Not Properly Introduced?

Losing our two rabbits and a beloved cat in a single week (to the heat and a brown snake) in our first few weeks in Wagga has led me to reflect on my naivety about the risks our new environment poses and to ponder the strange accidents of history that have put this fairly Anglo family, with its predilection for William Morris arts and crafts and Beatrix Potter-style anthropomorphised pets, in the middle of the Australian bush.

I have been piecing together what Australian history I already knew and what I am learning about the Riverina region specifically to help make sense of my feelings – feelings of loss and displacement side by side with those of exhilaration and rapidly growing love of this landscape and town.

Such sudden evidence of the vulnerability of our urban pets has driven home to me with brutal intensity how paper bark thin is the veneer of suburban decorum here.  Kooringal’s winding streets sport bright green sprinkler-fed lawns,  garden beds of foxgloves and heliotrope and faux classical embellishments adorn the houses, yet many of those houses, like ours,  back onto  rugged, rocky terrain where heatstroke, snakebite and god knows what other perils await. When the sun is relentless and the air is humming I can’t avoid visions of Miranda and her school friends vanishing!

Disappearing into the impenetrable mysteries of the bush, Picnic At Hanging Rock.

I found an unattributed poem* published in the Wagga Wagga  Daily Advertiser of 25^th November, 1941 (65 years  to the day that I am writing this). It expresses the solace provided by quiet reflection on the banks of Wollundry Lagoon, on how the ‘things of Nature, God's kind forgiving smile’ help to heal both the soldier’s mind still full of the ‘frenzy of Tobruk’ and the troubled soul of  ‘some forlorn, weak sister’ who has morally transgressed. Then the poet suddenly conjures up images from the distant past:

(When) in Wollundry's garden a vision strange appears

Of native children playing among the ancient trees,

And camp smoke slowly rising upon the languid breeze.

No trim lawns then and willows, or fragrant scent of rose;

Long reeds and waving grasses, and calling of the crows.

Here dark-skinned men and women; God's creatures yet untamed

Lived innocently happy, untutored and unashamed.

They heard the kookaburra with cheery laughter greet

The sunglow, overspreading the morning, dewy sweet.

They saw the wild duck leaving their night-enchanted haunts

And took what Nature offered to satisfy their wants.

The kangaroos leaped lightly, the emu loitered near

Sufficient for the hunting, the boomerang and spear.

The native life was simple. Its savagery was mild.

And heart, however cultured, still leaneth to the wild.

There is something very pleasing in unspoilt forest still.

Ere man with axe and fire has worked his ruthless will

There heaven-assisted Nature moulds in unrivalled way

Her monumental splendour from elemental clay.

Despite its romantic paternalism (and inaccuracy about who first used fire to manage the land), the poet is attempting some 100 years after Wagga’s genesis as a European town, to grapple with the same paradoxes I am.  To reconcile what consoles her of contemporary values and taste with an imagined past she admires  as elemental, innocent and unspoilt.  She quickly excuses herself from judgement with the line “And who shall say the old thing was better than the new?”

The willows of Wollundry Lagoon in the 1930s (NSW State Records)

But we all do, constantly, declare an old thing better than a new or a new thing better than an old. When land was cleared for grazing in the early-mid 19thC the practice was supported by progressive,  benevolent natural scientist and  pioneer authority on Aboriginal culture, Alfred William Howitt, as ridding the land of miasma producing toxins. Also, as Wagga poet and memoirist, Mary Gilmore relates, sheep and cattle station owners saw the plants and birds which had flourished in  sanctuaries preserved by the local Wiradjuri  people for centuries on the Murrumbidgee as hazards and impositions. They eradicated the river oaks completely and drove the black swans from their nests smashing their eggs. They believed they were cleansing the landscape to better provide for their families, they had no inkling of the salinity that was to affect the soil so soon afterwards.  Regeneration of bush and wetlands decades later shows the old reasserting itself against the new!

