Статті в журналах з теми "River (S. Aust.) Environmental aspects"

The River Piancó in the municipality of Pombal on the western stretch of the state of Paraíba, Brazil, receives contaminated effluents. Current assay evaluates the microbiological quality of the river water and analyzes the social and environmental aspects of the riverine community with regard to the water and its use of the river. The water´s microbiological quality was verified at four sites on the river in five two-monthly collections throughout the year (totaling 20 samples) for the following analyses: Most Probably Number (MPN), Total (TC) and Fecal Coliform (FC) and identification of Escherichia coli. The social and environmental aspects were assessed by a 15-question questionnaire given to thirty homes. Results report Fecal Coliforms (> 240 to > 1,100 MPN 100 mL-1), Total (> 93 to > 1,100 MPN 100 mL-1) and high concentrations of E. coli (> 898 to > 1,100 UFC 100 mL-1) in all the sampling sites. The river is frequented by the riverine people for home consumption, recreation and fishing. Conditions of the River Piancó, especially in the stretch that margins the town of Pombal, are highly critical and exceed the limits of current Brazilian legislation with regard to drinking and swimming conditions.

Abstract Increased need for freshwater for human uses from the mid-1900s has severely impacted rivers and floodplain wetlands so that they are some of the most seriously degraded environments in the world. Research and monitoring in this area to date has focused on understanding ‘flow-ecology’ relationships, without investigating the mechanisms underlying them. The use of species traits offers a tool for defining mechanistic connections between biotic responses and environmental conditions. We examined nine macroinvertebrate trait categories in both wetlands and channels to determine whether their profiles responded to hydrology in the Gwydir River system in the northern Murray-Darling Basin, Australia. Trait responses were shown for the wetlands but not the river channels. Twelve traits showed positive relationships with the time the wetlands were connected to their river channels. It is unclear the reason(s) why the river channel invertebrate traits did not respond to hydrology. However, the use of environmental flows in the river systems may be important to other aspects of macroinvertebrate assemblages such as their role in food webs to support higher-order consumers.

In August 2021 Hurricane Ida devastated southeast Louisiana. On the basis of numerous pertinent meteorological-oceanographic (met-ocean) information including datasets and graphics as supplied by various public agencies, several unique topics related to marine meteorology and air-sea-land interactions are investigated. It is found that a newly proposed revised relation between minimum sea-level pressure and maximum sustained wind speed is verified during Ida. Characteristics of the rapid intensification, defined as an increase in the sustained winds of a tropical cyclone (TC) of at least 30 knots in a 24-hour period, is presented. Severe wave steepness (≥1/20) was measured continuously for approximately 3 hours when the wind speed ranged between 35 to 45 m s^-1 at 38 m and the wave direction was from the east. Estimations for the wind stress on the wind-seas and a coastal wetland are presented. Finally, hydro-meteorological phenomena related to the Mississippi River flow reversal and the storm surges along the river levees are also revealed. For operational use, estimation methods and forecast formulas related to above topics are also provided.

The influence of physicochemical properties of Haraz river on its zooplankton composition and abundance were investigated at three sites for one year between August 2009 and July 2010. The present study records for the first time the aspects of zooplankton diversity and composition in relation to the physicochemical environment of the Haraz river. Only three groups of zooplankton were found: Rotifera with eighteen genera; Cladocera with nine and Copepoda with six genera. Rotifera was the predominant group (64.89%), followed by Cladocera (19.62%) and Copepoda (15.32%). Upstream, the abundance was 805 individuals/m3, while it varied from 922 to 1126 ind/m3 downstream. Alkaline pH and nutrients were the main environmental factors which affected zooplankton abundance in the river. Site variation in dominance, diversity, evenness and richness were calculated. The study revealed that the presence of certain species, such as Lepadella sp., Mesocyclops sp., Polyarthra sp. and Brachionus sp. is considered to be a biological indicator for eutrophication. The calculated Jack1 values of sites 1 to 3 were 7.624, 16.426 and 19.221, respectively. The Shannon-Wiever species diversity index (H?) values were also different for all the three sites viz., site 1 (1.992), site 2 (1.21) and site 3 (2.48). Simpson?s dominance index (H) value was highest at site 1 (0.692), indicating maximum dominance, whereas at site 3 dominance was the lowest (0.227) and diversity was the highest. Overall, our results showed that changes in the water quality of the river Haraz have considerable effects on the composition of zooplankton assemblages that can potentially affect the functioning of these ecosystems.

This study compared the behaviour of pathogenic bacteria (Salmonella and Listeria), faecal indicators (faecal coliforms FC and faecal streptococci FS), somatic coliphages and F-specific bacteriophages in an urban river contaminated with domestic sewage and surface run-off from agricultural and cattle grazing lands. The influence of physical and chemical parameters was also investigated as well as Salmonella and Listeria serotype diversity and drug resistance patterns. Faecal contamination was high (FC = 5 × 106 - 4 × 103 CFU/100 mL; FS = 4 × 105 - 2 × 102 CFU/100 mL) but decreased along the river by up to 99.5% following 47% reduction of BOD5 and 91% increase of DO, both associated with the self purification process. Somatic coliphages (6.9 × 105 - 1 × 103 PFU/100 mL) and F-specific bacteriophages (5.8 × 104 - 65 PFU/100 mL) behaved similarly with reductions of 99.85%. Salmonella and Listeria were isolated at all sampling points with highest frequencies (91-100%) at those with sewage discharge and rural water run-off. The lowest value (35%) occurred at the end of the river where it was (a) wider and shallower, (b) it ran slower and was warmer (29-33°C), (c) the pH was alkaline (8.2-9.9), (d) electrical conductivity (2,200-5,800 μS/cm) and DO (6-13 mg/L) were highest. Pathogen decline did not follow exactly FC and FS reduction patterns, while physical and chemical parameters apparently did not interfere with Salmonella and Listeria survival to the same extent as they did with FC and FS. Somatic coliphages and F-specific bacteriophages did not show more resistance than bacterial indicators. Catchment area contribution seemed to be more significant for pathogens than for indicators and rainy periods increased pathogenic isolation frequency. Five Salmonella serotypes and five serogroups were identified. S. hadar and serogroup E were predominant (50%); both are increasing in Brazil apparently from animal sources. Nearly 25% of Salmonella strains were resistant to at least one of twelve antimicrobials tested. Resistance to tetracycline was common (17%) followed by cefalotine (3%). Five Listeria serogroups were isolated and L. grayi (43%) and L. monocytogenes (9%) were present at all points. Listeria drug resistance rates were 100% for oxaciline followed by clindamicine (97%), tetracycline (34%) and vancomycin (32%). Both pathogenic bacterial strains presented resistance to the same drugs observed in humans and warm blood animals but the high number of sensitive strains and the low numbers of strains resistant to more than one drug was not expected because of the heavy anthropogenic impact in this basin.

The demographic growth makes the demand for spatial and for natural resources to increase exponentially, the lack of planning potentializes urban problems and puts at risk areas of great environmental importance. Studies of socio-environmental vulnerability consider natural and anthropic aspects, are preceded by a classification and organization of elements that make up the portion of space to be analyzed. The Piracicaba River sub-basin is fully inserted in the territory of Minas Gerais. They highlight in their region economic activities such as mining, steel and forestry. Such a development has been causing impacts on the quantity and quality of water in the basin. Due to the economic importance of the region, it is necessary to analyze multivariate and qualitative parameters demonstrating the situation of the area, providing subsidies for proposing actions that minimize impacts and protect places with a high degree of conservation. In this context, this work aims, through GIS tools, to use a methodology that correlates environmental and social parameters, classifying the socio-environmental vulnerability of the Piracicaba River watershed. The methodology used allowed to identify areas with similar vulnerability, the region of the source of the Piracicaba River had the greatest environmental vulnerabilities, the municipalities Timóteo and Ipatinga had the greatest social and socio-environmental vulnerabilities.Keywords: Fragility; Sustainability; Geoprocessing. Análise de Vulnerabilidade Socioambiental da bacia do rio Piracicaba como indicador ambiental para a gestão dos recursos hídricos R E S U M O O crescimento demográfico faz com que a demanda espacial e por recursos aumente de forma exponencial, a falta de planejamento potencializa os problemas urbanos e põem em risco áreas de grande importância ambiental. Estudos de vulnerabilidade socioambiental consideram diversos aspectos naturais e antrópicos, são precedidos por uma classificação e organização de elementos que compõem a porção do espaço a ser analisada. A sub-bacia do rio Piracicaba, afluente do Rio Doce, objeto deste estudo, está totalmente inserida no território de Minas Gerais. Se destacam em sua região atividades econômicas de extrema importância para a economia mineira e do país, podendo destacar a extração de recursos minerais, as indústrias siderúrgicas, e a silvicultura associada à indústria de carvão e celulose. Tamanho desenvolvimento da região vem acarretando impactos na quantidade e qualidade de água na bacia. Sendo assim devido à importância econômica da região e sua riqueza de recursos naturais, se faz necessário realizar análises multivariáveis e em parâmetros qualitativos demonstrando a real situação da área, e fornecer subsídios para a proposição de ações que possam minimizar tais impactos bem como proteger os locais que ainda se encontram em alto grau de conservação. Neste contexto este trabalho tem como objetivo através das ferramentas em SIG, utilizar uma metodologia que correlacione diversos parâmetros ambientais e sociais, e assim classificar a vulnerabilidade socioambiental da bacia hidrográfica do Rio Piracicaba. A metodologia empregada permitiu identificar áreas com vulnerabilidade semelhante, a região da nascente do rio Piracicaba apresentou as maiores vulnerabilidades ambientais e os municípios Timóteo e Ipatinga apresentaram as maiores vulnerabilidade social e socioambiental.Palavras-chave: Fragilidade; Sustentabilidade; Geoprocessamento.

This book contains 14 articles selected from a special issue on the assessment of resilience and sustainability of the Mississippi River Delta as a coupled natural-human system. This effort is supported in part by a U. S. National Science Foundation grant. The goal of this book is to present some of the recent advances in research and research methodologies, major discoveries, and new understanding of the Mississippi River Delta, which represents one of the most challenging cases in finding the pathways for coastal resilience and sustainability because of the complexity of environmental and socioeconomic interactions. The articles are contributed by 39 researchers and they studied the deltaic system from five aspects including 1) riverine processes and sediment availability, 2) sediment deposition and land creation, 3) wetland loss, saltwater intrusion, and subsidence, 4) community resilience and planning, and 5) review and synthesis. As editors, by reviewing and putting these papers together, we have realized a major challenge in conducting an interdisciplinary assessment of resilience: How to identify a “Common Threshold” from different scientific disciplines for a highly nature-human intertwined river delta system? For instance, the threshold for sustaining a river delta in the view of physical sciences is different from that of social sciences. Such a common threshold would be a radical change and/or a collapse of a coupled natural-human delta system if nothing can be or will be done. Identifying the common threshold would help guide assessment and evaluation of the resilience of a CNH system as well as the feasibility and willingness of protecting the system’s resilience. We hope this book will be a first step toward inspiring researchers from different disciplines to work closely together to solve real problems in sustaining precious river delta ecosystems across the globe.

To fight invasion of Spartina alterniflora and conserve biodiversity of migratory shorebirds, several S. alterniflora marshes and bare mudflats have been restored back to Scirpus mariqueter marshes in the Yangtze River estuary in recent years. Although it is known that changes in plant cover in salt marshes alters the physical environment, findings on its effects on benthic communities are inconsistent and site-specific. In the present study, we tested how ciliates were influenced by a recent restoration. Ciliated protozoa play a key role in wetland benthic food webs and are useful bioindicators. We investigated 3 habitats: restored S. mariqueter meadow, S. alterniflora-invaded meadow, and bare mudflats, where we quantified environmental conditions, community composition (species and traits), and 3 aspects of biodiversity (classic, taxonomic, and functional diversity) over 4 seasons. CAP and ANOSIM were used to determine the differences among samples, while RDA and GLMs were used to reveal potential driving factors. We found that, although changes in the type of vegetation due to restoration or invasion significantly modified the sediment properties and ciliate species composition, it had limited influence on functional trait composition as well as on diversity, especially on functional diversity. These results indicate that the conversion of mudflats to S. mariqueter meadow did not affect ciliate community functions at the time scale of this study. However, biomonitoring based on microbenthic communities should be included when evaluating the long-term success of coastal wetland restoration.

Waste material flowing in rivers creates several problems in various aspects, especially in environmental aspects. One of the waste-capturing mechanisms which is widely applied is the trash rack. However, studies show that trash racks have the potential to block river flow which increases the risk of flooding. This study proposes a screw conveyor-based waste capturing mechanism with a modification of the blade’s design resembling a trash rack and integrated with monitoring system using the internet of things. The research was conducted through three methods of virtual prototyping, the CAD (Computer-Aided Design) design method through calculation of machine elements and 3-dimensional design process using Autodesk Inventor Professional 2018 software, the design analysis method which includes computational fluid dynamics analysis and three-dimensional stress analysis using ANSYS software, as well as methods for designing and testing monitoring systems using the open-source NodeMCU board and Google Firebase real-time database. The result obtained from this research are the design and specifications of screw conveyor components, v-belt transmission systems, ball contact bearings, and electric motors with a waste-capturing capacity of 0.368 m3/s. The results of the design validation show that the velocity of water flowing through the design geometry is not significantly reduced and the design is able to withstand a combination of self-load and pressure loads due to water flow. The monitoring website has been able to display real-time sensor-acquired data.

A bacia hidrográfica é uma unidade ambiental de grande importância para o planejamento e gestão de recursos naturais, sobretudo por ser detentora de biodiversidade e do funcionamento das diversas atividades humanas. Diante disso, o estudo morfométrico de bacias auxilia na tomada de decisão e na gestão de recursos hídricos. Nesse sentido, o objetivo do trabalho foi analisar as características morfométricas da bacia hidrográfica do rio Caripi, zona costeira amazônica, no estado do Pará. Foi utilizada técnicas de geoprocessamento para calcular os índices morfométricos, bem como a confecção dos mapas. A bacia do rio Caripi possui uma área de 475,26 km², seu formato é alongado, menos sujeita a inundações e apresenta um padrão de drenagem dendrítica com hierarquia fluvial de quarta ordem. A bacia apresentou valores de drenagem consideradas baixa e com pouca aptidão a formação de novos canais, indicando também um escoamento mais lento, maior infiltração da água no solo e maior tempo de concentração devido aos aspectos geomorfológicos e de relevo. O relevo da bacia é composto em sua maioria por áreas planas (41,87%) e suave ondulado (48,50%), possuindo uma amplitude altimétrica de 70,03 metros, e maior taxa de evapotranspiração de acordo com a orientação da vertente do terreno. Desse modo a pesquisa é essencial para dar subsídio ao planejamento hidrológico e ambiental da bacia do rio Caripi.Palavras-chave: Análise Hidrológica; Geoprocessamento; Planejamento Ambiental. Morphometric Characterization of the Caripi River Hydrographic Basin, Amazon Coastal ZoneA B S T R A C TThe hydrographic basin is an environmental unit of great importance for the planning and management of natural resources, above all because it holds biodiversity and the functioning of various human activities. Therefore, the morphometric study of basins helps in decision making and management of water resources. In this sense, the aim of the work was to analyse the morphometric characteristics of the hydrographic basin of the Caripi river, in the Amazon coastal zone, in the state of Pará. Geoprocessing techniques were used to calculate the morphometrics index, as well as the preparation of maps. The Caripi river basin has an area of 475.26 km², its shape is elongated, less subject to flooding and presents a dendritic drainage pattern with fourth-order river hierarchy. The basin presented drainage values considered low and with little aptitude for the formation of new channels, also indicating a slow runoff, greater water infiltration into the soil and longer concentration time due to geomorphological and relief aspects. The relief of the basin is composed mostly of flat areas (41.87%) and smooth wavy (48.50%), having an altimetric amplitude of 70.03 meters, and a higher evapotranspiration rate according to the orientation of the slope of the terrain. Thus, research is essential to support the hydrological and environmental planning of the Caripi river basin.Keywords: Hydrological Analysis; Geoprocessing; Environmental Planning

This paper describes the case history of a two-stage, low-rate anaerobic treatment system at a South American alcochemical and citric acid plant. Environmental concerns associated with land irrigation of a high-strength industrial wastewater forced the plant to implement wastewater treatment. This paper will also outline results from an on-site pilot study which was conducted to develop the design criteria for the full-scale system. The installed full-scale system will be described in detail, including the plant s physical layout, design parameters, system performance, biogas production and utilization, and some of its unique aspects. Among these is the use of a floating biofilter (bagasse) on the second stage to eliminate any nuisance odours from off gases. All biogas generated in the first stage is collected, with a significant portion drawn off and burned in a retrofitted 8000 kW boiler to generate process steam. The excess biogas is flared. Effluent from the treatment system is combined with other low-strength process plant streams and discharged to a river. During the first year of operation, performance has been very good, with chemical oxygen demand (COD), biochemical oxygen demand (BOD), and total suspended solids (TSS) removals averaging 74 percent, 93 percent, and 70 percent, respectively. The corresponding COD, BOD, and TSS results obtained in the pilot study were 74 percent, 96 percent, and 70 percent, respectively, and agree very well with those being obtained in full scale.

