TRANSCRIPT

This episode is going to take you on a journey of what it was like to be born into a Jehovah’s Witness family, recalling moments and events up until the age of eleven.   To provide context of how two people with very different upbringings came together with their intense religious beliefs, married and started a family.  The perspectives I am sharing with you, are through the eyes of a little girl now an adult, to provide insight into how her memories and associated feelings, accumulated and catapulted into a huge eruption of dysfunctionality at around the age of twelve.

The impact of being born into a Jehovah’s Witness family is monumental, and the way in which my parents chose to embrace their own religious invisible village had serious consequences.  At the end of the day, they operated with the influences and tools that they had at the time.  Was it right or was it wrong?  It was what they knew.

Welcome to my story, Raised by an Invisible Village

I was born in December 1972, a Sagittarian baby, not that it really means anything when you are born into a Jehovah’s Witness family.  But for those that do follow star signs, a free-spirited, curious, adventurous little girl entered into the world of parents who were deeply religious and exceptionally conservative.

My Mother gave birth to me at the age of twenty one, a young mum who apparently had not been around many babies or children before me.  My father was fifteen or so years older than my Mother and from what I know, it was a long courtship that started when my Mother was around the age of seventeen.  Old fashioned courting, mainly over letter writing, as my father was a Jehovah’s Witness missionary, travelling from one location to another.  across Northern Australia.  They married when my Mother was only nineteen years of age.

My father who passed over in this world five years ago from Alzheimer’s, hadn’t always been a Jehovah’s Witness, in fact he had spent a large amount of his early twenties in the Australian Navy, along with his twin brother.  However, he must have had a profound spiritual longing, as he almost became a Catholic Priest, and yet at some point in time came across the Jehovah’s Witnesses.  I am not sure how long my Father was in the Navy for, but I do know that he was medically discharged for his condition with Epilepsy.  I can only imagine how horrific this decision would have been.  His Epilepsy was apparently triggered from falling off a bike as a little boy, and while he was able to manage his condition with medication, there were times that his seizures would be severe.  I witnessed a couple of these moments as a young girl and it was extremely traumatising to see your father completely debilitated on the ground.

My Father’s upbringing, which I don’t know a lot about, was primarily based in the Australian outback. A sheep farm in country Western Australia.  From what I can understand, his father (my grandfather) was a cruel man, and his Mother (my Grandmother) was timid in nature and did little to keep her children feeling secure and safe.  Strong Irish heritage, with a last name Murphy.  I can only assume that together with his twin brother, older brother and older sister, that my Father’s life had been the school of hard knocks.  A rough and abusive household.

My Father’s oldest sister Aunty Ellen, would become a very important person in my invisible village from around the age of about twelve, along with my Father’s twin brother, Uncle Dan and his wife Aunty Norma.  These are stories that will start to unravel for you and make sense as I continue sharing my story.

My Aunty Ellen, my Father’s oldest sister made a visit to me during her late seventies, (at the time I was around twenty nine) and it would be the first time since being a sixteen year old that I would spend time with her face to face as an adult.  Aunty Ellen lived in Perth and for the first time in her entire life she had decided to do a trip outside of Perth.  I was living over 5000 kms away in Townsville at the time of her visit, so you can imagine how excited I was to have not only a family member in my home, but my favourite family member, Aunty Ellen.

Aunty Ellen and my Father had been extremely close during their childhood and while in their young adult years, lived together for an extended period of time.   Aunty Ellen had also taken an initial interest in the Jehovah’s Witness world, but very soon considered their teachings to be of a brain washing nature and decided that this was not a religion for her.  It would be during her visit to me in Townsville, that Aunty Ellen shared many many things about my father that at the time, I found quite confronting, and it did leave me wondering if my Mother had actually known about some of those events.  I am not going to mention them as I don’t think it is appropriate, however it did provide insight into why he seemed to be trying to escape a difficult past, both as a child and young adult, it kind of made sense, but some in ways at the time, left me confused.

It would have been in his late twenties that my father went on to become a Jehovah’s Witness and a missionary.  Devoting his entire life to the Jehovah’s Witness cause.  It was somewhere in those years that he met my Mother.

My Mother was one of four children, two brothers and a sister, the second youngest in the family.  All of which had been raised from an early age in a Jehovah’s Witness environment and to this day they all remain in the religion.  My Mother’s oldest sister and youngest brother would also become in some ways apart of my invisible village, which in a way made me confused as to how and why my parents were so extreme in their way of dealing or managing me, while my Mother’s family seemed to be a little more relaxed in their approach to the Jehovah’s Witness faith.