We didn’t see  the brown snake get our cat. My son had seen it  earlier in the day winding away from the fishpond, and I had not thought anything of it when he told me. Her symptoms however, back legs giving way with ascending paralysis, venom affecting her breathing muscles and her mouth frothing up, were textbook. I realised that when I did some reading later. We don’t know for sure that the rabbits succumbed to heat exhaustion. They may have dehydrated, rabbits in the city don’t need drinking water you just dampen their veggies. As with the death of any loved one my mind raced with questions about what I could have done to keep my pets from harm.

Backyard grave for two of our perished pets - memorial mound of local rock.

As classes,  cats and rabbits are rightly considered destructive introduced  pests in Australia yet this particular cat and these particular rabbits did no damage, they just proved fragile in the face of the perennial dangers of the bush. Should we have introduced them at all? Done so differently? Or, like our sprinkler-addicted neighbours, should we defy the environment because we enjoy the company of our effete European pets?


These questions can’t be answered. All human society is rife with contradiction and compromise. This land is the brown snake’s home and it is also home to Maltese terriers, McDonalds drive thru,  alyssum borders, fancy garden statuary from Bunning’s and now also home to our 'rescue' new cats. We hope that,  like currency lads and lasses, being Wagga born, they may be prove more robust in this environment.   

Whatever comes there will be sadness and there will always be consolation amongst the willows and the now reintroduced river oaks of Wollundry Lagoon.

River Oaks (Casuarina cunninghamiana) back beside Wollundry Lagoon.

*Have contacted Editor of the Daily Advertiser to try to trace author with no success.

Some things to crow about – my first weeks in Wagga Wagga

Crow sculpture in grounds of Riverina Museum

My family and I have made an unexpected tree change.  Dwellers in Sydney’s inner/south west for over forty years (the kids half that time), we now find ourselves about as outer west from Sydney as we can be and still be in NSW, living in Wagga Wagga!

This opportunity – like so many other events - came along while we were busy making other plans. We were set to renovate our Sydney house. My son and I were within coo-ee of finishing degrees at Sydney universities. At work things had got more engaging than they had been for  a long time. My new book group was going swimmingly and my swimming arrangements were going by the book! Then the chance to relocate came in the form of a job offer to my partner. There wasn’t a huge decision making ‘window’ available to us. Basically we saw Wagga (the singular is acceptable here) in June, liked the town very much, and he  accepted the position in July. By September he and our son were ensconced and a month later our daughter and I had joined them.

I have a tendency to idealise the new and our brief foray into the Riverina district had yielded nothing but positive impressions. A concert of European chamber music performed by members of the local conservatorium,  one of opera ‘hits’ performed by the Cantilena Singers, a divine lunch at Harefield’s Winery and  excellent exhibitions of portraiture and  prints at the regional gallery -  all these made me sure that I was moving to a cultural hub. I even checked out the local aquatic centre on my first visit and felt confident I could maintain my exercise regime.

Wagga's Oasis Aquatic Centre

The reality of relocating is a mix of tedium and tumult! Packing and unpacking  the possessions that four people have taken several decades to accumulate feels endless.  Deciding where to put the telly, the towels and the teacups takes several attempts. Achieving things when your routines are shattered is a challenge. The process of settling is definitely incremental as some assumptions are tested and unexpected pleasures present themselves.

The things that have struck me as new or  different in my first few weeks here are…

The insect life. The only cockroaches we have seen emerged from the boxes we brought; they enjoyed their holiday for but a few seconds. Moths abound  - large buttery coloured ones that commit suicide against walls, blinds and windows. Millipedes were also abundant to begin with (my daughter swore they plummeted from the ceilings), but they seem to have gone to ground now. Flies are plentiful but must have a death wish as they become concussed then inert very quickly when they get into the house.

People strike up conversations and welcome you to the district. Everyone told me to expect this about living in the country but it is delightful to find out it is true. There is a general bonhomie about simple exchanges over buying groceries or coffee. One couple went as far as to come up to my daughter to say they had just seen her being interviewed for casual work, thought she acquitted herself very well and wished her good luck.