Com o intuito de conservar os recursos hídricos e a vegetação existente na bacia hidrográfica do rio Maior, foi criada a Área de Preservação Ambiental (APA) do Rio Maior, por meio do projeto de Lei Municipal n. 1.665/1998. No entanto, além da sua criação definida por lei, é necessário o seu gerenciamento, o que não ocorreu na APA do Rio Maior. Passados vinte anos da criação, ainda não foi instituído o Conselho Consultivo e, consequentemente, não foi elaborado o plano de manejo. Diante desse contexto envolvendo a APA do Rio Maior, desenvolveu-se estudo que tem como objetivo caracterizar os aspectos físicos, socioeconômico e socioambiental do território onde está inserida a APA. Para alcançar o objetivo proposto, utilizou-se de pesquisa documental, pesquisa bibliográfica e geoprocessamento. Como resultado do estudo, foram gerados produtos cartográficos da geologia, dos recursos minerais, da geomorfologia, da declividade, da altimetria, da pedologia, do clima, da hidrografia, da vegetação, dos aspectos históricos, da população residente nas comunidades inseridas dentro do território da APA, da estrutura fundiária, das atividades agropecuárias, das atividades comerciais, industriais e de serviços, dos aspectos relativos ao uso e cobertura da terra e os impactos socioambientais. Os mapas temáticos associativos e específicos produzidos são informações que poderão promover as análises qualitativas e quantitativas para fins de simulações e tomadas de decisão no contexto da elaboração do plano de manejo. A B S T R A C TIn order to conserve water resources and existing vegetation in the Rio Maior river basin, the Rio Maior Environmental Preservation Area (EPA) was created through the Municipal Law no. 1,665 / 1998. However, besides its creation defined by law, it is necessary to manage it, which did not occur in the EPA of Rio Maior. Twenty years after the creation of the Advisory Council, the management plan has not yet been established. Given this context involving the EPA of Rio Maior, a study was developed that aims to characterize the physical, socioeconomic and socio-environmental aspects of the territory where the EPA is inserted. In order to reach the proposed objective, we used documentary research, bibliographical research and geoprocessing. Because of the study, cartographic products of geology, mineral resources, geomorphology, slope, altimetry, pedology, climate, hydrography, vegetation, historical aspects, and population residing in communities EPA, land structure, agricultural activities, commercial, industrial and service activities, aspects related to land use and land cover, and socio-environmental impacts. The associative and specific thematic maps produced are information that can promote the qualitative and quantitative analyzes for the purposes of simulations and decision making in the context of the elaboration of the management plan.Key words: Conservation unit (CU). Geoprocessing. Environmental analysis.

Os impactos provenientes das atividades antrópicas sobre os ecossistemas aquáticos têm gerado grandes preocupações quanto à quantidade e qualidade dos recursos hídricos. No semiárido brasileiro, os reservatórios artificiais apresentam importância tanto de ordem social como econômica, entretanto, o processo de degradação tem comprometido seus múltiplos usos, tornando-se um entrave no âmbito da gestão ambiental. Particularmente, o reservatório Sobradinho, localizado no submédio São Francisco, contribui para diferentes usos, tais como, geração de energia, regularização da vazão do rio, abastecimento, agricultura, entre outros. Atualmente, o reservatório vem sofrendo grandes variações de armazenamento de água devido à variabilidade climática da região. O presente trabalho tem como objetivo apresentar as principais aplicações da comunidade de macroinvertebrados bentônicos e do sensoriamento remoto, enfatizando sua importância como subsídios à gestão de recursos hídricos, especialmente, na região semiárida. Além disso, busca-se descrever os aspectos gerais inerentes ao arcabouço legal e à estrutura institucional da gestão em bacias hidrográficas. Percebe-se a necessidade de estudos mais integrados que possam diagnosticar os fatores que contribuem para a degradação ambiental, servindo como suporte para um adequado gerenciamento dos recursos hídricos.Palavras-chave: Gestão; Reservatório Sobradinho; Qualidade ambiental; Geotecnologia; Ecossistema. A B S T R A C TThe impacts of anthropic activities on aquatic ecosystems have generated major concerns about the quantity and quality of water resources. In the brazilian semi-arid, artificial reservoirs are of both social and economic importance, however, the degradation process has compromised its multiple uses, becoming an obstacle in the ambit of environmental management. Particularly, the Sobradinho reservoir, located in the submedio São Francisco River, contributes to different uses, such as power generation, river flow regulation, supply, agriculture, among others. Actually, the reservoir has undergone great variations of water storage due to the climatic variability of the region. The present work aims to present the main applications of the community of benthic macroinvertebrates and remote sensing, emphasizing their importance as subsidies to the management of water resources, especially in the semi-arid region. In addition, it seeks to describe the general aspects inherent to the legal framework and the institutional structure of management in river basins. There is a need for more integrated studies that can diagnose the factors that contribute to environmental degradation, serving as support for an adequate management of water resources.Keywords: management, sobradinho reservoir, environmental quality, geotechnology, ecosystem.

Urban water quality management often requires use of numerical models allowing the evaluation of the cause–effect relationship between the input(s) (i.e. rainfall, pollutant concentrations on catchment surface and in sewer system) and the resulting water quality response. The conventional approach to the system (i.e. sewer system, wastewater treatment plant and receiving water body), considering each component separately, does not enable optimisation of the whole system. However, recent gains in understanding and modelling make it possible to represent the system as a whole and optimise its overall performance. Indeed, integrated urban drainage modelling is of growing interest for tools to cope with Water Framework Directive requirements. Two different approaches can be employed for modelling the whole urban drainage system: detailed and simplified. Each has its advantages and disadvantages. Specifically, detailed approaches can offer a higher level of reliability in the model results, but can be very time consuming from the computational point of view. Simplified approaches are faster but may lead to greater model uncertainty due to an over-simplification. To gain insight into the above problem, two different modelling approaches have been compared with respect to their uncertainty. The first urban drainage integrated model approach uses the Saint-Venant equations and the 1D advection-dispersion equations, for the quantity and for the quality aspects, respectively. The second model approach consists of the simplified reservoir model. The analysis used a parsimonious bespoke model developed in previous studies. For the uncertainty analysis, the Generalised Likelihood Uncertainty Estimation (GLUE) procedure was used. Model reliability was evaluated on the basis of capacity of globally limiting the uncertainty. Both models have a good capability to fit the experimental data, suggesting that all adopted approaches are equivalent both for quantity and quality. The detailed model approach is more robust and presents less uncertainty in terms of uncertainty bands. On the other hand, the simplified river water quality model approach shows higher uncertainty and may be unsuitable for receiving water body quality assessment.

This study was conducted to investigate the impact of changes in water management on water and salinity problems and crop production at field and basin level by analysing several probable scenarios. First, a simplified water and salinity basin model (WSBM) was developed for a quick analysis of river basin processes and was combined with the comprehensive field-scale model, SWAP (soil–water–atmosphere–plant). The WSBM model was calibrated and used for water resources analyses in Zayandeh Rud basin in central Iran. Observed and simulated stream flows were similar, proving that the model could be used for scenario analyses. Yield functions for cotton were developed with SWAP, including the impact of water quantity and quality on crop yields and field water and salinity balances. Three scenarios were considered. The first scenario analysed the effect of more efficient irrigation techniques on the basin water resources, where it was assumed that farmers would not accept lower water allocations if they invested in these more efficient techniques. Therefore, return flows would decrease and less water would be available for downstream users. It was concluded that the effect on the downstream irrigation schemes was dramatic, with a 22% decrease in yield. Obviously, upstream yields would increase. A second scenario was defined where the effect of an increase in water extraction for the town of Esfahan was evaluated. In terms of basin-scale water quantity aspects, this increased extraction was negligible as extractions were relatively low and return flows high. The last scenario was developed to study the additional releases required from the reservoir to provide sufficient water for expansion of the tail-end Rudasht irrigation scheme. If no restriction were imposed on water quality, additional releases from the reservoir would be limited. However, if salinity levels were not to exceed 2�dS/m, mean annual water release requirements from the reservoir would increase from 52 to 64 m3/s, and peak requirements during the irrigation season would increase from 85 to 112 m3/s. In this case, the crop yield would increase from 66% (for the baseline scenario) to 73%. Finally, it was concluded that the methodology and the models developed were useful for a swift and transparent analysis of past, current, and future water and salt resources, and to perform scenario analyses.

Several biomarker enzymes such as catalase (CAT) and glutathione S-transferase (GST) can be used to measure oxidative stress in animals caused by exposure to xenobiotics. The objective of the present study was to characterize different points of the Capivari (CP1 and CP2), Paraguaçu (PG1 and PG2) and Subaé (SB1 and SB2) Rivers, state of Bahia, in relation to the presence of xenobiotics, using CAT and GST as bioindicators in M. jelskii. The water-sampling sites were considered urban or rural and in all of them signs of environmental degradation were observed. Therefore, acute exposure tests (96h) were performed with water samples collected during the dry and rainy seasons. Results showed that the activity of CAT and GST in prawns exposed to water from CP1 and CP2 were very similar, while those exposed to water from PG1, PG2, SB1 and SB2 formed distinct groups of data. Significant increase in the activity of at least one of the analyzed enzymes in each sampling site was observed, when compared to animals in the control group. This demonstrated a possible oxidative stress in M. jelskii caused by the presence of xenobiotics in the water (e.g., domestic sewage, pesticides, oil, and heavy metals). Enzymatic activities were higher in animals from experiments carried out in the rainy season, except for the CAT activity of animals exposed to water from Subaé River. This study demonstrated the potential of M. jelskii as bioindicator and contributed to the knowledge of aspects of the antioxidant defense system of this species.

Groundwater sustainable yield is a concept widely treated theoretically in the literature. Moving from theoretical concepts to the definition of practical measures for groundwater management is not easy due to site-specific characteristics of the system. This study is aimed at identifying which factors influence the sustainable yield of the plain of Tivoli (Central Italy), where thermal springs with considerable flow (over 2 m3/s) emerge (or rather emerged) and supply a thermal plant. In the same plain, another profitable economic activity concerns the extraction of travertine; it caused a progressive decline in groundwater levels and in the discharge of the thermal springs. The hydrogeological history of the site and the data available in the literature and in new focused surveys are encapsulated in a simple flow model addressed to compare the pre- with the under-development conditions. The withdrawal of groundwater from the quarry area determined a significant impact on the water balance of the system. An increase in inflow from surrounding aquifers and a decrease in storage and in natural discharge of the travertine aquifer result in under-development conditions. Residual discharges towards the springs and river are very sensitive to the pumping flow rate of quarries, according to an inverse linear relationship; this hydrogeological feature may be adopted as an indicator of the sustainability of groundwater withdrawals from the plain. The residual discharge is most affected by the position of the pumping center in the groundwater flow net and its distance from boundaries to be captured, as well as on the depth and extent of the quarries. This lays the basis for developing sustainable management models of groundwater considering the economic and environmental aspects of the issue.

O desenvolvimento urbano ou rural acarreta pressão antrópica sobre corpos hídricos, podendo gerar problemas ambientais, sociais e econômicos. Para tentar mitigar os impactos dos projetos desenvolvimentistas precisa-se, primeiramente conhecer características da bacia hidrográfica a ser estudada. O objetivo deste trabalho é caracterizar aspectos relacionados a geo-hidrologia, morfologia e morfometria da bacia hidrográfica do rio Curuá-Una, Santarém, Pará, concomitantemente, avaliar a influencia das modificações de uso e ocupação do solo ocorridas na bacia entre 1985 e 2015 no regime hídrico. Para isso utilizou-se o software Mapwindow, imagem LANDSAT, modelo digital de elevação e plugin MGB-IPH. Os principais resultados obtidos foram: delineamento da área de drenagem com valor de 17.351,34 km2 e largura máxima = 125,78 km; as classificações de uso e ocupação do solo apresentaram que a classe vegetação média e alta sofreu redução de 10,76%, e a classe antropização e solo exposto aumento de 8,52% entre 1985 e 2015; o tipo de solo latossolo amarelo abrange uma área de 833,64 km2; a malha de drenagem tende acumular escoamento com alta intensidade no rio Curuá-Una, rio Moju, igarapé do Moju e igarapé do Puraquê. Os resultados para a avaliação da influencia das mudanças do uso e ocupação do solo no regime hídrico mostraram que a influencia não é significativa na escala da bacia. A caracterização da bacia do Curuá-Una possibilitou geração de base dedados capazes de descrever o comportamento hidrológico da região e dados métricos importantes para demarcação de espaços em tomadas de decisões. A B S T R A C TUrban or rural development entails anthropic pressure on water bodies, which can generate environmental, social and economic problems. In order to try to mitigate the impacts of the development projects, it is necessary first to know the characteristics of the hydrographic basin to be studied. The objective of this work is to characterize aspects related to geohydrology, morphology and morphometry of the Curuá-Una river basin, Santarém, Pará, concomitantly, to evaluate the influence of land use and occupation changes occurring in the basin between 1985 and 2015 in the Water regime. For this purpose, the software Mapwindow, LANDSAT image, digital elevation model and MGB-IPH plugin were used. The main results were: design of the drainage area with a value of 17,351.34 km2 and maximum width = 125.78 km; The land use and occupation classifications showed that the class of medium and high vegetation was reduced by 10.76%, and the anthropogenic class and exposed soil increased by 8.52% between 1985 and 2015; The type of yellow latosol soil covers an area of 833.64 km2; The drainage network tends to accumulate flow with high intensity in the Curuá-Una river, Moju river, Moju stream and Puraquê stream. The results for the evaluation of the influence of changes in soil use and land use in the water regime showed that the influence is not significant in the basin scale. The characterization of the Curuá-Una basin made possible the generation of base data capable of describing the hydrological behavior of the region and important metric data for space demarcation in decision-making.Keywords: Anthropogenic pressure, environmental problems, hydrographic basin, drainage network.