Growing up, apparently my Mother was very quiet and shy, a nickname Mouse.  She never spoke of school friends or friends in general, and interesting as I write this, I don’t recall my Father ever speaking of friends.  In fact my Father never spoke of his childhood.

So there my parents were, my Father fifteen years older than my Mother, having had a whole lifetime of experience, marrying a young woman with the unworldliness of a girl.  Strange when you think about that through adult eyes and wonder how they made that work.  But they did!!.  I don’t ever recall my parents arguing, or raising their voices at each other.  However the Jehovah’s Witness way, is for the wife to be obedient to her husband, so perhaps the extraordinary compliance to their religious beliefs contributed to their amicable relationship.  

I’m not sure what year they moved to Alice Springs, but it was a destination that as Jehovah’s Witness missionary (as my Mother also had been one), they decided to live there.  At some stage during their move to Alice Springs, my Grandmother, my Mother’s Mother, also moved to Alice Springs with my Grandfather.

By now my Mother was pregnant with me, and it was during this time (perhaps before) that my Grandmother’s health deteriorated to the point that within 3 weeks of me being born, she would pass from this world.

I tried to imagine what it would have been like for my Mother during this time.  A very young Mum, a newborn and her Mother dying.  It would have been a struggle, trying to deal with a baby that also had a slight deformity in her hip, and given my spirit, I am sure that I would have been quite a demanding newborn.  I was named Kathleen Louise Murphy,  Kathleen after my Grandmother, something I would be reminded of many times during my life.

I would soon become the eldest sister of three girls and one boy.  There is only twelve to eighteen months between each of us siblings.  By the age of seven, my Mother and Father had five children.  I am sure that it would have been a very busy and noisy household.

As I was putting this particular series together, I researched and reviewed lots of old photos and videos.  It would seem like these early years of life were like most normal happy families.  This little blonde girl running home from school, which was just across the road,  falling over at the road crossing, with scratched knees crying and being soothed by her Mother.  Eating caramelised apples with my little sister, covered from head to toe with sticky caramel in the back of the car.  Those days, no seat belts required!  Squeezing the cheeks of sisters and brothers to make them look at the video camera, no sound in those old video cameras.  Going on a holiday in Singapore as a two year old, along with my Mother’s oldest sister and her two children, my cousins.  The many video’s showing footage of flowers and animals that had clearly been captured by my Father, he always loved nature.  As he would say, gifts from God.

I would also be reminded of when in preschool, I took to throwing flour around the entire room. Maybe I didn’t like what was being prepared.  Continually being told that I had a strong will throughout my life, it’s actually kind of funny to think that my parents would have been absolutely horrified turning up to collect me that day covered in flour!  Along with everyone else in the classroom including the teachers.

I don’t know about you, but it’s difficult to remember most things up until the age of seven.  Fleeting moments of memories, that you wonder if you actually remember them, or was it because someone had told you the stories.  Those small fleeting memories I have of changing schools as we moved to the other side of Alice Springs.  Walking to school with a couple of other Jehovah Witness kids, the oldest boy of the group for some reason would hit me over the head with his school bag, and the confrontation that followed when my Father went to speak to his parents.  It was heated, I do remember that quite vividly. 

The change in school which would have been around grade three I remember was not a fun time. Not only was the walk to school traumatic, being hit over the head with a school bag, it was from what I can recall, the first time that I was bullied and no-one had wanted to play with me.  It was the first time I remember not standing when the national anthem was being played, and not being allowed to participate in birthday or other celebrations.  Being different was starting to play out.  

The Jehovah’s Witness teachings to most celebrations are considered to be steeped in pagan rituals that are supposedly against the bible, standing and respecting a National Anthem, flag, saluting or following any man made government is deemed an act of worship or idolatry, when their allegiance is to god alone. 

I can’t recall when we moved to Katherine, but it would have been around the beginning of Grade four, 1980 at the age of nine.  

Katherine is located in the Northern Territory, 350 km south of Darwin and at that time had a population of approximately 3500 people.  My parents really did like small towns.  I am pretty sure this location would be deemed a missionary wanted hotspot!  A location that is in the tropics, unbelievably hot, the smell of rotten mangoes and bats to this day stays in my nose!! And the bats that every night would make the sky black as they flew to wherever they would go along the Katherine River.  Their high pitch squawks that sounded like they were squabbling, and let’s not forget the constant sound of the Cicadas day and night.  Like an irritating buzz in your head that won’t turn off.  It is any wonder that there is a saying around the build-up season to the wet, that everyone goes a bit tropo!  Those sounds and smells will do that to you.

