Rabbit-Proof Fence Personal Response

by chelsealacusta (student)

International Baccalaureate World Literature

Chelsea Lacusta

Dear diary,

It had felt like an eternity but the day had finally given way to night. The departure of the daylight offered my sunbaked skin refuge from the dry heat that constantly pressed down on me. My weary muscles lent me just enough energy to lift my heavy head and scan the horizon to ensure that the Tracker was long gone. Occasionally, I glanced up and gazed upon the colorful specks of light that were interspersed within the inky black sky. It was heart-wrenching to know that I was experiencing the same starry sky that my mother would be seeing from her comfortable place at home, and I was miles away. My threadbare, dusty jacket was the only thing shielding me from the brutal chill of the winds that swept across the eerily silent desert. It took every last ounce of strength I had to drag one aching foot in front of the other but I reminded myself that every grueling, fatiguing step took me closer to returning to the one place I felt that I belonged, Jigalong. Ignoring the relentless hunger pains in my stomach, I realized that I would have collapsed many long, merciless miles ago if it were not for the beautiful image of my mother’s joyful face once she had seen that I had come home.

Too soon, the sky morphed into a breathtaking display of magnificent colors as the sun eagerly rose above the bare horizon, bringing with it the arid, scorching air. As I battled the effects of arduous exhaustion and excruciating hunger, I found myself pondering my foreign experiences at the Moore River Settlement. Multiple times throughout my stay at the camp, I was told that it was strictly forbidden to recount my previous familiarly comfortable lifestyle*. I was forced to believe that the Moore River Settlement was where I truly belonged and that my old home was _______ but I silently rebelled ...