O estudo da fragilidade ambiental emergente é uma importante ferramenta de diagnóstico, fornecendo informações mais próximos do cenário ambiental da área e, assim, auxiliar na tomada de decisões para a implantação de políticas públicas. Para intervir nas ações antrópicas em favor da sustentabilidade e da responsabilidade ambiental, é fundamental reconhecer potencialidades e fragilidades inerentes aos espaços geográficos. Para tanto, objetivou-se com este trabalho, determinar e avaliar a fragilidade ambiental emergente, na bacia hidrográfica do rio Santa Maria do Doce no estado do Espírito Santo – Brasil, mediante análise integrada dos componentes ambientais relacionada ao relevo, às características do solo e aos diferentes tipos de uso e cobertura da terra que se inter-relacionam e resultam em diferentes níveis de fragilidade ambiental. O modelo metodológico fundamentou-se em ferramentas já consolidadas pela pesquisa acadêmica, incluindo adaptações, conforme as especificidades da área de estudo, mediante a aquisição de planos de informações geográficas disponibilizados por órgãos oficiais. A pesquisa contemplou também visitas de campo, ocasião em foram realizados registros fotográficos da em pontos da área de estudo. Os produtos cartográficos obtidos mostraram-se efetivo para relacionar causas a efeitos homem natureza, perceptíveis na bacia hidrográfica do rio Santa Maria do Doce. Evidenciando aspectos ambientais que devem ser priorizados, quando se trata da preservação do ambiente e da relação harmônica do homem com a natureza. Foi possível identificar que a bacia hidrográfica, tem predomínio da classe de fragilidade ambiental média, que está relacionada em especial ao tipo de solo e uso e cobertura, indicando a existência de locais com perturbações ambientais e suscetíveis aos danos com processos erosivos, que podem promover perda de solo e assoreamento requerendo assim, maior atenção dos gestores municipais na gestão e ordenamento do territórios inseridos na bacia hidrográfica do rio Santa Maria do Doce. Emerging environmental fragility from the Santa Maria do Doce hydrographic basin - ES, Brazil A B S T R A C TThe study of the emerging environmental fragility is an important diagnostic tool, providing information closer to the environmental scenario of the area, helping in decision-making for the implementation of public policies. In order to intervene in human actions in favor of sustainability and environmental responsibility, it is essential to recognize the potential and weaknesses inherent in geographical spaces. The present work had as objective the determination and evaluation of the emerging environmental fragility in the basin of the Santa Maria do Doce river, in the state of Espírito Santo - Brazil. An integrated analysis of the environmental components was carried out, related to the relief, the characteristics of the soil and the different types of land use and cover that are interrelated and result in different levels of environmental fragility. The methodological model was based on tools already consolidated by academic research, including adaptations, according to the specificities of the study area, through the acquisition of geographic information plans made available by official agencies. The research also included field visits, on which occasion photographic records were taken at points in the study area. The cartographic products obtained proved to be effective in relating causes to man-nature effects, perceptible in the basin of the Santa Maria do Doce River. Environmental aspects were highlighted that should be prioritized when it comes to preserving the environment and the harmonious relationship between man and nature. It was possible to identify that in the basin there is a predominance of the class of medium environmental fragility. This fragility is mainly related to the use, cover and type of soil, indicating the existence of places with environmental disturbances and susceptible to damage caused by erosive processes. Such processes can promote soil loss and siltation of drainage channels, thus requiring greater attention from municipal managers in ordering the land occupation in the basin of the Santa Maria do Doce River.Keywords: Geotechnology, natural resources, territorial ordering.

Foi avaliada a dinâmica sazonal da precipitação e da temperatura na dieta de Lontra longicaudis nas áreas de influência direta e indireta do reservatório Hidrelétrico Santo Antônio do Jari, Amapá, Brasil, para testar a hipótese do predomínio de itens de peixes no total de fezes e o aumento de itens de crustáceos e da diversidade de presas no período menos chuvoso. O estudo foi realizado na Usina Hidrelétrica Santo Antônio do Jari (UHE) localizada cerca de 150 km da foz do rio Jari com as coletas de fezes a cada trimestre durante 2016, 2017 e 2018 na montante e jusante dos rios em período chuvoso e período menos chuvoso, e os itens alimentares encontrados foram quantificados para cada categoria alimentar por meio da frequência de ocorrência relativa (FOr%) e calculada a média e o desvio padrão. Para verificar a relação entre a frequência alimentar e as variáveis climáticas foi realizada a ordenação por meio da Análise de Componentes Principais (PCA) com a auxílio do software estatístico R. Em 542 amostras de fezes analisadas, os peixes e crustáceos foram as classes mais consumidas ao longo dos três anos principalmente na jusante. Houve correlação positiva entre itens de peixes e precipitação, e itens de crustáceos temperatura. As informações obtidas são fundamentais como indicadoras ambientais para o manejo e conservação de lontra em ambientes naturais/ou impactados, principalmente quando associados com os aspectos climáticos na região amazônica. Precipitation and temperature as environmental indicators in the Neotropical Otter diet [(Lontra longicaudis (olfers, 1818)] in an area of influence of a hydroelectric reservoir on the Jari river, Amapá, Brazil A B S T R A C TWere evaluated the seasonal dynamics of precipitation and temperature in the Lontra longicaudis diet in the areas of direct and indirect influence of the Santo Antônio do Jari Hydroelectric Reservoir, Amapá, Brazil, to test the hypothesis of the predominance of fish items in the total of feces and the increase of crustacean items and the diversity of prey in the less rainy period. The study was carried out at the Santo Antônio do Jari Hydroelectric located about 150 km from the mouth of the Jari River with the collection of feces every quarter during 2016, 2017 and 2018 in the upstream and downstream rivers in the rainy season and less rainy season, and the food items found were quantified for each food category using the frequency of relative occurrence (FOr%) and the mean and standard deviation were calculated and to check the relationship between food frequency and climatic variables, ordering was performed by means of of Principal Component Analysis (PCA) with the aid of the statistical software R. In 542 samples of feces analyzed, fish and crustaceans were the most consumed items over the three years, mainly upstream. There was a positive correlation between fish items and precipitation, and temperature and crustaceans items. The information obtained is fundamental as environmental indicators for the management and conservation of otters in natural / or impacted environments, especially when associated with climatic aspects in the Amazon region.Keywords: Otter, environmental factors, diet, dam.

O artigo analisa a distribuição dos tabuleiros interiores no estado do Ceará. Nesse sentido, aspectos como agradação de sedimentos em ambientes fluviais e análise das coberturas colúvio-eluviais são pontos importantes na discussão. A partir da correlação de dados bibliográficos, cartográficos, altimétricos e morfoestruturais, foi proposta uma classificação dessas manchas e uma discussão acerca da evolução geomorfológica baseado na Índice de Concentração de Rugosidade (ICR) e processos denudacionais. A evolução geomorfológica dessas áreas demonstra a importância de fatores dentre os quais destacam-se a distribuição dos tabuleiros interiores em diferentes cotas, o que evidencia um importante dado quanto a dinâmica fluvial no Paleógeno/Neógeno sobre diferentes unidades de relevo. Assim, os tabuleiros interiores são feições que contribuem para o entendimento da evolução geomorfológica no Cenozoico no estado do Ceará, devido a fatores como o material geológico, que datam os processos que resultaram na agradação destes depósitos; e as formas, que apresentam níveis de dissecação e altitudes diferentes, auxiliando no entendimento das mudanças climáticas e alterações dos níveis de base local e regional.Palavras-chave: Formas agradacionais. Superfícies planas. Cenozoico. Geomorphology of interior tablelands in the state of Ceará - Northeast of Brazil A B S T R A C T The article analyzes the distribution of indoor trays in the state of Ceará. In this sense, aspects such as sediment pleasing in fluvial environments and analysis of colluvium-eluvial cover are important points in the discussion. Based on the correlation of bibliographic, cartographic, altimetric and morphostructural data, it was proposed to classify these spots and discuss the geomorphological evolution based on the Roughness Concentration Index (ICR) and denudational processes. The geomorphological evolution of these areas demonstrates the importance of factors among which stands out, 1 - the distribution of the interior boards in different levels, which shows an important data regarding the river dynamics in the Paleogen / Neogen over different relief units. Thus, the interior boards are features that contribute to the understanding of the geomorphological evolution in the Cenozoic in the state of Ceará, due to factors such as the geological material, which date the processes that resulted in the pleasing of these deposits; and the shapes, which have different dissection levels and altitudes, helping to understand climate change and baseline levels.Keywords: Gradational forms. Flat surfaces. Cenozoic.

RESUMOA erosão do solo é um indicador de degradação no meio físico, situação que causa prejuízo econômico e ambiental. Diante dessa problemática, essa pesquisa teve como objetivo analisar a vulnerabilidade erosiva para a bacia hidrográfica do ribeirão Conquistinha no Oeste de Minas Gerais. Foi aplicada a metodologia de análise multicritério de acordo com propostas da literatura. Em primeiro momento, realizou-se a confecção do banco de dados com as unidades de análise (componentes litológicos, aspectos geomorfológicos, solos, influência climática (chuva), vegetação nativa com cobertura predominante), seguido da identificação dos componentes formadores de cada unidade e a atribuição dos valores de vulnerabilidade à cada componente. Posteriormente foi realizado o cruzamento entre os valores individuais dos componentes para obtenção dos pesos representativos à cada unidade de análise. Em seguida, realizou-se o cruzamento entre os pesos obtidos para as unidades de análise, tendo como resultando a vulnerabilidade erosiva para a bacia hidrográfica. Os resultados são: alta vulnerabilidade erosiva (23.43%), média vulnerabilidade erosiva (27.72%), baixa vulnerabilidade erosiva (31.50%), muito baixa vulnerabilidade erosiva (17.34%).Palavras – chave: Erosão do solo; Unidades de análise; Análise multicritério. Analysis of the Erosive Vulnerability of the Watershed of the Conquistinha Stream in the West of Minas Gerais, Brazil A B S T R A C TSoil erosion is an indicator of degradation in the physical environment, which causes economic and environmental damage. Given this problem, this research aimed to analyze the erosive vulnerability to the Conquistinha stream watershed in West of Minas Gerais. The methodology of multicriteria analysis, was applied according to literature proposals. In the first stage, the database was prepared with the units of analysis (lithologic components, geomorphological aspects, soils, climatic influence (rainfall), native vegetation with predominant cover), followed by the identification of the formation components of each unit and the attribution of vulnerability values to each component. Subsequently, the individual component values were cross-checked to obtain representative weights for each unit of analysis. Then, the weights obtained for the analysis units were crossed, resulting in erosive vulnerability to the river basin. The results are: high erosive vulnerability (23.43%), medium erosive vulnerability (27.72%), low erosive vulnerability (31.50%), very low erosive vulnerability (17.34%).Keywords: Soil erosion; Analysis units; Multicriteria analysis.

Belém apresenta aspectos geomorfológicos e climáticos que convergem para uma situação constante de risco ambiental. As áreas de várzea, o elevado índice pluviométrico e as modificações decorrentes da urbanização favorecem a ocorrência de alagamentos principalmente durante a estação mais chuvosa. O presente estudo buscou entender como precipitação e a topografia colocam a população em situação de vulnerabilidade para inundações. Para tal utilizou-se a estimativa de precipitação com base na técnica do CMORPH, as cotas altimétricas foram geradas a partir de imagens do LANDSAT 8, os dados de vento obtidos pelo OpenGRADS e a mancha de inundação obtida a partir das Cartas de Suscetibilidade a Movimentos Gravitacionais de Massa e Inundações da CPRM. Identificou-se que no período mais chuvoso a porção continental apresenta os maiores picos de precipitação, acima de 300 mm. Entretanto, no trimestre SON, tanto na porção insular quanto na porção continental, a precipitação ficou em torno de 03 mm. O levantamento topográfico revelou que a maior parte da porção continental apresenta terrenos com cotas abaixo de 06 m em relação ao nível do rio. Além disso, se notou que a mancha de inundação da CPRM converge com o MDE, cotas abaixo de 50 m colocando a população da cidade em situação de vulnerabilidade. A omissão do Poder Público sobre esses fatores no planejamento urbano se traduz em uma vulnerabilidade socioambiental acentuada. Effects of precipitation and topography under the risk of floods in the city of Belém-PA A B S T R A C TBelém have geomorphological and climatic aspects that converge to a constant situation of environmental risk. The floodplain areas, high rainfall index and the modifications resulting from urbanization favor the occurrence of floods mainly during the rainy season. The present study sought to understand how precipitation and topography make the population vulnerable to flooding. For that, the precipitation estimation was used based on the CMORPH technique. The relief was extracted from the Digital Elevation Model and the wind data were obtained by OpenGRADS. The flood spot was generated by the CPRM. It was identified that in the rainy season the continental portion presents the highest peaks of precipitation, above 300 mm. However, in the SON quarter, in the insular portion as in the continental portion, the precipitation was around 03 mm. The topographic survey revealed that most of the continental portion presents lands with heights below 06 m in relation to the level of the river. In addition, it was noted that the CPRM flood spot converges with the MDE. Therefore, the topography of the city places it in a situation of vulnerability. This omission in urban planning translates into a marked socio-environmental vulnerability.Keywords: vulnerability, climate variables, urban areas.