The first house that we moved into in Katherine, was very different to our house in Alice Springs.  This house was on stilts, stairs to climb, louvres on every window and ceiling fans.  No aircon to keep cool, and the only way to sleep at night would be on the wooden floorboards next to the louvres and if you were lucky to get a cool night time breeze, would be a bonus.  It was a brand new house, in a new estate.  Probably considered a little flash in its time.  Underneath the house was just dirt, and we would ride our bikes making roads and playing some sort of pretend games with my brothers and sisters.  The house was situated on the boundary of the bush and we literally had a bush track that we would walk to school everyday.

So yes, another new school.  A blue uniform!  I had Pilipino Sisters as teachers during year four!  And they were very strict.  If we didn’t sit up straight with a ruler down our back, or use our pencils correctly, a crack from their black board ruler would come down on your knuckles.  They also had accents, which made it very difficult to understand them.  Again this also was a period of time that was absolutely miserable!!.  No standing up when the National Anthem was playing, no joining into birthdays, Easter or Xmas celebrations.  When you are the only person having to step out of the room and then become bullied because of it, isolated and rejection was fast becoming ingrained in my psyche.  At this school I was also called Kathaleena. I remembered hating it so much, and being in tears every single day!!  I wanted to change schools, and be enrolled as Kathy.

It was during this time that my Mother became sick and what seemed like ‘always’ in hospital for a little girl’s mind.  Aunty J, one of my Mother’s Jehovah Witness friends from Alice Springs came to look after us during one of her stays in hospital and it seemed like a really really  long time.  Looking back on this time through adult eyes, I wondered who looked after her children while she was taking care of us, after all her kids were almost the same age as us.

We didn’t have a TV, and because of that I would miss out on all the school yard conversations, that was if and when I joined a school yard group.  I was literally isolated from anything that was remotely outside of the Jehovah Witness world.  I am pretty sure Monkey Magic was the ‘thing’ at that time, and everyone would talk about the night before the episode and laugh!  All I wanted was to fit in, even at this early stage of life.  I do, however, being so excited at being able to watch Princess Diana and Prince Charles’ wedding.  There was a Jehovah Witness family that lived down the road from our house who had a TV, and we were invited to watch the wedding.  I was absolutely mesmerised by Princess Diana’s beauty, her dress, the long train, her flowers and oh my god!!  All those bridesmaids and people.  I loved her so much that I wrote her a letter and I actually got one back.  Well I thought I did, my Mother very quickly told me that she had people that did that for her.  I never kept the return letter.  Strange.

Being in a three bedroom house, the four of us girls would share a room.  All bunk beds and My Mother would regularly read to us.  We actually loved my Mother reading to us, stories of Blinky Bill and the Gumnut babies.  Her ability to read and change her voice to all the different characters would have all of us asking for more and she would read it over and over again.  Unfortunately my Father just did not have the same talents in book reading and so when my Mother couldn’t for whatever reason, we would cry.  I am also thinking that my Father’s book of choice would be a bible story book. 

So we were on the move again at the age of around ten!  To the other side of Katherine.  This time a green uniform.  This move meant a house that my Mother and my Father had purchased, not just a rental.  It was again a 3 bedroom highset, the bathroom was located in the middle of the house, with a hallway that wrapped around it internally with the bedrooms down one side, kitchen, living room and dining room down the opposite side.  Two verandas, one at the back and one at the front that my Father built in, to expand one of the bedrooms to enable a bit larger space for all us girls and our bunk beds.  Our brother had his own room.  Over the next year or so, my Father built a one bedroom unit underneath the house that would become my Grandfather Bapa as we called him, and his Indonesian wife.  Bapa was my Mothers Father.  A very big man, with a big voice who as children, we were very scared of him.  This part of the story will become important as I move through other stages of my life.

Our school was just down the road and we would walk from home, in our green uniforms and vegemite sandwiches.  My memories are a little hazy, but what I do remember is that I was enrolled as Kathy!  Yes, no longer Kathaleena, but that didn’t stop the bullying.  It didn’t stop sitting, while everyone else stood for the National Anthem, it didn’t stop having to be excluded from the religious classes only to attend our little group of other Jehovah Witness kids.  Again, didn’t stop not joining in with celebrations of Birthdays, Easter and Xmas.  Or joining other school yard conversations that were about what everyone had watched on TV.  And it definitely didn’t stop being called ugly, squinty eyes or smelly.  I would be in tears going home, only for my Father to tell me that I was definitely not ugly.  in fact he once told me that I was prettier than my other sisters. His other favourite saying was sticks n stones will break your bones but names will never hurt you.  Well yes they did Father!

