spent a number of years working in that place. Through the church, he met his first love, Lucy. As a kid—and we heard this story—he was riding his stock horse across the flat to chase this truck, with this young woman sitting in the back of it. That young woman was Lucy, who a blind man later met. They married in 1966 and had three children. They are three wonderful young people: Leroy, Rose and Karina. Their life moved on.

Yami became a very well-educated man. He moved to Alice Springs to work in the community development field for the Uniting Church, with the great Australian Jim Downing, at the Institute for Aboriginal Development. I met him there in 1978 or 1979. I worked with him and we became mates. He was a funny bugger with a self-deprecating humour, making jokes of his blindness. He'd say, 'I'm going to come around and see you' or 'I'll be around to watch TV.' Just magnificent.

In 1960 while he was in Adelaide, the coach of the Norwood footy club, the Redlegs, the pride of the parade in the SANFL, happened to be football's 'hot gospeller', Alan Killigrew. Alan was given that name for his noted team addresses. Alan, a victim of tuberculosis, which affected his spine, became friends with Yami and organised for him to become a member of the Melbourne footy club. Yesterday at the state funeral on the desert flat in the middle of South Australia, with all of these people adorned in a Melbourne footy club scarf—I had to do it—my Geelong heritage shook, but this was for Yami.

But he did so much. His life ballooned. He became a great advocate for Aboriginal Australians. He was a driver behind the Pitjantjatjara Land Rights Act. He was someone who was committed to Aboriginal people, despite his blindness. He had such enormous vision. That vision became shared by so many. He was the cause, in the end, of the Maralinga royal commission. He was the person who advocated in London. Imagine a blind man in London to advance the cause of his people. He became involved in many Aboriginal organisations in and around Alice Springs. He became a driver behind the development of the Nganampa Health Council in South Australia. This was a man who knew no boundaries, despite those limitations which affected him as a result of the stupidity of the country within which he was born, who did not recognise at that point his rights as a traditional Australian. Nevertheless, he fought them. He fought for those rights and he won rights. When I hear people sort of beguiling us with, 'You can't give blackfellas rights,' I think, 'What nonsense.' They are our First Australians. They deserve the recognition we have been so profoundly bad at giving them.

Yami fought with a smile. He made friends with those who might otherwise be his enemies and, by doing that, was able to do a great deal more than others could. He was someone who impacted mightily upon the lives of the Pitjantjatjara Yankunytjatjara Ngaanyatjarra people of northern South Australia—communities that I lived in and out of for some years. I am forever grateful for knowing Yami. I was reminded yesterday by a person he came to live with in later life, Bronya Dineen, after he separated from Lucy, how fondly he remembered the pork roasts at our joint—because that is what we used to do. He didn't mind a drink. Many times my office phone would ring, and a voice would say, 'Yami here, I'm ringing to ask you something.' It could be for anything. It could be for a bet on the Melbourne Cup or matters of great importance requiring government action. Sometimes it was just to have a yarn. He was someone for whom I had the greatest respect and admiration. His family are wonderful people.

Yesterday's state funeral in northern South Australia was the first conducted in the Pitjantjatjara language, the Yankunytjatjara language, as a celebration of his life. Paul Kelly was at the funeral to share a song with us, 'Maralinga'. It was uplifting. You could say so much about Yami, but to see the people he brought to his own country—born in that country, died in that country—and what did he die of? End stage renal failure. He had made the choice not to go and live in Alice Springs for renal dialysis, and, ultimately, it took him.

We can do so much more in this place. People think I'm mad, I'm sure, because I don't shut up about this stuff. For as long as I have got a breath to give, I won't shut up. These Australians demand of us the best, and we must do the best for them and with them and understand the priorities that they set are ones we should follow. Vale Yami. Yah! Good one.

Cathy O'Toole (Herbert, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I really appreciated and enjoyed listening to the words of the honourable member for Lingiari. I did not know Mr Lester, but I certainly knew of him. It is with great sadness and respect that I rise in this place today, on International Day of the World's Indigenous Peoples, on what is first-nations people's land and always will be first-nations people's land. In doing so, I acknowledge the traditional owners of the land upon which we stand, the Ngunnawal and Ngambri people, and I would like to pay my respects to their elders past, present and emerging. I would also like to acknowledge the Yankunytjatjara people of Mr Lester's homeland and pay respects to their leaders past, present and emerging.