Problem setting. One of the most important tasks of modern science of public management and administration is the further improvement of management technologies, management decisions in banking in particular and the increase of their efficiency and effectiveness. Accordingly, the scientific interest is not only in the study and the analysis of banking legislation of certain countries, but in the adaptation of national legislation to the directives of the European Union. The urgency of improving the mechanism of state regulation of the market for the provision of services for the collection of funds and transportation of currency valuables in the banking system of Ukraine is undeniable, the implementation of which should include the mandatory establishment of real requirements and measures of responsibility of managers of both individual financial institutions and regulatory bodies. Recent research and publications analysis. The organization of central banks of the world, their legal status, main functions, comparative aspects, regulatory activities in the field of the organization of cash circulation and cash collection were studied in the works of L. Voronova, D. Hetmantsev, V. Krotyuk, S. Yehorychev, M. Starynsky, P. Melnyk, S. Laptev, I. Zaverukha. Legal problems of legalization of firearms circulation in Ukraine were studied by А. Kolosok, P. Mitrukhov, P. Fries, S. Shumilenko and others. The works of V. Baranyak, V. Меzhyvy, М. Pinchuk, T. Pryhodko, V. Rybachuk, В. Tychyi, etc. are devoted to the study of legal problems of illegal handling of weapons. However, these works do not reflect the peculiarities of the use of firearms in subdivisions of collection of funds. Native and foreign scholars generally have not paid due attention to the study and the analysis of the existing model of cash circulation in Ukraine, its advantages, risks and disadvantages as well as the effective functioning of the market of collection of funds and transportation of currency valuables in the banking system of Ukraine. Highlighting previously unsettled parts of the general problem. The purpose of this article is to analyze the innovative foreign experience of state regulation of the market of collection of funds and transportation of currency valuables in the banking system of Ukraine (hereinafter – collection of funds) and to justify the need for its implementation in Ukraine. Another important problem in collection activities is the lack of legislative regulation of firearms trafficking as there is no law on weapons in Ukraine, there are only regulations of the Ministry of Internal Affairs of Ukraine, which greatly complicates its regulation by the state according to P. Fries. Paper main body. The market of collection of funds and transportation of currency valuables (hereinafter – the market of collection) is one of the most closed segments of the banking system of any country as a whole. The most popular way to pay for services and goods during the last few years, according to annual surveys conducted by the Swiss central bank, is cash. The important factor is that even with the spread of the COVID-19 coronavirus pandemic, the demand for cash and cash flow has increased significantly. The National Bank of Ukraine carries out regulatory activities in accordance with the requirements of the Law of Ukraine “On Principles of State Regulatory Policy in the Field of Economic Activity”. Collection of funds has never been a particularly profitable activity, for the subdivisions of collection of any country along with the staff and transportation costs, that is why to ensure the proper security of cash transportation is a very costly item of the estimate. In this regard, there is an urgent need for the adoption of the Law of Ukraine “On collection of funds and transportation of currency valuables” and “On firearms”, which would define the basic foundations, principles, forms of activities in the field of collection services, rights, duties and responsibilities of all participants in the collection market, in order to increase their reliability, safety and efficiency. In the countries of the European Union (EU), services for the collection and transportation of currency valuables are provided by public and private enterprises. In many EU countries there is no legal definition of the concept ‘collection’. In most cases, collection falls under the general legislation on the basics of security, except for Austria and Germany, which regulate such activities through professional organizations, insurance and collective agreements. Today, five foreign global CIT companies account for almost 60% of the global CIT market for cash collection and cash handling services. They are: – Brinks (USA) – 23%; – G4S (England) – 15%; – Loomis (Sweden) – 12%; – Prosegur (Spain) – 7%; – Garda (Canada) – 4%; – GSLS – 0.01%; – Other regional independent companies – 39%. In six EU countries (Denmark, Ireland, Greece, Sweden, Great Britain and the Netherlands) the presence of firearms during collection of funds is prohibited. In Belgium, Germany, France, Italy, Luxembourg and Spain, the presence of a weapon in the performance of professional collection duties is mandatory. Safe collection of funds largely depends on the fast, without delays, safe travel by road. Ukraine needs to reform its transport system to gain access to the European Union’s rail, road, river and air transport markets and to financial resources for building safe infrastructure of high quality. Conclusions of the research and prospects for further studies. Unfortunately, there are no well-known world CIT collection companies in the Ukrainian market of collection services and therefore Ukrainian banks and legal entities have to deal with local CIT companies, the authorized capital of which in some cases may be significantly less than the amount of the collected cash. In accordance with the mentioned above, for the effective functioning of the Ukrainian market of collection of funds and a balanced regulatory policy of the state, we suggest making appropriate changes and additions to the Laws of Ukraine on “Banks and Banking”, “National Bank of Ukraine”. To initiate the development and adoption of the Laws of Ukraine “On Collection and Transportation of Currency Valuables” and “On Firearms” which will ensure equal competitive conditions in the collection market for all its participants, reliable labor protection, social guarantees and rights of employees of collection divisions.

“People live here, they die here so they must leave traces.” (Read 140) “Whatever colonialism was and is, it has made this place unsettling and unsettled.” (Gibson, Badland 2) Introduction What does it mean for [a] country to be haunted? In much theoretical work in film and Cultural Studies since the 1990s, the Australian continent, more often than not, bears traces of long suppressed traumas which inevitably resurface to haunt the present (Gelder and Jacobs; Gibson; Read; Collins and Davis). Felicity Collins and Therese Davis illuminate the ways Australian cinema acts as a public sphere, or “vernacular modernity,” for rethinking settler/indigenous relations. Their term “backtracking” serves as a mode of “collective mourning” in numerous films of the last decade which render unspoken colonial violence meaningful in contemporary Australia, and account for the “aftershocks” of the Mabo decision that overturned the founding fiction of terra nullius (7). Ray Lawrence’s 2006 film Jindabyne is another after-Mabo film in this sense; its focus on conflict within settler/indigenous relations in a small local town in the alpine region explores a traumatised ecology and drowned country. More than this, in our paper’s investigation of country and its attendant politics, Jindabyne country is the space of excessive haunting and resurfacing - engaging in the hard work of what Gibson (Transformations) has termed “historical backfill”, imaginative speculations “that make manifest an urge to account for the disconnected fragments” of country. Based on an adaptation by Beatrix Christian of the Raymond Carver story, So Much Water, So Close to Home, Jindabyne centres on the ethical dilemma produced when a group of fishermen find the floating, murdered body of a beautiful indigenous woman on a weekend trip, but decide to stay on and continue fishing. In Jindabyne, “'country' […] is made to do much discursive work” (Gorman-Murray). In this paper, we use the word as a metonym for the nation, where macro-political issues are played out and fought over. But we also use ‘country’ to signal the ‘wilderness’ alpine areas that appear in Jindabyne, where country is “a notion encompassing nature and human obligation that white Australia has learned slowly from indigenous Australia” (Gibson, Badland 178). This meaning enables a slippage between ‘land’ and ‘country’. Our discussion of country draws heavily on concepts from Ross Gibson’s theorisation of badlands. Gibson claims that originally, ‘badland’ was a term used by Europeans in North America when they came across “a tract of country that would not succumb to colonial ambition” (Badland 14). Using Collins and Davis’s “vernacular modernity” as a starting point, a film such as Jindabyne invites us to work through the productive possibilities of postcolonial haunting; to move from backtracking (going over old ground) to imaginative backfill (where holes and gaps in the ground are refilled in unconventional and creative returns to the past). Jindabyne (as place and filmic space) signifies “the special place that the Australian Alps occupy for so many Australians”, and the film engages in the discursive work of promoting “shared understanding” and the possibility of both Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal being “in country” (Baird, Egloff and Lebehan 35). We argue specifically that Jindabyne is a product of “aftermath culture” (Gibson Transformations); a culture living within the ongoing effects of the past, where various levels of filmic haunting make manifest multiple levels of habitation, in turn the product of numerous historical and physical aftermaths. Colonial history, environmental change, expanding wire towers and overflowing dams all lend meaning in the film to personal dilemmas, communal conflict and horrific recent crimes. The discovery of a murdered indigenous woman in water high in the mountains lays bare the fragility of a relocated community founded in the drowning of the town of old Jindabyne which created Lake Jindabyne. Beatrix Christian (in Trbic 61), the film’s writer, explains “everybody in the story is haunted by something. […] There is this group of haunted people, and then you have the serial killer who emerges in his season to create havoc.” “What’s in this compulsion to know the negative space?” asks Gibson (Badland 14). It’s the desire to better know and more deeply understand where we live. And haunting gives us cause to investigate further. Drowned, Murderous Country Jindabyne rewrites “the iconic wilderness of Australia’s High Country” (McHugh online) and replaces it with “a vast, historical crime scene” (Gibson, Badland 2). Along with nearby Adaminaby, the township of Old Jindabyne was drowned and its inhabitants relocated to the new town in the 1960s as part of the Snowy Mountains Hydro-electric Scheme. When Jindabyne was made in 2006 the scheme no longer represented an uncontested example of Western technological progress ‘taming’ the vast mountainous country. Early on in the film a teacher shows a short documentary about the town’s history in which Old Jindabyne locals lament the houses that will soon be sacrificed to the Snowy River’s torrents. These sentiments sit in opposition to Manning Clark’s grand vision of the scheme as “an inspiration to all who dream dreams about Australia” (McHugh online). With a 100,000-strong workforce, mostly migrated from war-ravaged Europe, the post-war Snowy project took 25 years and was completed in 1974. Such was this engineering feat that 121 workmen “died for the dream, of turning the rivers back through the mountains, to irrigate the dry inland” (McHugh online). Jindabyne re-presents this romantic narrative of progress as nothing less than an environmental crime. The high-tension wires scar the ‘pristine’ high country and the lake haunts every aspect of the characters’ interactions, hinting at the high country’s intractability that will “not succumb to colonial ambition” (Gibson, Badland 14). Describing his critical excavation of places haunted, out-of-balance or simply badlands, Gibson explains: Rummaging in Australia's aftermath cultures, I try to re-dress the disintegration in our story-systems, in our traditional knowledge caches, our landscapes and ecologies […] recuperate scenes and collections […] torn by landgrabbing, let's say, or by accidents, or exploitation that ignores rituals of preservation and restoration (Transformations). Tourism is now the predominant focus of Lake Jindabyne and the surrounding areas but in the film, as in history, the area does not “succumb to the temptations of pictorialism” (McFarlane 10), that is, it cannot be framed solely by the picture postcard qualities that resort towns often engender and promote. Jindabyne’s sense of menace signals the transformation of the landscape that has taken place – from ‘untouched’ to country town, and from drowned old town to the relocated, damned and electrified new one. Soon after the opening of the film, a moment of fishing offers a reminder that a town once existed beneath the waters of the eerily still Lake Jindabyne. Hooking a rusty old alarm clock out of the lake, Stuart explains to Tom, his suitably puzzled young son: underneath the water is the town where all the old men sit in rocking chairs and there’s houses and shops. […] There was a night […] I heard this noise — boing, boing, boing. And it was a bell coming from under the water. ‘Cause the old church is still down there and sometimes when the water’s really low, you can see the tip of the spire. Jindabyne’s lake thus functions as “a revelation of horrors past” (Gibson Badland 2). It’s not the first time this man-made lake is filmically positioned as a place where “violence begins to seem natural” (Gibson, Badland 13). Cate Shortland’s Somersault (2004) also uses Lake Jindabyne and its surrounds to create a bleak and menacing ambience that heightens young Heidi’s sense of alienation (Simpson, ‘Reconfiguring rusticity’). In Somersault, the male-dominated Jindabyne is far from welcoming for the emotionally vulnerable out-of-towner, who is threatened by her friend’s father beside the Lake, then menaced again by boys she meets at a local pub. These scenes undermine the alpine region’s touristic image, inundated in the summer with tourists coming to fish and water ski, and likewise, with snow skiers in the winter. Even away from the Lake, there is no fleeing its spectre. “The