Dr Lowitja O'Donogue was

a remarkable woman. She died yesterday at the age of ninety-one but she used those 91 years for the good of others. 

She was born at Indulkana in 1932. Indulkana is a tiny place on aboriginal lands in the north-west of this state. Her mother was "full blood" aboriginal. Her father was a "white" owner of a pastoral property.  They were in a long term relationship and Lowitja was the youngest of their five children.

Much is made of Lowitja (then Lois) being a "member of the stolen generation". In fact she was given over, as were her siblings, to the "United Aborigines Mission" so that she could get an education. She retained ties with her family throughout her childhood and, despite not supporting the removal of children from their families, admitted that she had a happy childhood.  She made the most of her time at school too - leaving with the old "Intermediate Certificate" before working as a "domestic" for a short time. It was not enough for her and she finally managed to win the fight to enter training as a nurse. She spent ten years at a major hospital here, rising to charge nurse, before she went as a medical missionary to Assam. There she worked as relief nurse so that others could come home on leave.

It was when she came back to this state that I met her. She began work for the Education Department here as an aboriginal liaison officer. At that time we were about to leave the remote community where my parents had been the two teachers at the small school. The Senior Cat had been trying, unsuccessfully, to get some aboriginal children to attend school. He made contact with Lowitja and she made a visit to see what could be done. Like the Senior Cat she did not succeed. The families in question simply moved on. 

But I remember her coming to see us. She had a meal with us and supervised my two younger sisters in the bath tub amid many squeals of delight on their part. At the meal table she talked to my brother and I as much as she talked to our parents. There were so few visitors in that part of the world that such events have remained with me. I also remember because I felt comfortable with her - and there were not many strange adults I liked on sight.

Later I was to meet her again. She knew my late friend R... and of course R...'s son M... who is still a close friend.  I remember walking into R...'s kitchen and finding Lowitja and R.... sitting there. R... introduced me and, before she had finished, Lowitja stood and held out her hand saying, "We have met before, haven't we? Where are your parents teaching now?"

Lowtija didn't always agree with R... Her politics were more radical and her ways were more confrontational.  Nevertheless they respected one another and I respected Lowitja because I trusted R...'s judgment of her. 

I didn't see her again for many years. Then it was at a meeting where she had been invited to speak. I was simply there as an ordinary participant. Afterwards however as people milled around, all trying to talk to her, she saw me, excused herself, and came to speak briefly to me. She inquired after Mum and the Senior Cat...and put her hand briefly on my shoulder when I told her Mum was no longer with us. It might all seem as if she was simply doing what was expected of her in the position she held by then but the interest in other people was there and still genuine. I think that is what made her stand out from the crowd. It is why the aboriginal people of this country have lost such an advocate.