Mr Lester was born in the early 1940s at Walatina Creek, an outstation on Granite Downs Station in far north South Australia. He lived a life of vital and committed activism and achievement, despite the hardships that he endured—another outstanding role model of first-nation people's tenacity and resilience. Mr Lester stood up and fought against the atrocity that was the British nuclear testing on the Anangu people's land. Between 1952 and 1963, the British government, with the agreement and support of the Australian government, carried out nuclear tests at three sites in Australia: the Monte Bello Islands off the Western Australian coast, and Emu Field and Maralinga in South Australia.

Britain wanted attainment of nuclear power and Australia was to be the dumping ground to help the British achieve their political goal. More than six decades later, the decisions of the then Menzies government still cast a horrible shadow over this nation. These decisions were made by a government with a political agenda for national security, and that tapped into the Cold War fearmongering. Menzies' decision forever changed the lives of thousands of people, and they serve as a timely reminder in this place that political agenda must never be placed above the lives of the Australian and first-nation people.

What was referred to by the Anangu people as 'puyu', meaning 'black mist', was a deadly cloud—as deadly as Hiroshima and Nagasaki. As a result of the black mist, Mr Lester lost his eyesight at a very young age. First-nation people, as well as Australian soldiers and civilians, were all exposed to radiation as a result of this political decision. Illnesses reported included cancer, blood disease, eye problems, skin rashes, blindness, and vomiting, which are all symptoms of radioactive poisoning. The Monte Bello Islands, Emu Field and Maralinga areas were all chosen due to their remoteness and being uninhabited. How incredibly wrong and ignorant that ideology was; there was no consideration for the first-nation people living on the land.

The disgraceful treatment by both the British and Australian governments occurred long before the failure of these governments to appropriately and adequately monitor and manage the safety controls. The abhorrent and irreparable damage started when the government forcibly removed the Anangu people in Maralinga from their traditional lands in the lead-up to the testing. The forced relocations destroyed the traditional, cultural and spiritual lifestyle of these Aboriginal families. The damage was radiological, psychosocial, cultural and spiritual. This change was profoundly negative, and, to this day, much of the work of lifting the living conditions for first-nation people results from the loss of traditional independence, dating from the 1950s. The British and Australian governments attempted to clean the site three times—in 1967, in 2000 and again in 2009.

Mr Lester was instrumental in the many negotiations relating to Aboriginal land claims. He served as an interpreter and cultural adviser between the Anangu people and state, territory and federal governments during the arduous legal battles to win the inalienable freehold titles for traditional owners. Through Mr Lester's hard work and campaigning efforts, and 54 years after the Anangu people were forcibly removed, they were finally allowed to return home—a home that was, in fact, an atomic test site. In reality, only some areas were declared to be safe.

This is where governments continue their ignorance, which stems back to the forced removals of the Aboriginal people from their land. What kind of a home is a nuclear test site? Seven hundred trials of air and land missile strikes were tested over the decade, releasing over 100 Ks of radioactive and toxic elements on the Anangu land. What could possibly be left? For Indigenous people, the land is Mother Earth. It is sacred to their culture. After 100 Ks of radioactive and toxic elements have been on and in the land, there aren't many trees left, there is no grass and there certainly aren't any animals. We can give compensation, but nothing will replace the land and the cultural and spiritual connections. It will never be the same home again. But the fight was not yet over. Mr Lester was pivotal in continuing the fight to ensure the gold cards were provided to cover the health costs of the surviving participants of the British nuclear test program. In May this year, I was privileged to speak to the bill which allowed for gold card coverage to occur. But, as Mr Lester said, we were 60 years too late.

Mr Lester's fight and strong advocacy work lives on in his daughters, Rose and Karina. They carry on the fight for compensation for the destruction and contamination of Aboriginal lands and the dispossession of the Anangu people. Karina and Rose are both continuing their father's legacy by staunchly advocating against South Australia's recent proposals for nuclear-waste dumps. I pass on my deepest sympathy and condolences to Mr Lester's family.