high-tension wires marching down the hillside from the hydro-station” hum to such an extent that in one scene, “reminiscent of Picnic at Hanging Rock (Peter Weir, 1975)”, a member of the fishing party is spooked (Ryan 52). This violence wrought upon the landscape contextualises the murder of the young indigenous woman, Susan, by Greg, an electrician who after murdering Susan, seems to hover in the background of several scenes of the film. Close to the opening of Jindabyne, through binoculars from his rocky ridge, Greg spots Susan’s lone car coursing along the plain; he chases her in his vehicle, and forces her to stop. Before (we are lead to assume) he drags her from the vehicle and murders her, he rants madly through her window, “It all comes down from the power station, the electricity!” That the murder/murderer is connected with the hydro-electric project is emphasised by the location scout in the film’s pre-production: We had one location in the scene where Greg dumps the body in some water and Ray [Lawrence] had his heart set on filming that next to some huge pipelines on a dam near Talbingo but Snowy Hydro didn’t […] like that negative content […] in association with their facility and […] said ‘no’ they wouldn’t let us do it.” (Jindabyne DVD extras) “Tales of murder and itinerancy in wild country are as old as the story of Cain in the killing fields of Eden” (Badlands 14). In Jindabyne we never really get to meet Greg but he is a familiar figure in Australian film and culture. Like many before him, he is the lone Road Warrior, a ubiquitous white male presence roaming the de-populated country where the road constantly produces acts of (accidental and intentional) violence (Simpson, ‘Antipodean Automobility’). And after a litany of murders in recent films such as Wolf Creek (Greg McLean, 2005) and Gone (Ringan Ledwidge, 2007) the “violence begins to seem natural” (Gibson Transformations 13) in the isolating landscape. The murderer in Jindabyne, unlike those who have migrated here as adults (the Irish Stuart and his American wife, Claire), is autochthonous in a landscape familiar with a trauma that cannot remain hidden or submerged. Contested High Country The unsinkability of Susan’s body, now an ‘indigenous murdered body’, holds further metaphorical value for resurfacing as a necessary component of aftermath culture. Such movement is not always intelligible within non-indigenous relations to country, though the men’s initial response to the body frames its drifting in terms of ascension: they question whether they have “broken her journey by tying her up”. The film reconfigures terra nullius as the ultimate badland, one that can never truly suppress continuing forms of physical, spiritual, historical and cultural engagement with country, and the alpine areas of Jindabyne and the Snowy River in particular. Lennon (14) points to “the legacy of biased recording and analysis” that “constitutes a threat to the cultural significance of Aboriginal heritage in alpine areas” (15). This significance is central to the film, prompting Lawrence to state that “mountains in any country have a spiritual quality about them […] in Aboriginal culture the highest point in the landscape is the most significant and this is the highest point of our country” (in Cordaiy 40). So whilst the Jindabyne area is contested country, it is the surfacing, upward mobility and unsinkable quality of Aboriginal memory that Brewster argues “is unsettling the past in post-invasion Australia” (in Lambert, Balayi 7). As the agent of backfill, the indigenous body (Susan) unsettles Jindabyne country by offering both evidence of immediate violence and reigniting the memory of it, before the film can find even the smallest possibility of its characters being ‘in country’. Claire illustrates her understanding of this in a conversation with her young son, as she attempts to contact the dead girls’ family. “When a bad thing happens,” she says, “we all have to do a good thing, no matter how small, alright? Otherwise the bad things, they just pile up and up and up.” Her persistent yet clumsy enactment of the cross-cultural go-between illuminates the ways “the small town community move through the terms of recent debate: shame and denial, repressed grief and paternalism” (Ryan 53). It is the movement of backfill within the aftermath: The movement of a foreign non-Aboriginal woman into Aboriginal space intertextually re-animates the processes of ‘settlement’, resolution and environmental assimilation for its still ‘unsettled’ white protagonists. […] Claire attempts an apology to the woman’s family and the Aboriginal community – in an Australia before Kevin Rudd where official apologies for the travesties of Australian/colonial history had not been forthcoming […] her movement towards reconciliation here is reflective of the ‘moral failure’ of a disconnection from Aboriginal history. (Lambert, Diasporas) The shift from dead white girl in Carver’s story to young Aboriginal woman speaks of a political focus on the ‘significance’ of the alpine region at a given moment in time. The corpse functions “as the trigger for crisis and panic in an Australia after native title, the stolen generation and the war-on-terror” (Lambert, Diasporas). The process of reconnecting with country and history must confront its ghosts if the community is to move forward. Gibson (Transformations) argues that “if we continue to close our imaginations to the aberrations and insufficiencies in our historical records. […] It’s likely we won’t dwell in the joy till we get real about the darkness.” In the post-colonial, multicultural but still divided geographies and cultures of Jindabyne, “genocidal displacement” comes face to face with the “irreconciled relation” to land “that refuses to remain half-seen […] a measure of non-indigenous failure to move from being on the land to being in country” (Ryan 52), evidenced by water harvesting in the Snowy Mountains Scheme, and the more recent crises in water and land management. Aftermath Country Haunted by historical, cultural and environmental change, Jindabyne constitutes a post-traumatic screen space. In aftermath culture, bodies and landscapes offer the “traces” (Gibson, Transformations) of “the social consequences” of a “heritage of catastrophe” that people “suffer, witness, or even perpetrate” so that “the legacy of trauma is bequeathed” (Walker i). The youth of Jindabyne are charged with traumatic heritage. The young Susan’s body predictably bears the semiotic weight of colonial atrocity and non-indigenous environmental development. Evidence of witnesses, perpetrators and sufferers is still being revealed after the corpse is taken to the town morgue, where Claire (in a culturally improper viewing) is horrified by Susan’s marks from being secured in the water by Stuart and the other men. Other young characters are likewise haunted by a past that is environmental and tragically personal. Claire and Stuart’s young son, Tom (left by his mother for a period in early infancy and the witness of his parents strained marital relations), has an intense fear of drowning. This personal/historical fear is played with by his seven year old friend, Caylin-Calandria, who expresses her own grief from the death of her young mother environmentally - by escaping into the surrounding nature at night, by dabbling in the dark arts and sacrificing small animals. The two characters “have a lot to believe in and a lot of things to express – belief in zombies and ghosts, ritual death, drowning” (Cordaiy 42). As Boris Trbic (64) observes of the film’s characters, “communal and familial harmony is closely related to their intense perceptions of the natural world and their often distorted understanding of the ways their partners, friends and children cope with the grieving process.” Hence the legacy of trauma in Jindabyne is not limited to the young but pervades a community that must deal with unresolved ecologies no longer concealed by watery artifice. Backfilling works through unsettled aspects of country by moving, however unsteadily, toward healing and reconciliation. Within the aftermath of colonialism, 9/11 and the final years of the Howard era, Jindabyne uses race and place to foreground the “fallout” of an indigenous “condemnation to invisibility” and the “long years of neglect by the state” (Ryan 52). Claire’s unrelenting need to apologise to the indigenous family and Stuart’s final admission of impropriety are key gestures in the film’s “microcosm of reconciliation” (53), when “the notion of reconciliation, if it had occupied any substantial space in the public imagination, was largely gone” (Rundell 44). Likewise, the invisibility of Aboriginal significance has specificity in the Jindabyne area – indigeneity is absent from narratives recounting the Snowy Mountains Scheme which “recruited some 60,000 Europeans,” providing “a basis for Australia’s postwar multicultural society” (Lennon 15); both ‘schemes’ evidencing some of the “unrecognised implications” of colonialism for indigenous people (Curthoys 36). The fading of Aboriginal issues from public view and political discourse in the Howard era was serviced by the then governmental focus on “practical reconciliation” (Rundell 44), and post 9/11 by “the broad brushstrokes of western coalition and domestic political compliance” (Lambert, CMC 252), with its renewed focus on border control, and increased suspicion of non-Western, non-Anglo-European difference. Aftermath culture grapples with the country’s complicated multicultural and globalised self-understanding in and beyond Howard’s Australia and Jindabyne is one of a series of texts, along with “refugee plays” and Australian 9/11 novels, “that mobilised themselves against the Howard government” (Rundell 43-44). Although the film may well be seen as a “profoundly embarrassing” display of left-liberal “emotional politics” (44-45), it is precisely these politics that foreground aftermath: local neglect and invisibility, terror without and within, suspect American leadership and shaky Australian-American relations, the return of history through marked bodies and landscapes. Aftermath country is simultaneously local and global – both the disappearance and the ‘problem’ of Aboriginality post-Mabo and post-9/11 are backfilled by the traces and fragments of a hidden country that rises to the surface. Conclusion What can be made of this place now? What can we know about its piecemeal ecology, its choppy geomorphics and scarified townscapes? […] What can we make of the documents that have been generated in response to this country? (Gibson, Transformations). Amidst the apologies and potentialities of settler-indigenous recognition, the murdering electrician Gregory is left to roam the haunted alpine wilderness in Jindabyne. His allegorical presence in the landscape means there is work to be done before this badland can truly become something more. Gibson (Badland 178) suggests country gets “called bad […] partly because the law needs the outlaw for reassuring citizens that the unruly and the unknown can be named and contained even if they cannot be annihilated.” In Jindabyne the movement from backtracking to backfilling (as a speculative and fragmental approach to the bodies and landscapes of aftermath culture) undermines the institutional framing of country that still seeks to conceal shared historical, environmental and global trauma. The haunting of Jindabyne country undoes the ‘official’ production of outlaw/negative space and its discursively good double by realising the complexity of resurfacing – electricity is everywhere and the land is “uncanny” not in the least because “the town of Jindabyne itself is the living double of the drowned original” (Ryan 53). The imaginative backfill of Jindabyne reorients a confused, purgatorial Australia toward the “small light of home” (53) – the hope of one day being “in country,” and as Gibson (Badland 3) suggests, the “remembering,” that is “something good we can do in response to the bad in our lands.” References Baird, Warwick, Brian Egloff and Rachel Lenehan. “Sharing the mountains: joint management of Australia’s alpine region with Aboriginal people.” historic environment 17.2 (2003): 32-36. Collins, Felicity and Therese Davis. Australian Cinema after Mabo. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2005. Cordaiy, Hunter. “Man, Woman and Death: Ray Lawrence on Jindabyne.” Metro 149 (2006): 38-42. Curthoys, Anne. “An Uneasy Conversation: The Multicultural and the Indigenous.” Race Colour and Identity in Australia and New Zealand. Ed. John Docker and Gerhard Fischer. Sydney, UNSW P, 2000. 21-36. Gelder, Ken and Jane M. Jacobs. Uncanny Australia: Sacredness an Identity in a Postcolonial Nation. Carlton: Melbourne UP, 1998. Gibson, Ross. Seven Versions of an Australian Badland. St Lucia: U of Queensland P, 2002. Gibson, Ross. “Places, Past, Disappearance.” Transformations 13 (2006). Aug. 11 2008 transformations.cqu.edu.au/journal/issue_13/article_01.shtml. Gorman-Murray, Andrew. “Country.” M/C Journal 11.5 (this issue). Kitson, Michael. “Carver Country: Adapting Raymond Carver in Australia.” Metro150 (2006): 54-60. Lambert, Anthony. “Movement within a Filmic terra nullius: Woman, Land and Identity in Australian Cinema.” Balayi, Culture, Law and Colonialism 1.2 (2001): 7-17. Lambert, Anthony. “White Aborigines: Women, Mimicry, Mobility and Space.” Diasporas of Australian Cinema. Eds. Catherine Simpson, Renata Murawska, and Anthony Lambert. UK: Intellectbooks, 2009. Forthcoming. Lambert, Anthony. “Mediating Crime, Mediating Culture.” Crime, Media, Culture 4.2 (2008): 237-255. Lennon, Jane. “The cultural significance of Australian alpine areas.” Historic environment 17.2 (2003): 14-17. McFarlane, Brian. “Locations and Relocations: Jindabyne & MacBeth.” Metro Magazine 150 (Spring 2006): 10-15. McHugh, Siobhan. The Snowy: The People Behind the Power. William Heinemann Australia, 1999. http://www.mchugh.org/books/snowy.html. Read, Peter. Haunted Earth. Sydney: UNSW Press, 2003. Rundle, Guy. “Goodbye to all that: The end of Australian left-liberalism and the revival of a radical politics.” Arena Magazine 88 (2007): 40-46. Ryan, Matthew. “On the treatment of non-indigenous belonging.” Arena Magazine 84 (2006): 52-53. Simpson, Catherine. “Reconfiguring Rusticity: feminizing Australian Cinema’s country towns’. Studies in Australasian Cinemas 2.1 (2008): forthcoming. Simpson, Catherine. “Antipodean Automobility & Crash: Treachery, Trespass and Transformation of the Open Road.” Australian Humanities Review 39-40 (2006). http://www.australianhumanitiesreview.org/archive/Issue-September-2006/simpson.html. Trbic, Boris. “Ray Lawrence’s Jindabyne: So Much Pain, So Close to Home.” Screen Education 44 (2006): 58–64. Walker, Janet. Trauma Cinema: Documenting Incest and the Holocaust. Berkley, Los Angeles and London: U of California P, 2005.

