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I graduated from the University of Sydney and have degrees in medicine and surgery. I was the only doctor in this huge area. And she told me that I would lose a lot of babies there. I lost a lot. I lost three European babies in one twenty four hour period. Aboriginal babies died just like flies. Cholera Nubrai had the highest infant mortality rate in the world. I toured around this vast area and spoke to every doctor within perhaps 300 miles. They all denied that they had this problem. doctor Kallikarinas, you're not really suitable to be practicing medicine in a remote area. And then he went on to suggest that perhaps I should see a psychiatrist. In actual fact, I found out later that this problem with infant deaths, particularly Aboriginal infant deaths, was right across Australia. Now this is a very, very important issue. Yet when I spoke to doctors, their response was almost universally hostile. So I was left to handle the problem by myself.

I spent 3 weeks in South Africa with white farmers who are being forcibly removed from their land. I met with families affected by violent attacks from black gangs that can last for hours. The white farmers and their families endure torture during these attacks. I lived on the farms of future victims to understand their fears. A police officer told me that this situation will be over in under 2 years. The farmers, known as Boers, are preparing for a final battle and are willing to die for their land. I spoke with a farmer named Bernard, whose father was beaten to death, wife was strung up, and 11-year-old son was shot at. His 8-year-old son is now afraid to leave the house.

As a child, I was named Spirit Eyes by my grandparents. During an indigenous funeral, my late father was honored with smudging and singing the flag song. After a car accident left me with a broken neck, the thought of my grandson gave me hope. I believe in the creator guiding us to the afterlife, not euthanasia. My grandfather taught me to embrace each day and live life to the fullest, accepting that when our time comes, the creator will take us home.

We will have to explain to our kids what being a parent was like when they were kids. It's pretty crazy. The government was out of control, poisoning everything and sending our money to other countries. We couldn't pay our bills. We had to buy food from local farmers because the government poisoned everything. The medical industry was the number one killer, but we couldn't say anything because they were in control. We did things to preserve your fertility. That's why we're farmers. Any questions?

We worked hard to process and package our meat, but the next day, authorities raided our property with a search warrant. They went through everything and took our meat, leaving us unable to sell, feed our family, or even give it away. It all went to the dump. Despite this setback, we must keep going because people rely on this food as their medicine. I want everyone to have access to real food.

I had a fight with someone and got injured. Then we went inside and got stuck in a flood. My man saved me and we reached home. My family was separated and I was left alone with my baby. My husband died and I cried a lot. Then my man fell down and got hurt. He beat up the people who attacked him. Then my man set fire to their feet. Finally, someone grabbed me but I asked them to let go. They took me far away from my home. After three days, I found a shelter and then I met them again. We spent time together and they even taught me Vedas.

The speaker discusses the deception surrounding the rule of state from businesses, claiming that the government lied about consulting with the old people. They mention that the current leaders controlling the country are predominantly white. The conversation then shifts to the greed and desire for control over the country's rich mineral resources, such as diamonds, gold, and uranium. The government and big business are said to be working hand in hand, making it difficult for the people, including both Aboriginal and Australian individuals, to retain control. The speaker concludes by stating that according to the old people, everyone is considered equal, regardless of race.

We're at White Gate or Branch, which is my niece's house. The conditions here are terrible, with extreme heat in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. People have to go out early in the morning to get firewood for hot water and breakfast. It's difficult to keep the kids warm and getting up in the cold is hard. The water supply is problematic, with old taps and holes. There is only a shower block, no running water in the houses. In summer, it's scorching hot, so people go to town until it cools down. Living in these conditions has led to health issues like diabetes and heart problems. Without a fridge, they can only eat takeaway food. The voice of the people in power needs to see how we live and make changes for education, justice, and all First Nations people. Despite the hardships, my niece never complains.

I had long hair, slept on a mat, and even swallowed a sword. I did some unusual things like levitating, confessing my sins, and getting baptized. I begged and worshipped, even whipped myself. I went to extreme lengths like throwing myself into a volcano and drinking blood. Despite all this, I still had a deep desire to know something.

I joined the army to make my grandma proud, but I ended up smuggling two people for quick cash. I drove to a hotel to pick them up, armed only with pepper spray and a knife. I brought snacks to avoid trouble. The sheriff gave me a pocket bible, which made me reflect on my actions. I realized I should earn money honestly and help my family the right way. My faith in God has grown, and I see this experience as a message to change my ways.

I am Cheryl, an Aboriginal Australian from the Adameathna country. In the past, we were taught not to focus on color because we were all Australians. Our blood is the same, and our parents lived harmoniously with non-Aboriginals. They taught us to share Australia with everyone. We shouldn't let politicians divide us because we are all Australians. This land is shared, and my family and I, including my two daughters, will continue to live here. Let's unite as Australians. Authorized by Nyung Hai Warren Mundine, Australians For Unity Canberra.

Back in when d day occurred and on Sunday, the next day, my mother's four brothers all went down to the recruiting station and joined the military. Every one of them volunteered. And my uncle, they called him Ambrose Brose, they called him Bozzi. My uncle Bozzi was a hell of an athlete. They tell me when he was a kid. And he became an army air corps before the air force came along. He flew those single engine planes as reconnaissance over war zones. They got shot down in New Guinea, and, they never found the body because there used to be there are a lot of cannibals for real in that part of New Guinea.

That were visited and the foods that they held sacred. Sacred foods fall into four categories, dairy, seafood, offal, and insects supplemented by other types of food that were available and appropriate based on the geographical location, and skill sets of the native populations.

I was born in communist China during Mao's cultural revolution. Inspired by Lenin and Stalin, Mao formed the Red Guards with students to enforce his ideology. The revolution involved destroying statues, demonizing religions, and turning people against each other. Mao's Great Leap Forward campaign resulted in millions dying from starvation, with reports of cannibalism to survive.

