An ecological history and future of the continent in five post-cards

Bidjara and Garingbal Country – Carnarvon Gorge

Hikers marvel at the great gorge impressed by the shelter that large caves and canyons offer and the intricate water systems where platypus thrive, occasionally swimming along the surface though notoriously shy of humans. The hikers imagine that the area must have provided great sustenance and protection for the Aboriginal people. Following the tracks of the famous 18th century explorer Leichhardt who ‘discovered’ the area, they notice settler engravings from this period. Settlers carved their names into the sandstone caves next to the Bidjara and Garingbal people’s storytelling marking burial sites and fertility patterns for thousands of years. E. Kennedy 1897 is engraved near the ocher stenciling of Bidjara and Garingbal people’s hands. A small historical museum in the nearest town Rolleston states that ‘Unfortunately the language and most of the mythology all disappeared with the invasion of the white people.’ While the invasion is regrettably correct the rest is untrue. Language and culture thrives even as the settler writes their name over it.


Gumbaynggirr Country – Bellingen

The Bellinger River cuts the small community into discrete sections, the north of the river and the south. The division is not felt by the rivers geography but is socially delineated by the tree changer/weekenders south of the river and the abandoned park and toilet block on the north. An influx of Sydney siders escalated house prices on the south where the majority of period homes with sweeping verandahs flourish. The separation most noticeably materialized when the Emporium opened on the south side selling designer fashion and home wares. The Emporium became a symbolic boundary that the town had crossed into commercial territories and could easily become the next Bangalow. And there was little anyone could do before the north side vanished entirely subsumed by city folk looking for a cheaper, better quality of life.

Before the arrival of people from Sydney the river of Bello (a nickname used by long-term residents/ locals) connected diverse wildlife to what remained of Gondwana. Hippies continue to swim in the water nourished by its offerings. Parked for the night in vans in the north side car park they hang on the banks where their naked bodies appear slightly out of place in the town’s current socio-economic context. Just beyond, nestled in the neglected park that the council don’t know what to do with, a large Flying Fox colony hang from trees singing ecstatically. Forgotten amongst the derelict cars and rubbish, which accumulates near the toilet block, they multiply with a profound frequency nurtured by the river. They aren’t going anywhere.


Yaygir and Yaegl Country – Maclean

Mice multiplied through the sugar cane fields, which swept into residential areas. Rumors moved through the small country town that a plague was forming. Some were positive, describing the inevitable ruin of cattle farming, which the mice triggered, as a step in a new direction. People gathered at the lookout, which had the clearest view of the Clarence River and allowed them to see the rodents fiercely breeding in the fields. Before long people started taking bets on how soon it would be before their homes were infested.

Vanishing cattle farms raised questions about the long-term relevance of the Abattoir. Most wanted to shut it down and reskill people, particularly the youth. Like many rural towns they had a ‘youth’ problem, which stained the otherwise likeable place. Unemployed youth hung outside Woolworths on the main street, while trawling through their phones. They needed to be educated but no one knew what the jobs of the future would be. Traditional manufacturing and industry had died out faster than farming and the town was told to be aspirational to avoid another generation of hospitality workers. But the community were also unclear about leveraging jobs through the start-up economy or other agile industries, which were evolving in the big coastal cities.

Overtime town meetings were called and councilors lobbied for increased federal funding for a new TAFE. And a sign was erected outside the pub quoting Bruce Pascoe’s 'Dark Emu'. It read:

Australian Farms of the future!
What would happen if we turned away from total reliance on sheep and cattle, and diversified into Emu and Kangaroo?

The sign was created by hippies from up north and believed to be part of a larger campaign to change the future by reminding people of the past. Similar signs appeared from Brisbane to Melbourne. It was graffitied quickly then taken down within days. Residents weren’t offended, some even liked the message, but it reminded people of the damage they’d caused and their ongoing shame.


Bundjalung country – Byron Shire

No one lives here anymore. Occasionally traces of the past are spotted, a yoga mat fluttering madly in the wind along a deserted shopping strip, a surfboard on the rocks, and even sightings of social media influencers whose orange tans glow so bright they’ve been known to pierce the naked eye. The mass exodus was linked to the council’s approval of a tourist zone, which increased building heights by ten floors in order to fit more holiday makers. The locals, who explicitly distinguished themselves from tourists believing that they belonged there because they owned property, packed up and moved down to Sydney because it was less crowded. And the absence of people let Hinterland forests grow in abundance, moving closer to the ocean as the holiday houses disappeared, and Bundjalung people were left to determine their future.


Wurundjeri/ Boon Wurrung Country of the Kulin Nations – Carlton

A gallery gives people something to hold onto in the densely urban environment where it was believed that ‘most’ blakfellas were no longer here. More than connection to culture it spoke to the cultural erasure that had been fortified by sandstone towers and the surrounding built form. Emu Sky contradicts the concrete and opens the bitumen to the plants and agricultural practices that have always been here. Lessons can be re-taught and mythology permeates artworks, which echo through the gallery walls illuminating the truth. Mistakes were made in a thousand towns and places across this continent which hide their histories in tourist slogans and the postcards we collect then forget when we travel unaware of whose Country we walk on. But new postcards are written, reaffirming the ecologies, which have survived and offer new beginnings.