In 2013, the Capricornia Arts Mob (CAM), an Indigenous collective of artists situated in Rockhampton, central Queensland, Australia, successfully tendered for one of three public art projects that were grouped under the title Flood Markers (Roberts; Roberts and Mackay; Robinson and Mackay). Commissioned as part of the Queensland Government's Community Development and Engagement Initiative, Flood Markers aims to increase awareness of Rockhampton’s history, with particular focus on the Fitzroy River and the phenomena of flooding. Honouring Land Connections is CAM’s contribution to the project and consists of several “memory poles” that stand alongside the Fitzroy River in Toonooba Park. Rockhampton lies on Dharumbal Country with Toonooba being the Dharumbal name for the Fitzroy River and the inspiration for the work due to its cultural significance to the Aboriginal people of that region. The name Toonooba, as well as other images and icons including boomerangs, spears, nets, water lily, and frogs, amongst others, are carved, burnt, painted and embedded into the large ironbark poles. These stand with the river on one side and the colonial infrastructure of Rockhampton on the other (see fig. 1, 2 and 3).Figure 1 Figure 2Figure 3Within this article, we discuss Honouring Land Connections as having two main functions which contribute to its significance as Indigenous cultural expression and identity affirmation. Firstly, the memory poles (as well as the process of sourcing materials and producing the final product) are a manifestation of Country and a representation of its stories and lived memories. Honouring Land Connections provides a means for Aboriginal people to revel in Country and maintain connections to a vital component of their being as Indigenous. Secondly, by revealing Indigenous stories, experiences, and memories, Honouring Land Connections emphasises Indigenous voices and perspectives within a place dominated by Eurocentric outlooks and knowledges. Toonooba provides the backdrop on which the complexities of cultural and identity formation within settler-colonial spaces are highlighted whilst revelling in continuous Indigenous presence.Flood Markers as ArtArtists throughout the world have used flood markers as a means of visual expression through which to explore and reveal local histories, events, environments, and socio-cultural understandings of the relationships between persons, places, and the phenomena of flooding. Geertz describes art as a social text embedded within wider socio-cultural systems; providing insight into cultural, social, political, economic, gendered, religious, ethnic, environmental, and biographical contexts. Flood markers are not merely metric tools used for measuring the height of a river, but rather serve as culture artefacts or indexes (Gell Art and Agency; Gell "Technology of Enchantment") that are products and producers of socio-culture contexts and the memories and experiences embedded within them. Through different methods, mediums, and images, artists have created experiential and intellectual spaces where those who encounter their work are encouraged to engage their surroundings in thought provoking and often-new ways.In some cases, flood markers have brought attention to the “character and natural history” of a particular place, where artists such as Louise Lavarack have sought to provoke consciousness of the movement of water across flood plains (Lavarack). In other works, flood markers have served as memorials to individuals such as Gilbert White whose daughter honoured his life and research through installing a glass spire at Boulder Creek, Colorado in 2011 (White). Tragedies such as Hurricane Katrina in New Orleans in 2005 have also been commemorated through flood markers. Artist Christopher Saucedo carved 1,836 waves into a freestanding granite block; each wave representing a life lost (University of New Orleans). The weight of the granite symbolises the endurance and resilience of those who faced, and will continue to face, similar forces of nature. The Pillar of Courage erected in 2011 in Ipswich, Queensland, similarly contains the words “resilience, community, strength, heroes, caring and unity” with each word printed on six separate sections of the pillar, representing the six major floods that have hit the region (Chudleigh).Whilst these flood markers provide valuable insights into local histories, specific to each environmental and socio-cultural context, works such as the Pillar of Courage fail to address Indigenous relationships to Country. By framing flooding as a “natural disaster” to be overcome, rather than an expression of Country to be listened to and understood, Euro and human-centric perspectives are prioritised over Indigenous ways of knowing and being. Indigenous knowledges however encourages a reorientation of Eurocentric responses and relationships to Country, and in doing so challenge compartmentalised views of “nature” where flooding is separated from land and Country (Ingold Perception; Seton and Bradley; Singer). Honouring Land Connections symbolises the voice and eternal presence of Toonooba and counters presentations of flooding that depict it as historian Heather Goodall (36) once saw “as unusual events of disorder in which the river leaves its proper place with catastrophic results.”Country To understand flooding from Indigenous perspectives it is first necessary to discuss Country and apprehend what it means for Indigenous peoples. Country refers to the physical, cosmological, geographical, relational, and emotional setting upon which Indigenous identities and connections to place and kin are embedded. Far from a passive geographic location upon which interactions take place, Country is an active and responsive agent that shapes and contextualises social interactions between and amongst all living beings. Bob Morgan writes of how “Country is more than issues of land and geography; it is about spirituality and identity, knowing who we are and who we are connected to; and it helps us understand how all living things are connected.” Country is also an epistemological frame that is filled with knowledge that may be known and familiarised whilst being knowledge itself (Langton "Sacred"; Rose Dingo; Yunupingu).Central to understanding Country is the fact that it refers to a living being’s spiritual homeland which is the ontological place where relationships are formed and maintained (Yunupingu). As Country nurtures and provides the necessities for survival and prosperity, Indigenous people (but also non-Indigenous populations) have moral obligations to care for Country as kin (Rose Nourishing Terrains). Country is epistemic, relational, and ontological and refers to both physical locations as well as modes of “being” (Heidegger), meaning it is carried from place to place as an embodiment within a person’s consciousness. Sally Morgan (263) describes how “our country is alive, and no matter where we go, our country never leaves us.” Country therefore is fluid and mobile for it is ontologically inseparable to one’s personhood, reflected through phrases such as “I am country” (B. Morgan 204).Country is in continuous dialogue with its surroundings and provides the setting upon which human and non-human beings; topographical features such as mountains and rivers; ancestral beings and spirits such as the Rainbow Snake; and ecological phenomena such as winds, tides, and floods, interact and mutually inform each other’s existence (Rose Nourishing Terrains). For Aboriginal people, understanding Country requires “deep listening” (Atkinson; Ungunmerr), a responsive awareness that moves beyond monological and human-centric understandings of the world and calls for deeper understandings of the mutual and co-dependant relationships that exist within it. The awareness of such mutuality has been discussed through terms such as “kincentrism” (Salmón), “meshworks” (Ingold Lines), “webs of connection” (Hokari), “nesting” (Malpas), and “native science” (Cajete). Such concepts are ways of theorising “place” as relational, physical, and mental locations made up of numerous smaller interactions, each of which contribute to the identity and meaning of place. Whilst each individual agent or object retains its own autonomy, such autonomy is dependent on its wider relation to others, meaning that place is a location where “objectivity, subjectivity and inter-subjectivity converge” (Malpas 35) and where the very essence of place is revealed.Flooding as DialogueWhen positioned within Indigenous frameworks, flooding is both an agent and expression of Toonooba and Country. For the phenomenon to occur however, numerous elements come into play such as the fall of rain; the layout of the surrounding terrain; human interference through built weirs and dams; and the actions and intervention of ancestral beings and spirits. Furthermore, flooding has a direct impact on Country and all life within it. This is highlighted by Dharumbal Elder Uncle Billy Mann (Fitzroy Basin Association "Billy Mann") who speaks of the importance of flooding in bringing water to inland lagoons which provide food sources for Dharumbal people, especially at times when the water in Toonooba is low. Such lagoons remain important places for fishing, hunting, recreational activities, and cultural practices but are reliant on the flow of water caused by the flowing, and at times flooding river, which Uncle Mann describes as the “lifeblood” of Dharumbal people and Country (Fitzroy Basin Association "Billy Mann"). Through her research in the Murray-Darling region of New South Wales, Weir writes of how flooding sustains life though cycles that contribute to ecological balance, providing nourishment and food sources for all beings (see also Cullen and Cullen 98). Water’s movement across land provokes the movement of animals such as mice and lizards, providing food for snakes. Frogs emerge from dry clay plains, finding newly made waterholes. Small aquatic organisms flourish and provide food sources for birds. Golden and silver perch spawn, and receding waters promote germination and growth. Aboriginal artist Ron Hurley depicts a similar cycle in a screen-print titled Waterlily–Darambal Totem. In this work Hurley shows floodwaters washing away old water lily roots that have been cooked in ant bed ovens as part of Dharumbal ceremonies (UQ Anthropology Museum). The cooking of the water lily exposes new seeds, which rains carry to nearby creeks and lagoons. The seeds take root and provide food sources for the following year. Cooking water lily during Dharumbal ceremonies contributes to securing and maintaining a sustainable food source as well as being part of Dharumbal cultural practice. Culture, ecological management, and everyday activity are mutually connected, along with being revealed and revelled in. Aboriginal Elder and ranger Uncle Fred Conway explains how Country teaches Aboriginal people to live in balance with their surroundings (Fitzroy Basin Association "Fred Conway"). As Country is in constant communication, numerous signifiers can be observed on land and waterscapes, indicating the most productive and sustainable time to pursue certain actions, source particular foods, or move to particular locations. The best time for fishing in central Queensland for example is when Wattles are in bloom, indicating a time when fish are “fatter and sweeter” (Fitzroy Basin Association "Fred Conway"). In this case, the Wattle is 1) autonomous, having its own life cycle; 2) mutually dependant, coming into being because of seasonal weather patterns; and 3) an agent of Country that teaches those with awareness how to respond and benefit from its lessons.Dialogue with Country As Country is sentient and responsive, it is vital that a person remains contextually aware of their actions on and towards their surroundings. Indigenous peoples seek familiarity with Country but also ensure that they themselves are known and familiarised by it (Rose Dingo). In a practice likened to “baptism”, Langton ("Earth") describes how Aboriginal Elders in Cape York pour water over the head of newcomers as a way of introducing them to Country, and ensuring that Country knows those who walk upon it. These introductions are done out of respect for Country and are a way of protecting outsiders from the potentially harmful powers of ancestral beings. Toussaint et al. similarly note how during mortuary rites, parents of the deceased take water from rivers and spit it back into the land, symbolising the spirit’s return to Country.Dharumbal man Robin Hatfield demonstrates the importance of not interfering with the dialogue of Country through recalling being told as a child not to disturb Barraru or green frogs. Memmott (78) writes that frogs share a relationship with the rain and flooding caused by Munda-gadda, the Rainbow Snake. Uncle Dougie Hatfield explains the significance of Munda-gadda to his Country stating how “our Aboriginal culture tells us that all the waterways, lagoons, creeks, rivers etc. and many landforms were created by and still are protected by the Moonda-Ngutta, what white people call the Rainbow Snake” (Memmott 79).In the case of Robin Hatfield, to interfere with Barraru’s “business” is to threaten its dialogue with Munda-gadda and in turn the dialogue of Country in form of rain. In addition to disrupting the relational balance between the frog and Munda-gadda, such actions potentially have far-reaching social and cosmological consequences. The rain’s disruption affects the flood plains, which has direct consequences for local flora and transportation and germination of water lily seeds; fauna, affecting the spawning of fish and their movement into lagoons; and ancestral beings such as Munda-gadda who continue to reside within Toonooba.Honouring Land Connections provided artists with a means to enter their own dialogue with Country and explore, discuss, engage, negotiate, and affirm aspects of their indigeneity. The artists wanted the artwork to remain organic to demonstrate honour and respect for Dharumbal connections with Country (Roberts). This meant that materials were sourced from the surrounding Country and the poles placed in a wave-like pattern resembling Munda-gadda. Alongside the designs and symbols painted and carved into the poles, fish skins, birds, nests, and frogs are embalmed within cavities that are cut into the wood, acting as windows that allow viewers to witness components of Country that are often overlooked (see fig. 4). Country therefore is an equal participant within the artwork’s creation and continuing memories and stories. More than a representation of Country, Honouring Land Connections is a literal manifestation of it.Figure 4Opening Dialogue with Non-Indigenous AustraliaHonouring Land Connections is an artistic and cultural expression that revels in Indigenous understandings of place. The installation however remains positioned within a contested “hybrid” setting that is informed by both Indigenous and settler-colonial outlooks (Bhabha). The installation for example is separated from the other two artworks of Flood Markers that explore Rockhampton’s colonial and industrial history. Whilst these are positioned within a landscaped area, Honouring Land Connections is placed where the grass is dying, seating is lacking, and is situated next to a dilapidated coast guard building. It is a location that is as quickly left behind as it is encountered. Its separation from the other two works is further emphasised through its depiction in the project brief as a representation of Rockhampton’s pre-colonial history. Presenting it in such a way has the effect of bookending Aboriginal culture in relation to European settlement, suggesting that its themes belong to a time past rather than an immediate present. Almost as if it is a revelation in and of itself. Within settler-colonial settings, place is heavily politicised and often contested. In what can be seen as an ongoing form of colonialism, Eurocentric epistemologies and understandings of place continue to dominate public thought, rhetoric, and action in ways that legitimise White positionality whilst questioning and/or subjugating other ways of knowing, being, and doing (K. Martin; Moreton-Robinson; Wolfe). This turns places such as Toonooba into agonistic locations of contrasting and competing interests (Bradfield). For many Aboriginal peoples, the memories and emotions attached to a particular place can render it as either comfortable and culturally safe, or as unsafe, unsuitable, unwelcoming, and exclusionary (Fredericks). Honouring Land Connections is one way of publicly asserting and recognising Toonooba as a culturally safe, welcoming, and deeply meaningful place for Indigenous peoples. Whilst the themes explored in Honouring Land Connections are not overtly political, its presence on colonised/invaded land unsettles Eurocentric falsities and colonial amnesia (B. Martin) of an uncontested place and history in which Indigenous voices and knowledges are silenced. The artwork is a physical reminder that encourages awareness—particularly for non-Indigenous populations—of Indigenous voices that are continuously demanding recognition of Aboriginal place within Country. Similar to the boomerangs carved into the poles representing flooding as a natural expression of Country that will return (see fig. 5), Indigenous peoples continue to demand that the wider non-Indigenous population acknowledge, respect, and morally responded to Aboriginal cultures and knowledges.Figure 5Conclusion Far from a historic account of the past, the artists of CAM have created an artwork that promotes awareness of an immediate and emerging Indigenous presence on Country. It creates a space that is welcoming to Indigenous people, allowing them to engage with and affirm aspects of their living histories and cultural identities. Through sharing stories and providing “windows” into Aboriginal culture, Country, and lived experiences (which like the frogs of Toonooba are so often overlooked), the memory poles invite and welcome an open dialogue with non-Indigenous Australians where all may consider their shared presence and mutual dependence on each other and their surroundings.The memory poles are mediatory agents that stand on Country, revealing and bearing witness to the survival, resistance, tenacity, and continuity of Aboriginal peoples within the Rockhampton region and along Toonooba. Honouring Land Connections is not simply a means of reclaiming the river as an Indigenous space, for reclamation signifies something regained after it has been lost. What the memory poles signify is something eternally present, i.e. Toonooba is and forever will be embedded in Aboriginal Country in which we all, Indigenous and non-Indigenous, human and non-human, share. The memory poles serve as lasting reminders of whose Country Rockhampton is on and describes the life ways of that Country, including times of flood. Through celebrating and revelling in the presence of Country, the artists of CAM are revealing the deep connection they have to Country to the wider non-Indigenous community.ReferencesAtkinson, Judy. Trauma Trails, Recreating Song Lines: The Transgenerational Effects of Trauma in Indigenous Australia. Spinifex Press, 2002.Bhabha, Homi, K. The Location of Culture. Taylor and Francis, 2012.Bradfield, Abraham. "Decolonizing the Intercultural: A Call for Decolonizing Consciousness in Settler-Colonial Australia." Religions 10.8 (2019): 469.Cajete, Gregory. Native Science: Natural Laws of Interdependence. 1st ed. Clear Light Publishers, 2000.Chudleigh, Jane. "Flood Memorial Called 'Pillar of Courage' Unveiled in Goodna to Mark the Anniversary of the Natural Disaster." The Courier Mail 2012. 16 Jan. 2020 <http://www.couriermail.com.au/questnews/flood-memorial-called-pillar-of-courage-unveiled-in-goodna-to-mark-the-anniversary-of-the-natural-disaster/news-story/575b1a8c44cdd6863da72d64f9e96f2d>.Cullen, Peter, and Vicky Cullen. This Land, Our Water: Water Challenges for the 21st Century. ATF P, 2011.Fitzroy Basin Association. "Carnarvon Gorge with Fred Conway." 8 Dec. 2010 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RbOP60JOfYo>.———. "The Fitzroy River with Billy Mann." 8 Dec. 2019 <https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=00ELbpIUa_Y>.Fredericks, Bronwyn. "Understanding and Living Respectfully within Indigenous Places." Indigenous Places: World Indigenous Nations Higher Education Consortium Journal 4 (2008): 43-49.Geertz, Clifford. "Art as a Cultural System." MLN 91.6 (1976): 1473-99.Gell, Alfred. Art and Agency: An Anthropological Theory. Clarendon P, 1998.———. "The Technology of Enchantment and the Enchantment of Technology." Anthropology, Art, and Aesthetics, eds. J. Coote and A. Shelton. Clarendon P, 1992. 40-63.Goodall, Heather. "The River Runs Backwards." Words for Country: Landscape & Language in Australia, eds. Tim Bonyhady and Tom Griffiths. U of New South Wales P, 2002. 30-51.Heidegger, Martin. Being and Time. 1st English ed. SCM P, 1962.Hokari, Minoru. Gurindji Journey: A Japanese Historian in the Outback. U of New South Wales P, 2011.Ingold, Tim. Lines: A Brief History. Routledge, 2007.———. The Perception of the Environment: Essays on Livelihood, Dwelling & Skill. Routledge, 2000.Langton, Marcia. "Earth, Wind, Fire and Water: The Social and Spiritual Construction of Water in Aboriginal Societies." Social Archaeology of Australian Indigenous Societies, eds. Bruno David et al. Aboriginal Studies P, 2006. 139-60.———. "The Edge of the Sacred, the Edge of Death: Sensual Inscriptions." Inscribed Landscapes: Marking and Making Place, eds. Bruno David and M. Wilson. U of Hawaii P, 2002. 253-69.Lavarack, Louise. "Threshold." 