Fishing With Nana

The History Under Your Feet

Maurice Serico

The Western Echo is thrilled to present a short series of articles featuring local First Nations stories, history, and culture. This has been made possible through a generous grant received from the Local & Independent News Association (LINA). This story is the third in the series by local Aboriginal man Maurice Serico. 

My Nana loved fishing. When we lived in a house that backed on to Enoggera Creek she would always take us fishing in the creek behind our place. She always arrived not with luggage for her visits but baskets. Up to half a dozen baskets, each covered over with a tea towel. From one of those baskets she would produce her “fishing line”. 

When I say fishing line I actually mean a small glass Coca Cola bottle with a length of fishing line and one sinker and one hook on it. That was all she ever used when fishing in “our creek” as we called it. And, despite our father’s discussions about his fishing gear and what should and should not work, Nana always caught something. 

The two most remarkable catches were an eel, enormously long and too difficult to prepare for a family meal, and a catfish. The catfish, likewise, appeared enormous, like Dr Seuss’ fish out of water, but manageable. I recall it being transferred from a half-filled bucket into the kitchen sink, thrashing madly with its whiskers and spiky fins and long, eel like tail flailing. And my mother gaping at the behemoth, wondering how to prepare it and cook it, seeing as she had never seen a catfish before. I don’t recall the meal. 

We saw plenty of other life in the creek. Turtles (or tortoises, I never know) would betray their presence by a short trail of one or two close, small bubbles on the creek’s surface and then maybe two beady eyes breaking the surface. Sometimes you could even hear them go plop! as they jumped off a fallen log, where they had been resting and into the water to escape the approaching humans. 

In the cleaner areas with gravelly beds you would see black mussels protruding from the rocks. They would be in clusters along the walls. Swimming freely in these parts of the creek were what we called “water scorpions” or “darning needles”, large, black aquatic beetles with massive pincers and menacing long spines at the back that terrified us. Oh, and yabbies. 

These were some of the water creatures that have lived in Enoggera Creek for thousands of years, except the water scorpions, I wouldn’t want to eat one of them. They fed the First Nations people passing through the area on their way to or from points north, such as the Glasshouse Mountains or the Bunya Festivals. As Enoggera Creek was the main thoroughfare, meals along its banks were chosen, so as not to disrupt the journey, so fish was often the meal of choice. It’s much like a roadside fast food shop now, if a little less polluting. 

Our Nana had been the person who taught us how to look out for these animals and she shared the tricks for spotting them. She told us that she had been doing this since she was a little girl, only then it wasn’t just for enjoyment, but dinner for her family. She never explained more. 

Many years later, after Nana’s visits with her Mary Poppins like baskets we found out what she meant. Nana had been born in the first decade of the twentieth century on the banks of the Mary River, inland from Gympie near a little place called Tuchekoi. Her mother was a member of the Gubbi Gubbi (Kabi Kabi) tribe and she and my Nana and my Nana’s little brother, Uncle Cliff, all spoke Gubbi Gubbi at home in their little shed by the river. They did not have much money but the lush temperate rainforest around them, as it was then, provided them with all the fruit and vegetables they needed. They would fish for their dinner from the Mary River, being careful not to take the lungfish, a sacred and important fish to the Gubbi Gubbi. 

Aggressive state government policies in the 1910s saw the establishment of the Aboriginal reserve system throughout Queensland. This affected even my Nana’s family at Tuchecoi. They and others in the area were either marched or driven in horse drawn carts to Barambah Mission, now called Cherbourg. This was a very different place, dry with no rainforest and severe restrictions on the residents’ movements were in place. This meant people could not go freely to gather bush tucker or fish or hunt but were made to work on farms and in other industries. Food was rationed out from a building at Cherbourg called the Ration Shed. The rations were extremely limited, even though it wasn’t war time, the only time that rations were applied to the entire Australian population. Any supplement to the meagre rations was welcome. Fishing by the children after or before school thus became valuable and needed. 

Years later my Nana was able to live freely again on a creek. This time it was Philpot Creek near Munduberra. She returned to fishing and often spoke about the dewfish (eel tailed catfish), perch and other fish she caught. 

Fishing for First Nations people was and still is important. Although fish traps are found in the Brisbane area, including North Pine River, there do not appear to have been any in Enoggera Creek in The Gap. I think this may have been because it was an area for passing through and fish traps are demanding in time and labour to create, and also the regular flooding of the creek. 

Next time you look at the Enoggera Creek if you see a trail of small bubbles, say hello to a turtle. They are still surviving here and will probably outlast our little suburb. 

Author: Maurice Serico 

Author background: Maurice Serico has a BA in philosophy and English literature from University of Queensland, completed in 1979. He is an Aboriginal man with Gubbi Gubbi, Jiman and UK Australian heritage. Maurice has worked in a variety of positions across Aboriginal health, TAFE, education, and human resources; and in Aboriginal Affairs including in the office of the Minister for Aboriginal Affairs. Maurice is currently the Chair of Balaangala Community Group in The Gap. Maurice has a chronic kidney condition and participates in supporting the kidney health community. 

Thanks to LINA for the financial support to feature this story: www.lina.org.au