The Silence of Ninga Mia: How Promise Became Neglect on the Edge of the Super Pit

You can see the weight of absence in the peeling paint of the playground, in the overgrown grass that once held children’s laughter, in shattered doors swinging open to sky. Ninga Mia, a reserve on the outskirts of Kalgoorlie‐Boulder, sits in the shadow of Australia’s gold-mining might. And yet its decline tells a story not of extraction but of abandonment.

The plan was simple: provide housing for First Nations people who were visiting or left behind by dislocation. Infrastructure, services, homes. Over time, policy shifted. Today, what remains is a handful of inhabitable homes, broken promises, and a community left homeless in the margins.

The Reality Behind the Headlines

Ninga Mia was established in the 1980s as a government-sanctioned Aboriginal reserve. It was meant to be temporary, but also came to serve as permanent shelter, cultural space, and refuge for people displaced from rural and remote areas. ABC+2Wikipedia+2 Over time, it grew to include dozens of houses, communal facilities, but also persistent problems. Kalgoorlie Miner+2Wikipedia+2

An audit in 2018 laid bare the neglect: many properties had not been significantly refurbished since the 1980s; most were aged; wiring, plumbing, structural integrity were compromised. ABC+2Wikipedia+2 Houses beyond repair were identified. Some were torn down. Others remain, but many are unlivable. ABC+1 Residents report that maintenance requests go unanswered for months or even years. ABC+1

A very real outcome: 19 tenants now live in seven properties, as of September 2025. The rest have mostly been moved or displaced. ABC Meanwhile, many people feel the people doing the moving out have gotten priority, but the replacement housing, the supports, the dignity have lagged. “We’re homeless and our people are living on the streets,” Geoffrey Stokes, a Wongutha-Ngadju-Mirning elder, says. ABC

Closer to town, homelessness is worsening. Waiting lists for public housing have stretched. In Kalgoorlie, applications for social housing have grown by 45 percent since March 2020. ABC Community services are doing what they can: church breakfasts, showers, laundry, help for people sleeping in cars or in derelict spaces. But they are stopgap measures in the face of a structural collapse of housing rights for First Nations people. ABC

The Cultural, Social, Emotional Consequences

This is not just a housing problem. It is a problem of identity, of belonging, of being seen. Ninga Mia is more than a collection of houses. For many, it is home, it is country, connection to tradition and kinship. Its loss reverberates through generations. ABC

People report feeling discarded. unheard. Displacement has a name. Disrepair has a face. And the proximity to one of Australia’s richest gold mines only deepens the contradiction: there is gold, there is wealth, there is investment nearby, but little flow of safety, homes, basic dignity. The disconnect between resource wealth and human well-being becomes stark.

Politically the promises are there. Some protections exist, some government funding, some plans for relocation, but implementation is inadequate. Consultation has been judged as token by many locals. They say houses are simply boarded up and demolished beyond notice. SBS+2Kalgoorlie Miner+2

A Path Forward Through Respect and Justice

If neglect created Ninga Mia’s decline then respect might yet spark its restoration. The lessons are clear to those who choose to listen:

First, real consultation. Engage local elders, First Nations voices not as checkbox participants but as decision-makers. Listen before housing, before relocation, before demolition. Because knowing where people are from, what they value, the places they call home matters.

Second, infrastructure and maintenance must be consistent and resourced. Homes build health, safety, dignity. Deferred plumbing, broken doors or roofs are not small failures—they are betrayals of promise.

Third, alternatives must be genuine. If relocation is offered, it must not sever cultural connection, must include wrap-around supports: health, transport, schooling, identity.

Fourth, accountability must be visible. When audits find damage, when policies shift, when promises are made—all levels of government must be monitored, results made public, rights protected.

Final Thoughts

Ninga Mia exists at the intersection of wealth and exclusion, history and neglect. It is a reminder that policy built without regard for culture, without respect for place, without voices from the margins is a hollow promise. But it also offers hope. Because even when buildings crumble, people remain. Elders continue to speak out. Communities still hold memories.

At TMFS we believe justice begins where neglect ends. We believe housing is a human right tied deeply to belonging, that First Nations communities deserve more than temporary fixes. If Australia is to meaningfully close the gap, it must do more than commit—it must deliver.

Let this be a moment of turning: from demolition notices to restoration plans; from displacement to empowerment; from silence to listening. Governments, service providers, civil societies—step forward together. For every house torn down, let us build two of respect.

All rights belong to their respective owners. This article contains references and insights based on publicly available information and sources. We do not claim ownership over any third-party content mentioned.