The interesting thing here, is that in my late thirties attending a therapy session, some of my deep deep innersole sadness would be associated with the loneliness and isolation felt by that little girl in the school yard that no-one wanted to play or be friends with, and the extension of that continued to be played out in the family home.

Throughout this period of my life, my Mother was still very sick.  My memories of her either in bed or laying flat on the couch was how life was.  I learnt from an early age to cook, clean and wash clothes.  Skills obviously helpful in later life, but as a child I certainly grew up very fast.  I did love to cook though and to this day, love to make good meals for people to enjoy.  Perhaps my love language.

Being in a Jehovah’s Witness family, (well this one anyway) was dominated by bible study pretty much night and day, preaching from door to door and attending bible studies.   Every morning at breakfast and evening, daily scriptures would be read out and we would be expected to join the conversations, every Saturday was witnessing (door to door preaching), Sunday’s would be a 2 hour meeting, Tuesday evenings would a bible study at someone’s home, and Thursday evening another 2 hour meeting.  Prayers before every meal, only conducted by a man.  We would also then be expected to read the Watchtowers and Awakes, other publications and then of course setting a goal of reading the entire bible from front to back.  Anyone outside of the Jehovah’s Witness faith was considered ‘worldly’ and it was absolutely frowned upon if there was any association with anyone that was not a Jehovah’s Witness.  Any wonder I didn’t have any school friends!  Having no TV was a way of controlling outside influences according to my parents.

In some ways I was considered a golden child.  I was given the opportunity to learn the piano and the flute and I was actually good at it, achieving a few high grades during a couple of exams that I participated in.  With my music talents, I was the music at the Jehovah’s Witness meetings, which like most other religions have songs before, during and at the conclusion of their sessions.  I was also a very compliant and people pleasing child.  Often praise would come in the form of how good I was at playing the flute or piano, or how I looked after the family, or how I performed on stage at meetings to demonstrate how to do religious talks or practising door to door preaching.  No-one would have considered that this little girl was extremely sad and longed for acceptance.

The congregation size in Katherine, would have been around fifty people.  Made up of our own family of seven, another family of similar size eight and then a few other smaller families or just couples.  Keeping in mind that we could only associate with other Jehovah’s Witnesses, there wasn’t a lot of choice in developing friendships within the congregation.  The other family similar in size to ours had three boys and three girls.  The older brother was a few years older than me, and his sister was fairly close to my age.  We became friends and well yes, as I started to move into puberty developed an enormous crush on T.  He liked me as well, but given he was at least four or five years older than me, it was quickly squashed and it wasn’t long before we couldn’t hang out with the family. 

As I reflect on this phase of my life, I wondered who was in my invisible village.

Was it my grade four or five female teacher who played backgammon with me every day after school, which once my parents found out that was stopped.  I loved hanging out with this teacher (I wish I could remember her name), she dressed in cool hippy clothes, scraggly hair that she would put up in a loose bun, rings on most of her fingers.  If you can imagine a psychic, then this was her!  Or was it my flute teacher, who I would ride to his house after school one day a week.  He was a school of the air teacher and even had Princess Diana visit him.  These two people were not Jehovah Witnesses, but they seemed to take an interest in me, believed in me and liked my company.  As adults were they seeing what was happening to this little girl, isolated from the world?

A couple of times a year we travelled to a major city for what was called a convention or assembly.  This had always been a fun time as they also were our family holiday.  Only these trips were two to four days of bible study, talks and the big Elders of the faith often had flown in from the Jehovah’s Witness Head Office in New York.  There always was some type of global announcement that created excitement and it was also the place where baptisms in water were held.  In the Jehovah Witness world, a great cause of celebration.  Sometimes 1000’s of people would attend from all over the place and it was like a buzz of friendship reunions, although for me as I was now entering into puberty, I was starting to find these conventions were creating another form of isolation.  My parents forbid me from attending any social outings with other Jehovah Witness kids that were in isolation of them not being there.   Seeing other kids who were Jehovah’s Witnesses having fun together and doing what kids should be participating in, I do remember being very upset.  I am not sure of their reasoning, but I know that it was creating a deep seated place of resentment against my parents.

The extension of my parents’ approach to managing a little girl now growing into a young woman, was the seemingly avoidance of wanting attention to be drawn to her physical developments or appearance.  I no longer was able to wear t-shirts as my little breasts were starting to show, and that by now I also had started to menstruate, quite young to start at eleven.  Or the fact that having my ears pierced was some type of bodily harm and well, makeup and jewellery!  That was an absolute no! This was probably generated from my father’s displeasure of my Mother wearing makeup or jewellery, only her wedding rings.  I remember him describing and comparing makeup to Jezebel, who in the bible committed idolatry and sexual immorality. 