Tony Zappia (Makin, Australian Labor Party, Shadow Parliamentary Secretary for Manufacturing) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

It's with great admiration and respect that I speak of the life and achievements of Yami Lester, who passed away on 21 July. Can I thank my two colleagues who have just spoken ahead of me, Mr Snowdon and Ms O'Toole, in respect to him. In particular, I thank the member for Lingiari for providing his personal insight into Yami Lester. It just confirms what I'd already read and heard about him up until I put together my own thoughts about what I would say today.

A Yankunytjatjara man born at the Walkinytjanu Creek outstation in northern South Australia in 1941, Yami Lester survived the British nuclear tests at Emu Field in 1953 to become a leader among his people. I make that statement very clear for several reasons. I've had a considerable number of discussions with people who participated in the tests at Emu Field in the fifties and afterwards. It's a matter that I have raised in this parliament on several occasions and which I've spoken about, including only a few weeks ago. Indeed, only three weeks ago I spoke to a group of people who are trying to put together a memorial in recognition of what took place at Maralinga in the fifties.

The passing of Yami Lester is meaningful in so many ways to me as a person. While other members of the camp died horrible deaths at the time because of the fallout of the black mist, as it's been referred to, Yami Lester suffered permanent blindness when he was just 11 years old. Yet, instead of feeling self-pity about what had happened to him as a child, he went on to try and redress much of the injustice that took place. In my own speeches made in this place, I've referred to, mainly, our Defence veterans and government personnel who were in the area at the time and the treatment that they received afterwards from our governments and, indeed, from the English and Canadian governments, because there were members on duty from those two countries as well at the time.

I haven't said too much about the Indigenous people. The reality is that there were Indigenous people in the lands where the tests took place. I have heard unproven accounts of some of them being put on trucks and taken away. But the reality is that, even for them, the risks were barely minimised because, as with what happened in one particular case, as soon as the bomb was detonated and the plume went up into the air, the wind changed and went in the very direction of where people thought they might be safe. The Indigenous people of that land were some of the worst affected by those tests. In the 1950s it was very much the case that, if you were an Indigenous person, you didn't matter much.

It was in the 1950s and 1960s that we saw a number of Indigenous people, including Yami Lester, begin to take a stand and fight for their rights. We saw huge changes in the years that followed in the late 1950s and early 1960s, culminating in the 1967 referendum. Yami Lester was one of the people who were part of that whole movement. Indeed, it was largely because of his efforts that the 1984-85 McClelland royal commission into the Maralinga tests ever took place. From that commission, there was some compensation provided. Again, my understanding is there were some 1,800 Indigenous people in the area at the time, but I suspect that even those figures would be very vague. It would be difficult for anyone to say with any accuracy just how many people were there. Indeed, it would be very difficult for anyone to say with any accuracy how many of them died as a result of the tests. But Yami was determined to make a difference and help his people—and he did that.

Having done that, he didn't stop there and he didn't ever allow his blindness to stop him from trying to advance the cause and speak up for Indigenous people. He joined the Aborigines Advancement League as a young man. He did welfare work in Alice Springs for the United Mission. He worked with the Institute for Aboriginal Development. He served as a cultural adviser and interpreter for the Anangu people. He was a key figure with the Pitjantjatjara land council, which helped establish the handover of free title to the Anangu people. He helped the Mimili people take control of their own business affairs, and he campaigned for the restoration of the shockingly scarred Maralinga land. I can well remember the handing over of the Pitjantjatjara lands. It must have been around the 1970s. These were not easy issues to be dealing with at the time. But he fought, and ultimately changes were made.

He went on to be an anti-nuclear activist and Indigenous rights advocate and was awarded an Order of Australia medal for his services to Indigenous affairs. There would be few people who would be more worthy of that medal than Yami. Again, it was good to hear the member for Lingiari was able to attend the funeral that was held only yesterday in the APY Lands in South Australia's far north. Fittingly, I understand there were 500 people there. To get 500 people in the middle of nowhere to attend a funeral says much about a person. Those 500 people went there and farewelled him. As the member for Lingiari quite rightly pointed out, he leaves three children. And so to Yami I say: thank you for what you did not just for your people but for us as a nation and in particular as a South Australian for the Indigenous people in South Australia. It is because of people like you that the world often changes. To Yami's family, friends, colleagues and people I not only pay my deep respects but extend my sincere condolences.

