13/02/2025
A Staple Food Nearly Lost to Colonial Farming and Grazing
Yam Daisy – Aboriginal Names: Murnong and Nyamin (Microseris lanceolata)
For generations, only a few remote places in Victoria, Australia, harbored the once-abundant murnong, a root vegetable prized for its crisp texture and sweet, coconut-like flavor. These safe havens included a cemetery on Forge Creek Road in Bairnsdale, where clusters of its bright yellow flowers grew around gravestones, and a railway track protected by tall fences, shielding the plant from grazing animals.
Before European colonization in the 18th century, Victoria’s grasslands and rocky hillsides were blanketed with murnong. Its golden blooms stretched as far as the eye could see. For the Indigenous peoples of southeastern Australia—including the Wurundjeri, Wathaurong, Gunditjmara, and Jaara—this root was a vital source of sustenance, integral to their survival for tens of thousands of years. But by the 1860s, murnong was almost extinct, retreating to isolated patches while its cultural significance faded from memory.
Reviving a Forgotten Legacy
In 1985, botanist Beth Gott, then in her sixties, established a garden at Monash University dedicated to Aboriginal wild plants. Inspired by her fieldwork on Indigenous foods and medicines in the Americas and Asia, Gott launched one of the most comprehensive studies of Aboriginal plant knowledge. She cataloged over 1,000 species, from sleep-inducing dune thistles to the sweet-tasting fruits of the woorike tree.
Her research revealed that one plant stood out in its importance to pre-colonial Australian life: murnong. Determined to find and grow this near-forgotten species, Gott scoured historical records and the Australian wilderness. Tragically, much of the knowledge surrounding murnong had been lost—some of it erased through violence.
Ironically, her best sources were the journals of early European settlers. These records painted a vivid picture of murnong’s abundance. In 1841, George Augustus Robinson, then Chief Protector of Aborigines at Port Phillip, described women harvesting murnong across the plains, carrying as much as they could.
The Plant That Sustained Generations
Murnong grows up to 40 cm tall, its leafless stalk topped with buds that bend like a shepherd’s hook before blooming into vivid yellow flowers, resembling oversized dandelions. Beneath the soil, the plant’s tubers vary in shape, from radish-like rounds to slender carrot-like forms. When broken, they release a milky sap that stains the skin.
The tubers were traditionally harvested and either eaten raw or baked in earth ovens. Aboriginal cooks layered the tubers with grass and heated them with hot stones, often preparing baskets of murnong stacked three feet high for communal feasts. While winter rendered the tubers less flavorful, murnong remained a staple food for much of the year, with some communities consuming up to 2 kg per person daily.
The Decline of Murnong
Colonial farming practices devastated the murnong population. By the early 19th century, European settlers introduced millions of sheep and cattle, whose grazing and trampling decimated native vegetation. The animals quickly uprooted the soft soil to feast on murnong tubers. In 1839, James Dredge, a Methodist preacher, recorded an Aboriginal man’s lament: “Too many jumbuck [sheep] and bulgana [cattle]… all gone the murnong.”
Compounding the problem, the introduction of rabbits in 1859 further decimated the plant’s remaining wild populations. To many European settlers, murnong was little more than a w**d, and the loss of this crucial food source pushed Indigenous communities to the brink of starvation.
A Modern Revival
In the 1980s, Beth Gott’s garden became a sanctuary for murnong, preserving its legacy. Around the same time, public health expert Kerin O’Dea highlighted the health benefits of traditional Aboriginal diets. In a groundbreaking experiment, she led ten diabetic Aboriginal individuals into the bush to live as hunter-gatherers for seven weeks. The results were profound—participants lost weight, and their diabetes symptoms improved.
Today, efforts to revive murnong are gaining momentum. Aboriginal community gardens now dedicate plots to the plant, and harvest festivals featuring traditional tools and dances have been revived. Celebrated Australian chef Ben Shewry grows murnong in his garden, incorporating it into his dishes. He calls it “the most important ingredient I serve,” noting how customers are moved by its flavor and history.
The seeds for murnong’s resurgence have come from unexpected places, including Bairnsdale’s cemetery and railway sidings, as well as Gott’s Monash garden. Now, the plant’s future lies in the hands of gardeners, chefs, and communities determined to restore this vital piece of Australia’s cultural and culinary heritage.
Adapted from “Eating to Extinction: The World’s Rarest Foods and Why We Need to Save Them” by Dan Saladino.