I joined the flying column in 1916 in Carwoodshire. We were rebels on the run, hunted day and night. Despite being outlaws, we felt free.

I am recounting my story from the 1980s in Los Angeles, beginning in 1985 when I was just under two years old. I attended rituals described as satanic but labeled as part of the Canaanite religion. I claim I killed dozens of people at these events, and that I did so as part of these rituals. My parents denied all of this. My mother was a hippie, and my father was an engineer and computer programmer who worked with robots; I was his greatest robot. At the rituals, hundreds of people, about 300, gathered in the basement of a giant Los Angeles mansion. They would sacrifice kids, and next to that circle was a box painted on the ground—a golden rectangular box. A man dressed like Moloch, buff with gold body paint and wearing a bullhead helmet, stood at the edge. When our fathers, our handlers, dropped us off, Moloch would raise his arms. This is the Moloch, and this is the golden box. The blonde and redhead kids sat in the golden box and watched Warner Brothers cartoons, waiting to be used for the rituals. I was in the front right quadrant; the red-haired girl was in the back left quadrant. The kids in the golden box were essentially child actors. Instead of calling these rituals, they were called routines. Before entering the circle, we received a bloody handprint on our faces. A woman, described as busty and topless, wearing a mask, would come out with a tray of blood. A guest would remove their hood, approach the golden box, dip their hand in the blood, and press it against our faces with the middle finger parallel to the nose. The bloody hand mark was common in America, with variations like the mark of the beast, the wild animal symbol, or a reptile claw dragged from the top down. We would then be painted and cleaned up to watch cartoons again. One ritual called hugs involved adult hugs that were not affectionate; they were sexual. I recall the dog humping my leg during one of these moments, which I misinterpreted as hugging. I have fond memories of the red-haired girl, who attended that first year, 1985. We performed a “wild animals” routine where, instead of following exact scripts, participants improvised while several people watched. I was placed on a cart and pushed toward a table covered with blue tarps; in the middle lay a trough of organs, with the red-haired girl nearby examining the intestines. We were sedated humans to be treated as animals—began slowly, then grabbed and touched organs, escalating to biting as a human body. The scene was messy beyond blood, including various internal contents. There was a bar area with barrels of alcohol on a wagon, and a German schnitzel girl with blonde hair and pigtails. I sat on a circular table with arches at the ends to separate drinks, and I ate a cracker at the end of the events, which was smeared with a substance that tasted like blood and spice. I refused to eat it one year and my father came over with his Boston accent, saying, “They’ll kill you mother.” I eventually ate the cracker and watched a cartoon of a black cat named Pussy Foot, which showed a cat drinking milk slowly and closely. I had to imitate the cat’s licking and then assume a “kitty” position on the ground. They would then pick me up by my sides and place me in front of a woman’s vagina for the orgies, where I would look away.

As a child, I knew Jimmy Savile was important at the hospital. He would touch me inappropriately during church services, progressing from stroking my back to putting his hands down my trousers. I tried to protect myself by wearing more clothes, even putting tampons in my bottom. The worst was when he put his whole hand in my mouth, making it hard to breathe. I felt invisible, like no one could see me. I hid in school under cupboards, feeling disgusting and blaming myself for not stopping it. I thought maybe no one else had experienced this, but I realized others might have been stronger than me to speak up.

I don't support the Uluru statement or the way Aboriginal communities are being handled. The money meant for us never reaches us. We need jobs, not overlapping services. We don't have shops, just alcohol and drugs. Don't make decisions for us without listening to us. Don't use me or my family to support something that will make our situation worse. This is not about us, it's about an agenda that won't help us out of the mess we're in.

En el campo, uno debe tomar su arma y espiar a los animales. A veces, con suerte, se encuentra un animal rápidamente y se puede regresar al mediodía. Si no, hay que andar todo el día. Para cazar, uno debe sacar su escopeta y caminar. A veces, el hablante iba con su esposa al monte con cama a dormir allá por una semana hasta que encontraban suficientes animales. Así vive uno en el campo. --- In the countryside, one must take their weapon and spy on the animals. Sometimes, with luck, an animal is found quickly and one can return by noon. If not, one has to walk around all day. To hunt, one must take out their shotgun and walk. Sometimes, the speaker would go with his wife to the mountain with a bed to sleep there for a week until they found enough animals. That's how one lives in the countryside.

We were given little information about the day the nuclear bomb was dropped. We were told not to look at the flash. When it hit, we could see the x-rays of our hands through closed eyes. The heat felt like being set on fire. Some stood up before being knocked down by the blast. After, we saw the massive mushroom cloud. Many died from cancers and other illnesses. The government's actions were disgraceful and outrageous.

I experienced severe abuse, including threats, rape, and violence, often from those who pretended to be kind. We were derogatorily labeled as "gory girls" and "white slags." My police records reveal 200 to 300 pages detailing the abuse, including strangulation, knife threats, and an attempted arson on my home. I was raped over a thousand times, and countless men assaulted me. This was a grim reality for us, and although it sounds unbelievable, it felt normal. It was all we knew.

In the future, we'll have to explain to our kids what it was like being parents. It was pretty crazy. The government was out of control, poisoning everything and sending our money to other countries. We struggled to pay our bills and had to buy food from local farmers because the quality was so bad. The medical industry was like the mafia, killing people but we couldn't speak out. We did a lot to preserve your fertility. That's why we became farmers.

My uncle Bosie was a skilled athlete and served in the Army Air Corps. He flew reconnaissance missions over war zones but went missing after being shot down in New Guinea, where cannibals were present. Sadly, my son developed stage 4 glioblastoma after volunteering in Iraq.