Almost everywhere takes about 10 – 15 minutes to get to and you can park easily and for free when you get there. The exception so far has been Tarcutta. We drove for 45 minutes to go to their markets (advertised as being on the 2^nd Saturday of the month) only to discover a ghost town. ‘They have ‘em to coincide with truckies’ memorial’ was the cryptic explanation of a laconic local. Apparently Wagga Council knows as little about ‘truckies’ memorial’ as we do, we went on the basis of their website.  An area for future research… or not.

Thriving Tarcutta

The Children's Medical Research Fundraiser Fair at Murrumbidgee Turf Club did  live up to its publicity. Delightful stall holders for whom close enough was fine when paying for goods (when did I last experience that in Sydney?) and a marvellous setting that my phone pictures didn’t do justice to. The place was imbued with the scent of multiple rose bushes – not the kind of aroma I had expected at a race course!

Impressed by the performing arts scene as a visitor I didn’t hesitate to get tickets to a couple of current productions:  the  School of Arts Community Theatre’s Airswimming and Charles Sturt University Theatre Ensemble’s  Alice in Wonderland. Like everything here they were playing in the Civic Theatre precinct, the former in the basement theatre, the latter outdoors in the Wollundry Lagoon amphitheatre. Ignorant of reputation my hopes for Airswimming were modest but this dramatisation of the real story of two women committed to a mental hospital on the grounds of ‘moral imbecility’ in the 1920s and not released until 1974 was a knock out and contained many more laughs than this description suggests!

Poster for Airswimming - an excellent production by SACT

Here is not the place for me to detail the disappointment I experienced at seeing a group of  over confident youths mutilate Lewis Carroll’s  immortal classic. Suffice to say I deserve a medal for staying seated throughout the torturous two hours and definitely deserved the excellent dinner we had at Romano’s afterwards. I guess buying theatre tickets on spec is like the proverbial ‘pig in a poke’ wherever you live.

My kids were kept awake by the sounds of a frog whose voice was something like the twanging of banjo strings emanating from the fishpond beneath their windows each night. To my dismay we discovered a sort of leopard print froggy amphibian drowned in the swimming pool one day. I retrieved it with a net and disposed of it thinking we had lost our nocturnal serenader but it has at least one relative who has taken on the gig. Personally I love its call but my room is on the other side of the house.

Some other spontaneous observations: 

• People don’t seem to swear very much here.  I now catch myself cringing at our constant effing and blinding  but doubt that  we will ‘catch’ restraint – maybe we have just not mixed in the right company yet. 
• Traffic lights seem to stay red  for a very long time (my husband says I am absolutely imagining this).
• The aquarobics instructor uses terminology that is different from what I am familiar with. I was optimistic when I thought he gave the order to ‘jog and chat’ at my first class but I was supposed to be punching the water with short ‘jabs’ not prattling on  about Men Who Stare at Goats as I had begun to. The exercise that my Sydney instructors called ‘mermaid’ (or in the case of one Japanese instructor ‘marmalade’) he rarely  uses at all but when he does he calls it ‘lateral lunges’ thus gender freeing it. We do not lie on our backs and open our legs and arms, we make ‘water angels’ – quite sweet really.  Not a language issue more a Lewis Carroll style conundrum has been working out which is the shallow ‘end’ of the circular pool classes take place in. Still working on that and have found myself submerged occasionally. 
• It nearly always gets delightfully cool at night even if the day time temperature is in the thirties and  it has only been mildly humid once so far - fingers crossed this pervades throughout summer.

Wagga's Civic Theatre depicted on a 1968 postcard when it was brand new.

We caught the finals of the Wagga Waggafest short film competition in our second week. The theme was ‘winter’ but that was interpreted with great license. Only two offerings included particularly featured the season/weather, there were several whacky animations, explorations of friendship and depression  and, my favourite,  I Ride to Fly about a young girl’s exhilaration riding her pony. The quality of the films and the atmosphere in the auditorium (Civic Theatre again) made it a heart-warming and memorable night and we learned so much about our new location.

