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Wednesday, March 20, 2013

One Night The Moon

Landscapes give us a sense of belonging
They quarter their campfires passel by the creek. I wouldnt go down there at night I certainly fill come forth Im not welcome growled the laconic, gruff beam owner that wed hired to take us to the bosom of cattle country. His hand was large and scarred, clearly used to the use of big animals out here, building stock fences and no uncertainness slaughtering them to put food on the table for his family. It was the first intimacy hed said in active an min and he clearly felt strongly enough about these people on his vote out yes, I know that the conception of his is a little fuzzy given recent password about land ownership and Mabos battle in the high courts.
I wonder what the autochthonic population would differentiate about his warning. I wonder if they really would turn him out of camp. It brings to mind those old black and white etchings of natives with spears on angiotensin converting enzyme leg you know the garden ornament stereotypes that ardorn suburban Melbourne gardens and corrupt any real notion of what it means to be an Indigenous person in this country I mean, how humiliating! I can acknowledge how threatened the British felt, arriving on boats afterward weeks months at sea, having travelled from one side of the world to the other. It wouldnt have exactly felt like a welcome party.

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I bet there were many men and fair sex thinking about the white cliffs of Dover and wishing that theyd never said goodbye to the green fields of England, the land that had held them since they were babies and that they grew up knowing was theirs. All that ancestral connection to house must be a pretty thinly stretched cord over ten thousand miles or so of sea. I wonder if thats what many who have tried to represent here have been thinking ever since that one day, the blacks argon going to come over that hill or almost that river bed and make them go back to where they came from.
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