17 Jan. 2019 <http://www.louiselavarack.com.au/>.Malpas, Jeff. Place and Experience: A Philosophical Topography. Cambridge UP, 1999.Martin, Brian. "Immaterial Land." Carnal Knowledge: Towards a 'New Materialism' through the Arts, eds. E. Barret and B. Bolt. Tauris, 2013. 185-04.Martin, Karen Lillian. Please Knock before You Enter: Aboriginal Regulation of Outsiders and the Implications for Researchers. Post Pressed, 2008.Memmott, Paul. "Research Report 10: Aboriginal Social History and Land Affiliation in the Rockhampton-Shoalwater Bay Region." Commonwealth Commission of Inquiry, Shoalwater Bay Capricornia Coast, Queensland: Research Reports, ed. John T. Woodward. A.G.P.S., 1994. 1-107.Moreton-Robinson, Aileen. The White Possessive: Property, Power, and Indigenous Sovereignty. U of Minnesota P, 2015.Morgan, Bob. "Country – a Journey to Cultural and Spiritual Healing." Heartsick for Country: Stories of Love, Spirit and Creation, eds. S. Morgan et al. Freemantle P, 2008: 201-20.Roberts, Alice. "Flood Markers Unveiled on Fitzroy." ABC News 5 Mar. 2014. 10 Mar. 2014 <https://www.abc.net.au/local/photos/2014/03/05/3957151.htm>.Roberts, Alice, and Jacquie Mackay. "Flood Artworks Revealed on Fitzroy Riverbank." ABC Capricornia 29 Oct. 2013. 5 Jan. 20104 <http://www.abc.net.au/local/stories/2013/10/29/3879048.htm?site=capricornia>.Robinson, Paul, and Jacquie Mackay. "Artwork Portray Flood Impact." ABC Capricornia 29 Oct. 2013. 5 Jan. 2014 <http://www.abc.net.au/lnews/2013-10-29/artworks-portray-flood-impact/5051856>.Rose, Deborah Bird. Dingo Makes Us Human: Life and Land in an Aboriginal Australian Culture. Cambridge UP, 1992.———. Nourishing Terrains: Australian Aboriginal Views of Landscape and Wilderness. Australian Heritage Commission, 1996.Salmón, Enrique. "Kincentric Ecology: Indigenous Perceptions of the Human-Nature Relationship." Ecological Applications 10.5 (2000): 1327-32.Seton, Kathryn A., and John J. Bradley. "'When You Have No Law You Are Nothing': Cane Toads, Social Consequences and Management Issues." The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology 5.3 (2004): 205-25.Singer, Peter. Practical Ethics. 3rd ed. Cambridge UP, 2011.Toussaint, Sandy, et al. "Water Ways in Aboriginal Australia: An Interconnected Analysis." Anthropological Forum 15.1 (2005): 61-74.Ungunmerr, Miriam-Rose. "To Be Listened To in Her Teaching: Dadirri: Inner Deep Listening and Quiet Still Awareness." EarthSong Journal: Perspectives in Ecology, Spirituality and Education 3.4 (2017): 14-15.University of New Orleans. "Fine Arts at the University of New Orleans: Christopher Saucedo." 31 Aug. 2013 <http://finearts.uno.edu/christophersaucedofaculty.html>.UQ Anthropology Museum. 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Introduction Ngarrindjeri futures depend on the survival of the land, waters, and other interconnected living things. The Murray-Darling Basin is recognised nationally and internationally as a system under stress. Ngarrindjeri have long understood the profound and intricate connection of land, water, humans, and non-humans (Trevorrow and Hemming). In an effort to secure environmental sustainability the Ngarrindjeri Regional Authority (NRA) have engaged in political negotiations with the State, primarily with the Department of Environment and Natural Resources (DENR), to transform natural resource management arrangements that engage with an ethics of justice, redistribution, and recognition (Hattam, Rigney and Hemming). In 1987, prior to the formation of the NRA, Camp Coorong: Race Relations and Cultural Education Centre was established by the Ngarrindjeri Lands and Progress Association in partnership with the South Australian Museum and the South Australian Education Department (Hemming) as a place for all citizens to engage with the values of a land ethic of care. The complex includes a cultural museum, accommodation, conference facilities, and workshop facilities for primary, secondary, and tertiary education students; it also serves as a base for research and course development on Indigenous and Ngarrindjeri culture and history (Hattam, Rigney and Hemming). Camp Coorong seeks to share Ngarrindjeri cultural values, knowledges, and histories with students and visitors in order to “improve relations between Aboriginal and non-Aboriginal people with a broader strategy aimed at securing a future for themselves in their own ‘Country’” (Hemming 37). The Centre is adjacent to the Coorong National Park and 200 km South-East of Adelaide. The establishment of Camp Coorong on Ngarrindjeri Ruwe/Ruwar (land/body/spirit) occurred when Ngarrindjeri Elders negotiated with the Department of Education and Children’s Services (DECS) to establish the race relations and cultural education centre. This negotiation was the beginning of many subsequent negotiations between Ngarrindjeri, local, State, and Federal governments about reclaiming ownership, management, and control of Ngarrindjeri lands, waters, and knowledge systems for a healthy Country and by implication healthy people (Hemming, Trevorrow and Rigney). As Elder Tom Trevorrow states: The waters and the seas, the waters of the Kurangh (Coorong), the waters of the rivers and lakes are all spiritual waters…The land and waters is a living body…We the Ngarrindjeri people are a part of its existence…The land and waters must be healthy for the Ngarrindjeri people to be healthy…We say that if Yarluwar-Ruwe dies, the water dies, our Ngartjis die, the Ngarrindjeri will surely die (Ngarrindjeri Nation Yarluwar-Ruwe Plan 13). Ruwe/Ruwar is an important aspect of the public pedagogy practiced at Camp Coorong and by the Ngarrindjeri Regional Authority (NRA). The NRA’s nation building activities arise from negotiated contractual agreements called KNYs: Kungan Ngarrindjeri Yunnan (Listen to Ngarrindjeri people talking). KNYs establish a vital aspect of the NRA’s strategic platform for political negotiations. However, the focus of this paper is concerned with local Indigenous experience of teaching and experience with the education system rather than the broader Ngarrindjeri educational objectives in the area. The specific concerns of this paper are the performance of storytelling and the dialectic relationship between the listener/learner (Tur and Tur). The pedagogy and place of Camp Coorong seeks to engage non-Indigenous people with Indigenous epistemologies through storytelling as a pedagogy of experience and a “pedagogy of discomfort” (Boler and Zembylas). Before detailing the relationship of these with one another, it is necessary to grasp the importance of the interconnectedness of Ruwe/Ruwar articulated in the opening statement of Ngarrindjeri Nations Yarluwar-Ruwe Plan: Caring for Ngarrindjeri Sea, Country and Culture: Our Lands, Our Waters, Our People, All Living Things are connected. We implore people to respect our Ruwe (Country) as it was created in the Kaldowinyeri (the Creation). We long for sparkling, clean waters, healthy land and people and all living things. We long for the Yarluwar-Ruwe (Sea Country) of our ancestors. Our vision is all people Caring, Sharing, Knowing and Respecting the lands, the waters, and all living things. Caring for Country The Lakes and the Coorong are dying as irrigation, over grazing, and pollution have left their toll on the Murray-Darling Basin. Camp Coorong delivers a key message (Hemming, 38) concerning the on-going obligation of Ngarrindjeri’s Ruwe/Ruwar to heal damaged sites both emotionally and environmentally. Couched as a civic responsibility, caring for County augments environmental action. However, there are epistemological distinctions between Natural Resources Management and Ngarrindjeri Ruwe/Ruwar. Ngarrindjeri conceive of the River Murray as one system that cannot be demarcated along state lines. Ngarrrindjeri Elder Uncle Matt Rigney, who recently passed away, argued that the River Murray and the Darling is embodied and that when the river is sick it impacts directly on Ngarrindjeri personhood and wellbeing (Hemming, Trevorrow and Rigney). Therefore, Ngarrindjeri have a responsibility to care for Ngarrindjeri Country and Ngarrindjeri governance systems are informed by cultural and ethical obligations to Ruwe/Ruwar of the lower Murray River, Lakes and Coorong. Transmitting knowledge of Country is imperative as Aunty Ellen Trevorrow states: We have to keep our culture alive. We want access to our special places, our lands and our waters. We need to be able to protect our places, our ngatji [totems], our Old People and restore damaged sites. We want respect for our land and our water and we want to pass down knowledge (cited in Bell, Women and Indigenous Religions 3). Ruwe/Ruwar is an ethic of care where men and women hold distinctive cultural and environmental knowledge and are responsible for passing knowledge to future generations. Knowledge is not codified into a “canon” but is “living knowledge” connected to how to live and how to understand the connection between material, spiritual, human, and non-human realms. Elders at Camp Coorong facilitate understandings of this ontology by sharing stories that evoke questions in children and adults alike. For settler Australians, the first phase of this understanding begins with an engagement with the discomfort of the colonial history of Indigenous dispossession. It also requires learning new modes of “re/inhabition” through a pedagogy informed by “place-consciousness” that centralises Indigenous connection to Country (Gruenewald Both Worlds). Many settler communities embody a dualist western epistemology that is necessarily disrupted when there is acknowledgment from whence one came (Carter 2009). The activities and stories at Camp Coorong provide a positive transformative pedagogy that transforms a possessive white logic (Moreton-Robinson) to one of shared cultural heritage. Ngarrindjeri epistemologies of connection to Country are expressed through a pedagogy of storytelling at Camp Coorong. This often occurs during weaving, making feather flowers, or walking on Ngarrindjeri Country with visitors and students. Enactments such as weaving are not simply occupational or functional. Weaving has deep cultural and metaphorical significance as Aunty Ellen Trevorrow states: There is a whole ritual in weaving. From where we actually start, the centre part of a piece, you’re creating loops to weave into, then you move into the circle. You keep going round and round creating the loops and once the children do those stages they’re talking, actually having a conversation, just like our Old People. It’s sharing time. And that’s where our stories were told (cited in Bell, Ngarrindjeri Wurruwarrin 44). At Camp Coorong learning involves listening to stories while engaging with activities such as weaving or walking on Country. The ecological changes and the history of dispossession are woven into narrative on Country and students see the impact of the desecration of the Coorong, Lower Murray and Lakes and lands. In this way the relatively recent history of colonial race relations and contemporary struggles with government bureaucracies and legislation also comprise the warp and weave of Ngarrindjeri knowledge and connection to Country. Pedagogy of Experience A pedagogy of experience involves telling the story of Indigenous peoples’ sense of “placelessness” within the nation (Watson) as a story of survival and resistance. It is through such pedagogies that Ngarrindjeri Elders at Camp Coorong reconstruct their lives and create agency in the face of settler colonialism. The experiences of growing up in Australia during the assimilation era, fighting against the State on policies that endorsed child theft, being forced to live at fringe camps, experiencing violent racisms, and, for some, living as part of a diaspora in one’s own Country is embedded in the stories of survival, resilience and agency. “Camp Coorong began as an experiment in alternative teaching methods developed largely by George Trevorrow, a local Ngarrindjeri man” (Hemming 38). Classroom malaise was experienced by Ngarrindjeri Elders from Camp Coorong, such as Uncle Tom and Aunty Ellen Trevorrow and the late Uncle George Trevorrow, Aunty Alice Abdulla, and others when interacting or employed in schools as Aboriginal Education Workers (AEWs). It was the invisibility of these Elders’ knowledges inside schools that generated the impetus to establish Camp Coorong as a counter-institution. The spatial dimension of situationality, and its attention to social transformation, connects critical pedagogy to a pedagogy of place at Camp Coorong. Both discourses are concerned with the contextual, geographical conditions that shape people, and the actions people take to shape these conditions (Gruenewald, Both Worlds). Place-based education at Camp Coorong advocates a new localism in order to stimulate community revitalisation and resistance to globalisation and commodity capitalism. It provides the space and opportunity to develop the capacity for inventiveness and adaptation to changing environments and resistance to ecological destruction. Of concern to the growing field of place-based education are how to promote care for people and places (Gruenewald and Smith, xix). For Gruenewald and Smith this requires decolonisation and developing sensitivity to forms of thought that injure and exploit people and places, and re/inhabitation by identifying, conserving, and creating knowledge that nurtures and protects people and places. Engaging in a land ethic of care on Country informs the educational paradigm at Camp Coorong that does not begin in front of bulldozers or under police batons at anti-globalisation rallies, but in the contact zones (Somerville 342) where “a material and metaphysical in-between space for the intersection of multiple and contested stories” (Somerville 342) emerge. Ngarrindjeri knowledge, environmental knowledge, scientific knowledge, colonial histories, and media representations all circulate in the contact zone and are held in productive tension (Carter). Decolonising Pedagogy and Pedagogies of Discomfort The critical and transformative aspects of decolonising pedagogies emerge from storytelling and involve the gift of narrative and the enactment of reciprocity that occurs between the listener and the storyteller. Reciprocity is based on the principles of interconnectedness, balance, and the idea that actions create corresponding action through the gift of story (Stewart-Harawira). Camp Coorong is a place for inter-cultural dialogue through storytelling. Being located on Ngarrindjeri Country the non-Indigenous listener is more able to “hear” and at the same time move along a continuum of a) disbelief and anger about the dispossession of Indigenous peoples; b) emotional confusion about their own sense of belonging in Australia; c) shock at the ways in which liberal western society’s structural privilege is built on Indigenous inequality on the grounds of race and habitus (Bordieu and Passeron); then, d) towards empathy that is framed as race cognisance (Aveling). Stories are not represented through a sanguine vision of the past, but are told of colonisation, dispossession, as well as of hope for the healing of Ngarrinjderi Country. The listener is gifted with stories at Camp Coorong. However, there is an ethical obligation to the gifting that learners may not understand until later and which concern the rights and obligations fundamental to notions of deep connection to Country. It is often in the recount of one’s experience at Camp Coorong, such as in reflective journals or in conversation, that recognition of the importance of history, social justice, and sovereignty are brought to light. In the first phase of learning, non-Indigenous students and teachers may move from uncomfortable silence, to a space where they can hear the stories and thereby become engaged listeners. They may go through a process of grappling with a range of issues and emotions. There is frustration, anger, and blame that knowledge has been omitted from their education, and they routinely ask: “How did we not know this history?” In the second stage learners tend to remain outside of the story until they are hooked by an aspect that draws them into it. They have the choice of engagement and this requires empathy. At this stage learners are grappling with the antithetical feelings of guilt and innocence; these feelings emerge when those advantaged and challenged by their complicity with settler colonialism, racism, and the structural privilege of whiteness start to understand the benefits they gain from Indigenous dispossession and ask “was it my fault?” Thirdly, learners enter a space which may disavow and dismiss the newly encountered knowledge and move back into resistance, silence, and reluctance to hear. However, it is at this point that a choice emerges. The choice to engage in the emotional labour required to acknowledge the gift of the story and thereby unsettle white Australian identity (Bignall; Boler and Zembylas). In this process “inscribed habits of attention,” as described by Boler and Zembylas (127), are challenged. These habits have been enabled by the emotional binaries of “us” and “them”. The colonial legacy of Indigenous dispossession is an emotive subject that disrupts national pride that is built on this binary. At Camp Coorong, discomfort is created during the reiteration of stories and engagement in various activities. Uncertainty and discomfort are necessary parts of restructuring the emotional habitus and reconstructing identity. The primary ethical aim of a pedagogy of discomfort is the creation of contestability. The learner comes to understand the rights and obligations of caring for Country and has to decide how to carry the story. Ngarrindjeri ethics of care inspire the learner to undertake the emotional labour necessary to relocate their understanding of identity. As a zone of cultural contestation, Camp Coorong also enables pedagogies that allow for critical reflection on common educational practices undertaken by educators and students. Conclusion The aim of the camp was to overturn racism and provide employment for Ngarrindjeri on Country (Hemming, 38). Students and teachers from around the state come to Camp Coorong and learn to weave, make feather flowers, and listen to stories about Ngarrindjeri Country whilst walking on Country (Hemming 38). Camp Coorong fosters understanding of Ngarrindjeri Ruwe/Ruwar and at the same time overturns essentialist notions developed by deficit theories that routinely remain embedded in the school curriculum. Camp Coorong’s anti-racist epistemology mobilises an Indigenous pedagogy of storytelling and experience as a decolonising methodology. Learning Ngarrindjeri history, cultural heritage, and land ethic of care deepens students’ understanding of connecting to Country through reflection on situations, histories, and shared spaces of human and non-human actors. Pedagogies of discomfort also inform practice at Camp Coorong and the intersections of theory and practice in this context disrupts identity formations that have been grounded in a white colonial construction of nationhood. Education is a means of social and cultural reproduction, as well as a key site of resistance and vehicle for social change. Although the analysis of domination is a feature of critical pedagogy, what is urgently required is a language of hope and transformation understood from a Ngarrindjeri standpoint; something that is achieved at Camp Coorong. Acknowledgments I would like to acknowledge the process of collaboration that occurred at Camp Coorong with Aunty Ellen Trevorrow, Aunty Alice Abdulla, and Deborah Rankine. The key ideas were established in conversation and the article was revised on subsequent occasions whilst at Camp Coorong with the aforementioned authors. This paper was produced as part of the Australian Research Council Discovery Project, ‘Negotiating a Space in the Nation: The Case of Ngarrindjeri’ (DP1094869). 