We are still collecting our mail weekly from Sydney so need to put in a redirection, meanwhile I was delighted when we received a letter for someone called ‘Darius Crick’ at our new address – sounds  so delightfully rustic. Speaking of rustic,  I haven’t been able to tune my car radio yet and when I try  mainly get both kinds of music – country and western.

My spouse is very content in his new job and has something of a new lease on life. I am fretting  a bit about employment for  the rest of us but this is only week 4 and there are still possessions aplenty  to assign to their places whether those places be onsite or at the local op shop!   

Opposing amendments to the Racial Discrimination Act 1975

I'm overdue to post. Thought I would share my contribution to a joint submission to the Federal Government protesting their intended changes to the Racial Discrimination Act 1975. On of their  main motivations is to ensure the obnoxious journalist Andrew Bolt can continue to smear and malign Indigenous Australians.

I am an Australian of mixed European descent. On my father's side I am descended from a convict who ran a tavern in Van Diemen’s Land and a Swiss musician, and on my mother's side I have Welsh and Romany forebears. I was born in England in 1956 to an English mother and Australian father. I remember how growing up in a suburb of  south London  we children were told not to play with the kids of the only Indian family in the street. I also remember household items we had featuring Aboriginal motifs and figures of hunters and that my dad used to refer to indigenous Australians as 'boongs'.  This level of racism was commonplace in the 1950s and 60s.

When my family arrived in Australia in 1968 we settled in the Sutherland Shire. It was quite monocultural in those days – I don't know if the one Dutch, one Italian and one Taiwanese kid in my year suffered racial taunts but I was relentlessly teased as a ‘pommy.’ There were also a lot of disparaging remarks made about anyone from the western suburbs with special derision reserved for ‘Bankstowners’. At the time I didn’t realise that ‘Bankstowner’ was virtually synonymous with ‘wog’ but the ethnicity of these ‘intruders’ on Cronulla’s golden sands was definitely an issue, one addressed with both verbal and physical attacks. As the Cronulla riots proved several decades later race hatred is still thriving amongst some in the Shire.

 When I joined the workforce in the 1980s I encountered discrimination of many kinds. Sexism was prevalent and very few people not born in this country and of Anglo-Celtic background made it into supervisory or management jobs also very few  jobs of any kind went to indigenous Australians.  When equal employment opportunity legislation was introduced in 1987 I was a trainer in the public service responsible for getting recruiters and decisions makers to question their prejudicial beliefs about women and  migrants and to adopt the merit principal in all areas of employment.

It wasn’t until I worked in the arts sector for a number of years that I (knowingly) met any Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people. Later I saw the establishment of units set up in government agencies to attract and retain indigenous recruits.  In the same era I was involved in setting up career development and mentoring programs for people with disabilities and of CALD (culturally and linguistically diverse) backgrounds. I have also been involved in Access and Equity committees in two agencies.

 Throughout the 40 plus years I have been in Australia  I have seen ours become a more  inclusive society and much of the overt racism that was common in the 1960s and 70s has stopped. I am firmly convinced that the Racial Discrimination Act 1975 has made a major contribution to this situation.  Having been involved in training to change preconceptions about and antagonism towards various groups within the workplace I realise that to affect change we need both positive laws and programs such as equal employment opportunity and affirmative action and  also sanctions against injurious speech and behaviour. Section 18B provides such a sanction by focussing on the racial dimensions of racist speech and conduct – its removal would make it harder to prove racial vilification if other slurs or insults are involved in the behaviour. Section 18E provides incentives for employers to protect employees from racial harassment and vilification – its removal could have the effect of diluting their commitment and vigilance.