How was it that I didn’t have any friends at school, the other Jehovah’s Witness family in Katherine we could no longer hang out with and now as a spirited child, becoming more aware of how my parents were controlling, manipulative and so hypercritical.  I see this now as an adult, peering back into that little girl trying to find her sense of belonging, but I definitely didn’t have the words or mind to logically thought process, what was occurring in my soul.

As part of the Jehovah Witness preaching, there would be what was called ‘rural witnessing’.  This would be varying remote locations where bible studies would be organised.  

One of my favourite locations, and one that still holds a lot of memories, was a place called Duck Creek (Jilkminggan land).  It is located about 1 ⁄ 2 hr from Mataranka, south of Katherine and would often require a 4WD to get there.  It was on the banks of a river, with big pandanus trees, and this little aboriginal community had huts that were not like a house from a township, they were like tin sheds, however there several communal areas that were held up with tree trunks and protected with grass thatched roofs.  Campfires would be everywhere, still burning with billies of tea.  The people in this community would welcome us in and cook for us.  Amazing fish, wrapped in banana leaves, buried in the sand of the river bed, yet not one grain of sand when eating.  To this day, I still haven’t tasted fish like that.  Or there would be the ultimate delicacy of kangaroo.   I loved visiting this community and it was here that I actually made friends, I was accepted.  It would also be the first time that I became aware of the stolen generation.  

My friends told me stories of being taken in a big caged truck along with other kids and how they remembered their Mothers running behind the trucks screaming and crying.  I remember being confused as to why this would happen – who would do that?  Now as an adult, I don’t know how they returned to their homelands, but I can only imagine the trauma of what they had experienced and hope that it was in fact their true homeland.

During this time, we were invited to a corroboree.  A true authentic corroboree!!  I don’t know what the celebration was for, but what I do know is that it was something amazing.  The dancing, the singing, the fire burning, the colour of all the traditional dress and body art.  The flicking of the dust with feet being stomped into the ground and the sound of a didgeridoo, wailing women in song.  The women also were part of the dancing and as such their bare skinned breasts were on display.  What an opportunity to be part of and invited in.  Something I will always treasure.  To this day, any type of aboriginal dance and song will bring tears to my eyes.  

However, my Father who by now is an Elder in the congregation, decided that for these ‘people’ to be Jehovah’s Witnesses, this type of exposure of breasts would not be accepted.  I distinctly remember being so confused and quite angry.  These people were actually by now my friends.  They didn’t judge me, didn’t bully me and accepted me!  They had been removed by trucks, taken from their Mothers and family.  Why was it so wrong for them to be dancing without shirts?  Having this conversation with my Father, only for him to say that this was not my fight and then went on to describe how his sister was bullied by aboriginal kids at school, they would throw sticks and stones at her.  Jehovah’s Witnesses were supposed to be non-racists, but it was now becoming more and more evident to me that it was a conflict with teachings and actions!!  I didn’t understand!  I certainly am not suggesting that my Father was a racist, however unintentional bias was evident

Around the age of eleven, another family moved into the Katherine congregation.  This family was about the same size as ours, aboriginal and had three much older kids, but a younger daughter who was my age.  We became friends and I thought they were REALLY cool, to the point that I actually wanted them to be my family.  The father had been a boxer in his younger days, and would tell stories, lots of stories.  They let their kids watch TV and listen to rap music.  The boys were very awesome rappers!!  They also played guitars and sang.  Their family seemed to be so much more accepting of ‘worldly’ things than what my parents were.  But again, my Mother and my Father would make them wrong with their choices, I’m not sure if they ever communicated this to them, but they made this clear with us and association with them was limited.  I really wanted them to be my family and my love for aboriginal people only became stronger as from what I could see from my place in the world, love of family for aboriginal people was unconditional! And fierce protection for their own was evident. 

The characters of my invisible village throughout this phase of my life are varied and blurred.  However upon reflection as an adult, Mother, wife and friend, is the importance of recognising our own power as a character in other people’s invisible village.  What is the invisible village that you want to be living in?  Who do you want to retain, invite or remove from your invisible village?  How are we intentionally manoeuvring the character’s in our children’s invisible village?  

Our next episodes will introduce many characters that came into my invisible village, those who have remained and those who were removed.  The retrospect to know that dysfunctionality is not permanent. 

I invite and welcome you into the next episode of my story.  

Raised by an Invisible Village.

Creating a safe and connected space for you and I ☺