My Space

“I live on Ngunnawal land*, currently owned by the Federal Government and managed by the ACT Government. I don’t own any land, but I lease the space along with many others. I don’t even own the structure of the building – I am part of a body corporate. I own the possessions in my flat, though, and so that flat is my space, even though it’s on the land of others

It was first taken from the Ngunnawal people by farmers and the occasional bushranger. The family that farmed this particular valley is still in the region and one of their ancestors wrote the first Australian Gothic novel. So this valley has consistently been science fictional since White settlement. Then the government took it, when we Federated and the regional was made into the capital.

This space has layers. The most ancient is the geological with a faultline running alongside my flat. Until quite recently, this was part of the Bogong Trail, for corroboree near Yankee hat in the Brindies**, so that was the most stable layer for humans. I don’t know how long the Bogong Trail was used or enough about other uses of this little valley, but we have clear evidence of it being 900+ years, in some paintings near Yankee Hat. My block of flats is the most recent layer. It was built in the 70s, before self-government in Canberra, and my flat was owned by the builder of the whole complex and then by a young couple and then by me. it still had the 70s carpet and kitchen when I moved in.

This has been my place since 1991. Me and my books.”

I am now remembering… the first thing that comes to mind is an Auntie (I won’t use her name because she’s no longer around, but it’s the same first name as the poor child who was murdered last December) who taught my Israeli dance class the dances of this country. Specifically this country: she was a Ngunnawal elder and these were her tradition. She was willing to teach us women’s business, but young Irwin refused to recuse himself.

“You can teach me anything,” he said.

“You’re male,” Auntie said, “And so you deny everyone the learning.” and so we only learned the dances.

Irwin explained his view to me afterwards. In his world, he had the right to learn everything. Mind you, in his world, also, he was a missionary. Totally lovely, and very very Christian.

I remember three steps, but I do them very badly.

One of the things I’d like to do this year is get to one of the bush tucker workshops at the National Museum. Since I cannot do this without a friend who has a car, I’d love to hear from anyone who’d like to do this with me. I can cook using local foodstuffs, but I only know them as adaptations of European foodways and they’re a lot more than that. I need to re-learn from someone with the right knowledge and that is (among others) a guy who does workshops for the national Museum.

For me, living anywhere requires constant (and respectful) learning. I wish the same applies to those who hate. It’s been bad this week.