It is completely appropriate to review racial vilification legislation from time to time to assess its effectiveness. The facts are that  the Racial Discrimination Act as it is currently worded achieves a good balance between defining as unlawful public conduct that is reasonably likely to offend insult, humiliate or intimidate people on the basis of their race, colour, nationality or ethnicity and exempting discourse, art work or performance that proceeds reasonably and in good faith. That is, the Act as it stands embodies ample defence of freedom of speech. The records of cases taken to court under the Act show that this balance has been maintained in outcomes as well as in intent.

It is hard to see how the proposed changes to Section 18C and the revoking of sections 18B and 18E do anything to strengthen the Racial Discrimination Act ;  they patently do not provide “the strongest protections against racism that have ever appeared in any Commonwealth Act” as the Attorney General George Brandis  has claimed. 

Our existing clear and well articulated racial vilification laws and the accessibility of an effective mediation process they afford have helped to promote the racially tolerant society we want in Australia and have addressed the harms - social, psychological and physical - that  acts of race hate can cause.  I am most strongly opposed to their dilution.

 

What I learned last year

Well, it is the beginning of brand new year and time to reflect on what 2013 brought and the lessons  I want to take away from it.

2012  ended with me feeling pretty proud of myself for losing weight through participating in  a trial conducted by the University of Sydney over 12 months. For the first time ever we went away for Christmas and experienced the delights of Bembooka but also the disappointment of the Merimbula restaurant we'd booked 6 months prior for Christmas lunch (and confirmed twice by phone) being closed! Embarked on campaign of defaming unrepentant restaurant owner who then had a change of heart and sent us a gift voucher.

January – Discovered that a heart attack can mask its symptoms when, after his third case of apparent food poisoning in as many weeks, a dear friend was rushed to hospital and  told he had actually experienced a series of heart attacks. He was found to have heart arrhythmia and blockages in his arteries and needed a defibrillator and a pacemaker fitted. He almost died but that was a trivial interruption to looking debonair in silk pyjamas and flirting with the nurses.

Lesson: Dwelling morbidly on your own misfortunes and discomforts isn’t always misplaced.

February – Broke my ankle on the way to work and began almost 5 months of impaired mobility, dependency, irritability, muscle atrophy and weight gain. Because of Mr O’Farrell’s enlightened decision to remove workers’ compensation rights in such cases I exhausted every sort of paid leave available to me. I also watched every episode of  Boardwalk Empire and Breaking Bad and discovered the joys of researching and posting about aspects of Sydney’s history on Facebook. 

Lessons: Dwelling morbidly on your own misfortunes and discomforts can be counterproductive. There are lots of like minded enthusiasts for archival photographs and obscure anecdotes out there, joining with them to share and publish images and stories is an undiluted joy. Charlie Cox is hot!

March –  returned to full time work after working from home part time for about 6 weeks – transition was premature as I got exhausted and weepy – read that depression after injury is not uncommon. Started on reduced hours. At this stage still travelling everywhere by car, enjoying ‘passive’ recreation like exhibitions, theatre and film but pining dreadfully for proper walks in the park and my beloved aquarobics.

Lesson: Dwelling morbidly on your own misfortunes and discomforts can be unavoidable but remember to carpe diem within your restrictions.

April – Attended a fascinating ‘How to research your house’ workshop at the local library and an open day a Tempe House; visited Elizabeth Bay House and had an informative and amusing guided tour from a new Facebook friend. Moonbootedness prevented me exploring the grounds of these two beautiful buildings but just drinking in their atmosphere and views was really restorative. Continued my historic Sydney research and discovered that there were once houses in Sydney called The Poffle and Toft Monks.

Lessons: Misfortune and discomfort can be transcended by whimsy and humour. Fine architecture and landscape are good for the soul.  You can be an official historic house guide and still make commode jokes.

May –  Had the third of  3  scans showing minimal healing of my fracture – calcium deficiency addressed by taking  ludicrous amounts of Vit D and suffering consequential digestive horrors. Took my first bus trips of the year to attend WEA in Bathurst Street to upgrade my Cert IV in Training and Assessment qualification. Able to stand for long enough periods to start running courses again. Laughed ourselves silly at the slapstick and banter of ‘One Man Two Guvnors’ at Sydney Theatre.