Linda Burney (Barton, Australian Labor Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

My contribution is a brief one. I think there has been much said by the previous three speakers that really does paint a fabulously accurate, warm, enduring and respectful picture of Mr Lester OAM of the Yankunytjatjara people of South Australia. Once again, I recognise country and pay respect to the traditional owners of this land on which Parliament House is built.

I knew Mr Lester—not well, but I came to know him through the wonderful work he did in the education arena, which I was also working in. He was a gracious man with a melodious voice. He was incredibly intelligent, and incredibly patient and resilient, as everyone has pointed out. He was not only an effective activist; he was a very, very real community and family person. He never forgot that his place was with the community, and his Aboriginality was who he was.

His story is all too familiar to Indigenous Australians. He did suffer a great injustice, along with his people, during the terrible times of those tests—those tests that were not even known to be going on by the broader Australian community. It was an arrangement between the British and Australian governments, with no consideration or care for the first peoples, the traditional peoples, of those countries. In fact, white people were not known to many of those people. So not only the shock of those clouds was enormous but the shock of the people in that country was enormous. His family and his community did suffer a great injustice. He suffered in many ways and he used his suffering, turning it into—with inspiration—the advocacy that he used to fight and to do the amazing things he did with his life.

He didn't fight for justice for only Aboriginal people; he fought for justice for all Australians. And that was very much the work he did that led to the McClelland royal commission. That would not have happened without the advocacy of Yami Lester, and we as a country would have been denied the truth of what actually took place out there in those desert lands in South Australia. He has spoken about it, and we've heard about the black mist that he saw coming over, not just over him—it blew in from the south—but over his family, over his family's camp and over many other families.

As our previous speaker just said, who knows how many people died as a result of that? We know about the illness. We know about the subsequent blindness, the suffering, the vomiting, the diarrhoea, but we don't know exactly how many people were out there, and we'll never know. We'll never know the true cost of those terrible, terrible tests, and, of course, the efforts to clean up that land. People have spoken about the important connection of Aboriginal people with country, and that probably is the greatest injustice of all: destroying that country—but, of course, not destroying the songlines and not destroying the spirit of that country.

Yami Lester carried himself with grace and dignity, and with that grace and dignity, that intelligence, that persistence, he was able to achieve an enormous amount of things in his life. He carried himself with patience and dedication when he had every reason to give up because of his disability. But that disability became a strength that he proved to everyone.

We have heard of the many positions that he held. As I said, I came into contact with Mr Lester through my work in the education space and through his work as well. He took a passionate interest and advanced the cause of education for Aboriginal children. He knew full well that education was and is crucial to breaking the shackles of oppression. We all know that. I have heard many of our members in this place speak about that. He also advanced the cause of Aboriginal land rights within the South Australian government.

He leaves behind, as we have heard, three children, Rosemary Leroy and Karina. Those children are carrying on the amazing legacy of their father, and what a legacy it is. He leaves behind a legacy we should all work to continue to advance: of justice and equality, of no rancour and no meanness. That is the fundamental aspect of Yami's personality that made him the man he was: a remarkable Australian, a remarkable South Australian, a remarkable Yankunytjatjara man. If we all had just a small ounce of his grace, dignity and patience we would be greater people.

On the day of his death, as the member for Lingiari said, he had a wonderful sense of humour. I think it was on the ABC that there was a clip of an interview with Mr Lester. The interviewer said, prophetically, 'How would you like to be remembered?' He looked at the camera and laughed. He said, 'I want to be remembered as a good stockman.' That was Yami Lester.

Scott Buchholz (Wright, Liberal Party) Share this | Link to this | Hansard source

I thank the member for Barton. I thank all members who made a contribution to those two statements on indulgence. They were heartfelt. It does give you an insight into the contribution that both those gentlemen made to the Australian landscape and to the communities they represented. Are there further statements on indulgence for the death of Mr Lester OAM? There being none, I thank honourable members for their contributions.

F ederation Chamber adjourned at 17:42 .