Lesson: Achievements are relative. Catching a bus and being re-accredited can feel pretty good when you’ve been metaphorically treading water almost all year.  You should never let too long pass without seeing some top notch theatre.

June – Fourth month  in the boot, hobbled about at Milson’s Point to watch Vivid far from the madding crowds at the Quay. Decided to abandon  new multifocals after feeling seasick on dry land for 6 weeks and reverted to wearing glasses just for reading and computer work. Reaction could have been exacerbated by my still uneven gait and poor balance.

Lessons: Sydneysiders are suckers for light shows and fireworks. Kirribilli looks interesting and I will visit it in the daylight  when I am mobile again. Multifocals are not for everyone.

July – Visited open day St Peter’s Church and graveyard in Tempe, my first visit despite living in the area over half my life. No matter how often you see these churchyards the incidence of infant mortality in the 19thC just blows you away. Speakers donned costumes and assumed silly voices, was reminded that local historical societies are magnets for eccentrics. Recital on church organ included theme to Wallace and Gromit! Became boot free just in time for spouse to be diagnosed with blocked/constricted arteries  to the heart and admitted to hospital for stent insertion. 

Lessons: A stent makes the heart go stronger. Everyone needs to find their own personal incentive to quit a bad habit, smoking in this case. The theme to Wallace and Gromit is a fine piece that belongs in the repertoire of all serious musicians.

August – Back at uni and the reading fairly demanding. Luckily post grad students can access almost everything online. Perfected surfing various heritage sites,  UTS Blackboard, Facebook  and Scrabble in  quick succession  whilst ‘studying’.  Discovered Prouds/ Angus & Coote watch and jewellery repairer in the Dymocks building – revitalised my watches including an art deco one purchased on eBay.

Lessons: Rejecting  the throwaway society and get things repaired is very satisfying. The motifs in the Dymocks building tiles are NOT swastikas.

September  - To Canberra to see the Turner exhibition and to try to ignore the Tony Abbott/Kevin Rudd contest. Largely successful. Saw the old Rookwood Mortuary station re-invented as All Saints church in Ainslie.

Lessons: Turner is quite phenomenal in being a technically brilliant draftsman and also able to paint in an entirely atmospheric style. It isn’t an exaggeration to invoke him as the major link between classical and modern painting.  Rejecting demolish and re-develop Sydney culture and recycling beautiful architecture has very satisfying results.

October – For my Masters in Adult Education observed family  lawyers running their advice service at Parramatta Courthouse for 3 hours. Had to make ethnographically detailed notes of my observations.

Lessons: Watching how meaning and learning are produced in the moment by talented professionals in action is revelatory. Keeping chickens in a courthouse courtyard has a very calming affect and  gives employees access to free range eggs.

November  - Got our first ‘real’ boss at work for some time. Spent nine days in Tasmania visiting Hobart, Freycinet and Bicheno. Saw MONA (again),  refurbished Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Runnymede, penguins, the Salamanca Markets and lots of wine glasses. Had a 5 star meal at Remy de Provence.  

Lessons: Having a boss who says you remind him of Joan Plowright is quite flattering and motivating.  Environmentalism and barista skills are well established in the Apple Isle. Be it ever so humble there’s no place like home.

December – Visited Rouse Hill House on a very hot Saturday. Felt strangely unexcited about buying Christmas presents for a hotch potch of grown ups. Got my uni results – received a distinction for the family/lawyer chicken report.  Lunched at an open restaurant on Christmas Day. Hosted a barbecue for family and friends on 29^th

Lessons: Rouse Hill House is REALLY worth visiting – it is unique in containing the furnishings and effects of 6 generations of a single family. It contains a bespoke wallpaper frieze and  a framed photo from the family collection featuring Banjo Patterson and Breaker Morant! Without young kids involved  Christmas Day becomes quite ho hum. The best get togethers are the ones put together through  love and instinct.

Happy New Year!