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IntroductionThis essay considers three design projects as microprotests. Reflecting on the ways design practice can generate spaces, sites and methods of protest, we use the concept of microprotest to consider how we, as designers ourselves, can protest by scaling down, focussing, slowing down and paying attention to the edges of our practice. Design microprotest is a form of design activism that is always collaborative, takes place within a community, and involves careful translation of a political conversation. While microprotest can manifest in any design discipline, in this essay we focus on visual communication design. In particular we consider the deep, reflexive practice of listening as the foundation of microprotests in visual communication design.While small in scale and fleeting in duration, these projects express rich and deep political engagements through conversations that create and maintain safe spaces. While many design theorists (Julier; Fuad-Luke; Clarke; Irwin et al.) have done important work to contextualise activist design as a broad movement with overlapping branches (social design, community design, eco-design, participatory design, critical design, and transition design etc.), the scope of our study takes ‘micro’ as a starting point. We focus on the kind of activism that takes shape in moments of careful design; these are moments when designers move politically, rather than necessarily within political movements. These microprotests respond to community needs through design more than they articulate a broad activist design movement. As such, the impacts of these microprotests often go unnoticed outside of the communities within which they take place. We propose, and test in this essay, a mode of analysis for design microprotests that takes design activism as a starting point but pays more attention to community and translation than designers and their global reach.In his analysis of design activism, Julier proposes “four possible conceptual tactics for the activist designer that are also to be found in particular qualities in the mainstream design culture and economy” (Julier, Introduction 149). We use two of these tactics to begin exploring a selection of attributes common to design microprotests: temporality – which describes the way that speed, slowness, progress and incompletion are dealt with; and territorialisation – which describes the scale at which responsibility and impact is conceived (227). In each of three projects to which we apply these tactics, one of us had a role as a visual communicator. As such, the research is framed by the knowledge creating paradigm described by Jonas as “research through design”.We also draw on other conceptualisations of design activism, and the rich design literature that has emerged in recent times to challenge the colonial legacies of design studies (Schultz; Tristan et al.; Escobar). Some analyses of design activism already focus on the micro or the minor. For example, in their design of social change within organisations as an experimental and iterative process, Lensjkold, Olander and Hasse refer to Deleuze and Guattari’s minoritarian: “minor design activism is ‘a position in co-design engagements that strives to continuously maintain experimentation” (67). Like minor activism, design microprotests are linked to the continuous mobilisation of actors and networks in processes of collective experimentation. However microprotests do not necessarily focus on organisational change. Rather, they create new (and often tiny) spaces of protest within which new voices can be heard and different kinds of listening can be done.In the first of our three cases, we discuss a representation of transdisciplinary listening. This piece of visual communication is a design microprotest in itself. This section helps to frame what we mean by a safe space by paying attention to the listening mode of communication. In the next sections we explore temporality and territorialisation through the design microprotests Just Spaces which documents the collective imagining of safe places for LBPQ (Lesbian, Bisexual, Pansexual, and Queer) women and non-binary identities through a series of graphic objects and Conversation Piece, a book written, designed and published over three days as a proposition for a collective future. A Representation of Transdisciplinary ListeningThe design artefact we present in this section is a representation of listening and can be understood as a microprotest emerging from a collective experiment that materialises firstly as a visual document asking questions of the visual communication discipline and its role in a research collaboration and also as a mirror for the interdisciplinary team to reflexively develop transdisciplinary perspectives on the risks associated with the release of environmental flows in the upper reaches of Hawkesbury Nepean River in NSW, Australia. This research project was funded through a Challenge Grant Scheme to encourage transdisciplinarity within the University. The project team worked with the Hawkesbury Nepean Catchment Management Authority in response to the question: What are the risks to maximising the benefits expected from increased environmental flows? Listening and visual communication design practice are inescapably linked. Renown American graphic designer and activist Sheila de Bretteville describes a consciousness and a commitment to listening as an openness, rather than antagonism and argument. Fiumara describes listening as nascent or an emerging skill and points to listening as the antithesis of the Western culture of saying and expression.For a visual communication designer there is a very specific listening that can be described as visual hearing. This practice materialises the act of hearing through a visualisation of the information or knowledge that is shared. This act of visual hearing is a performative process tracing the actors’ perspectives. This tracing is used as content, which is then translated into a transcultural representation constituted by the designerly act of perceiving multiple perspectives. The interpretation contributes to a shared project of transdisciplinary understanding.This transrepresentation (Fig. 1) is a manifestation of a small interaction among a research team comprised of a water engineer, sustainable governance researcher, water resource management researcher, environmental economist and a designer. This visualisation is a materialisation of a structured conversation in response to the question What are the risks to maximising the benefits expected from increased environmental flows? It represents a small contribution that provides an opportunity for reflexivity and documents a moment in time in response to a significant challenge. In this translation of a conversation as a visual representation, a design microprotest is made against reduction, simplification, antagonism and argument. This may seem intangible, but as a protest through design, “it involves the development of artifacts that exist in real time and space, it is situated within everyday contexts and processes of social and economic life” (Julier 226). This representation locates conversation in a visual order that responds to particular categorisations of the political, the institutional, the socio-economic and the physical in a transdisciplinary process that focusses on multiple perspectives.Figure 1: Transrepresentation of responses by an interdisciplinary research team to the question: What are the risks to maximising the benefits expected from increased environmental flows in the Upper Hawkesbury Nepean River? (2006) Just Spaces: Translating Safe SpacesListening is the foundation of design microprotest. Just Spaces emerged out of a collaborative listening project It’s OK! An Anthology of LBPQ (Lesbian, Bisexual, Pansexual and Queer) Women’s and Non-Binary Identities’ Stories and Advice. By visually communicating the way a community practices supportive listening (both in a physical form as a book and as an online resource), It’s OK! opens conversations about how LBPQ women and non-binary identities can imagine and help facilitate safe spaces. These conversations led to thinking about the effects of breaches of safe spaces on young LBPQ women and non-binary identities. In her book The Cultural Politics of Emotion, Sara Ahmed presents Queer Feelings as a new way of thinking about Queer bodies and the way they use and impress upon space. She makes an argument for creating and imagining new ways of creating and navigating public and private spaces. As a design microprotest, Just Spaces opens up Queer ways of navigating space through a process Ahmed describes as “the ‘non-fitting’ or discomfort .... an opening up which can be difficult and exciting” (Ahmed 154). Just Spaces is a series of workshops, translated into a graphic design object, and presented at an exhibition in the stairwell of the library at the University of Technology Sydney. It protests the requirement of navigating heteronormative environments by suggesting ‘Queer’ ways of being in and designing in space. The work offers solutions, suggestions, and new ways of doing and making by offering design methods as tools of microprotest to its participants. For instance, Just Spaces provides a framework for sensitive translation, through the introduction of a structure that helps build personas based on the game Dungeons and Dragons (a game popular among certain LGBTQIA+ communities in Sydney). Figure 2: Exhibition: Just Spaces, held at UTS Library from 5 to 27 April 2018. By focussing the design process on deep listening and rendering voices into visual translations, these workshops responded to Linda Tuhiwai Smith’s idea of the “outsider within”, articulating the way research should be navigated in vulnerable groups that have a history of being exploited as part of research. Through reciprocity and generosity, trust was generated in the design process which included a shared dinner; opening up participant-controlled safe spaces.To open up and explore ideas of discomfort and safety, two workshops were designed to provide safe and sensitive spaces for the group of seven LBPQ participants and collaborators. Design methods such as drawing, group imagining and futuring using a central prototype as a prompt drew out discussions of safe spaces. The prototype itself was a small folded house (representative of shelter) printed with a number of questions, such as:Our spaces are often unsafe. We take that as a given. But where do these breaches of safety take place? How was your safe space breached in those spaces?The workshops resulted in tangible objects, made by the participants, but these could not be made public because of privacy implications. So the next step was to use visual communication design to create sensitive and honest visual translations of the conversations. The translations trace images from the participants’ words, sketches and notes. For example, handwritten notes are transcribed and reproduced with a font chosen by the designer based on the tone of the comment and by considering how design can retain the essence of person as well as their anonymity. The translations focus on the micro: the micro breaches of safety; the interactions that take place between participants and their environment; and the everyday denigrating experiences that LBPQ women and non-binary identities go through on an ongoing basis. This translation process requires precise skills, sensitivity, care and deep knowledge of context. These skills operate at the smallest of scales through minute observation and detailed work. This micro-ness translates to the potential for truthfulness and care within the community, as it establishes a precedent through the translations for others to use and adapt for their own communities.The production of the work for exhibition also occurred on a micro level, using a Risograph, a screenprinting photocopier often found in schools, community groups and activist spaces. The machine (ME9350) used for this project is collectively owned by a co-op of Sydney creatives called Rizzeria. Each translation was printed only five times on butter paper. Butter paper is a sensitive surface but difficult to work with making the process slow and painstaking and with a lot of care.All aspects of this process and project are small: the pieced-together translations made by assembling segments of conversations; zines that can be kept in a pocket and read intimately; the group of participants; and the workshop and exhibition spaces. These small spaces of safety and their translations make possible conversations but also enable other safe spaces that move and intervene as design microprotests. Figure 3: Piecing the translations together. Figure 4: Pulling the translation off the drum; this was done every print making the process slow and requiring gentleness. This project was and is about slowing down, listening and visually translating in order to generate and imagine safe spaces. In this slowness, as Julier describes “...the activist is working in a more open-ended way that goes beyond the materialization of the design” (229). It creates methods for listening and collaboratively generating ways to navigate spaces that are fraught with micro conflict. As an act of territorialisation, it created tiny and important spaces as a design microprotest. Conversation Piece: A Fast and Slow BookConversation Piece is an experiment in collective self-publishing. It was made over three days by Frontyard, an activist space in Marrickville, NSW, involved in community “futuring”. Futuring for Frontyard is intended to empower people with tools to imagine and enact preferred futures, in contrast to what design theorist Tony Fry describes as “defuturing”, the systematic destruction of possible futures by design. Materialised as a book, Conversation Piece is also an act of collective futuring. It is a carefully designed process for producing dialogues between unlikely parties using an image archive as a starting point. Conversation Piece was designed with the book sprint format as a starting point. Founded by software designer Adam Hyde, book sprints are a method of collectively generating a book in just a few days then publishing it. Book sprints are related to the programming sprints common in agile software development or Scrum, which are often used to make FLOSS (Free and Open Source Software) manuals. Frontyard had used these techniques in a previous project to develop the Non Cash Arts Asset Platform.Conversation Piece was also modeled on two participatory books made during sprints that focussed on articulating alternative futures. Collaborative Futures was made during Transmediale in 2009, and Futurish: Thinking Out Loud about Futures (2015).The design for Conversation Piece began when Frontyard was invited to participate in the Hobiennale in 2017, a free festival emerging from the “national climate of uncertainty within the arts, influenced by changes to the structure of major arts organisations and diminishing funding opportunities.” The Hobiennale was the first Biennale held in Hobart, Tasmania, but rather than producing a standard large art survey, it focussed on artist-run spaces and initiatives, emergant practices, and marginalised voices in the arts. Frontyard is not an artist collective and does not work for commissions. Rather, the response to the invitation was based on how much energy there was in the group to contribute to Hobiennale. At Frontyard one of the ways collective and individual energy is accounted for is using spoon theory, a disability metaphor used to describe the planning that many people have to do to conserve and ration energy reserves in their daily lives (Miserandino). As outlined in the glossary of Conversation Piece, spoon theory is:A way of accounting for our emotional or physical energy and therefore our ability to participate in activities. Spoon theory can be used to collaborate with care and avoid guilt and burn out. Usually spoon theory is applied at an individual level, but it can also be used by organisations. For example, Hobiennale had enough spoons to participate in the Hobiennale so we decided to give it a go. (180)To make to book, Frontyard invited visitors to Hobiennale to participate in a series of open conversations that began with the photographic archive of the organisation over the two years of its existence. During a prototyping session, Frontyard designed nine diagrams that propositioned ways to begin conversations by combining images in different ways. Figure 5: Diagram 9. Conversation Piece: p.32-33One of the purposes of the diagrams, and the book itself, was to bring attention to the micro dynamics of conversation over time, and to create a safe space to explore the implications of these. While the production process and the book itself is micro (ten copies were printed and immediately given away), the decisions made in regards to licensing (a creative commons license is used), distribution (via the Internet Archive) and content generation (through participatory design processes) the project’s commitment to open design processes (Van Abel, Evers, Klaassen and Troxler) mean its impact is unpredictable. Counter-logical to the conventional copyright of books, open design borrows its definition - and at times its technologies and here its methods - from open source software design, to advocate the production of design objects based on fluid and shared circulation of design information. The tension between the abundance produced by an open approach to making, and the attention to the detail of relationships produced by slowing down and scaling down communication processes is made apparent in Conversation Piece:We challenge ourselves at Frontyard to keep bureaucratic processes as minimal an open as possible. We don’t have an application or acquittal process: we prefer to meet people over a cup of tea. A conversation is a way to work through questions. (7)As well as focussing on the micro dynamics of conversations, this projects protests the authority of archives. It works to dismantle the hierarchies of art and publishing through the design of an open, transparent, participatory publishing process. It offers a range of propositions about alternative economies, the agency of people working together at small scales, and the many possible futures in the collective imaginaries of people rethinking time, outcomes, results and progress.The contributors to the book are those in conversation – a complex networks of actors that are relationally configured and themselves in constant change, so as Julier explains “the object is subject to constant transformations, either literally or in its meaning. The designer is working within this instability.” (230) This is true of all design, but in this design microprotest, Frontyard works within this instability in order to redirect it. The book functions as a series of propositions about temporality and territorialisation, and focussing on micro interventions rather than radical political movements. In one section, two Frontyard residents offer a story of migration that also serves as a recipe for purslane soup, a traditional Portuguese dish (Rodriguez and Brison). Another lifts all the images of hand gestures from the Frontyard digital image archive and represents them in a photo essay. Figure 6: Talking to Rocks. Conversation Piece: p.143ConclusionThis article is an invitation to momentarily suspend the framing of design activism as a global movement in order to slow down the analysis of design protests and start paying attention to the brief moments and small spaces of protest that energise social change in design practice. We offered three examples of design microprotests, opening with a representation of transdisciplinary listening in order to frame design as a way if interpreting and listening as well as generating and producing. The two following projects we describe are collective acts of translation: small, momentary conversations designed into graphic forms that can be shared, reproduced, analysed, and remixed. Such protests have their limitations. Beyond the artefacts, the outcomes generated by design microprotests are difficult to identify. While they push and pull at the temporality and territorialisation of design, they operate at a small scale. How design microprotests connect to global networks of protest is an important question yet to be explored. The design practices of transdisciplinary listening, Queer Feelings and translations, and collaborative book sprinting, identified in these design microprotests change the thoughts and feelings of those who participate in ways that are impossible to measure in real time, and sometimes cannot be measured at all. Yet these practices are important now, as they shift the way designers design, and the way others understand what is designed. By identifying the common attributes of design microprotests, we can begin to understand the way necessary political conversations emerge in design practice, for instance about safe spaces, transdisciplinarity, and archives. Taking a research through design approach these can be understood over time, rather than just in the moment, and in specific territories that belong to community. They can be reconfigured into different conversations that change our world for the better. References Ahmed, Sara. “Queer Feelings.” The Cultural Politics of Emotion. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 2004. 143-167.Clarke, Alison J. "'Actions Speak Louder': Victor Papanek and the Legacy of Design Activism." Design and Culture 5.2 (2013): 151-168.De Bretteville, Sheila L. Design beyond Design: Critical Reflection and the Practice of Visual Communication. Ed. Jan van Toorn. Maastricht: Jan van Eyck Akademie Editions, 1998. 115-127.Evers, L., et al. Open Design Now: Why Design Cannot Remain Exclusive. Amsterdam: BIS Publishers, 2011.Escobar, Arturo. Designs for the Pluriverse: Radical Interdependence, Autonomy, and the Making of Worlds. Duke UP, 2018.Fiumara, G.C. The Other Side of Language: A Philosophy of Listening. London: Routledge, 1995.Fuad-Luke, Alastair. Design Activism: Beautiful Strangeness for a Sustainable World. London: Routledge, 2013.Frontyard Projects. 2018. Conversation Piece. Marrickville: Frontyard Projects. Fry, Tony. A New Design Philosophy: An Introduction to Defuturing. Sydney: UNSW P, 1999.Hanna, Julian, Alkan Chipperfield, Peter von Stackelberg, Trevor Haldenby, Nik Gaffney, Maja Kuzmanovic, Tim Boykett, Tina Auer, Marta Peirano, and Istvan Szakats. Futurish: Thinking Out Loud about Futures. Linz: Times Up, 2014. Irwin, Terry, Gideon Kossoff, and Cameron Tonkinwise. "Transition Design Provocation." Design Philosophy Papers 13.1 (2015): 3-11.Julier, Guy. "From Design Culture to Design Activism." Design and Culture 5.2 (2013): 215-236.Julier, Guy. "Introduction: Material Preference and Design Activism." Design and Culture 5.2 (2013): 145-150.Jonas, W. “Exploring the Swampy Ground.” Mapping Design Research. Eds. S. Grand and W. Jonas. Basel: Birkhauser, 2012. 11-41.Kagan, S. Art and Sustainability. Bielefeld: Transcript, 2011.Lenskjold, Tau Ulv, Sissel Olander, and Joachim Halse. “Minor Design Activism: Prompting Change from Within.” Design Issues 31.4 (2015): 67–78. doi:10.1162/DESI_a_00352.Max-Neef, M.A. "Foundations of Transdisciplinarity." Ecological Economics 53.53 (2005): 5-16.Miserandino, C. "The Spoon Theory." <http://www.butyoudontlooksick.com>.Nicolescu, B. "Methodology of Transdisciplinarity – Levels of Reality, Logic of the Included Middle and Complexity." Transdisciplinary Journal of Engineering and Science 1.1 (2010): 19-38.Palmer, C., J. Gothe, C. Mitchell, K. Sweetapple, S. McLaughlin, G. Hose, M. Lowe, H. Goodall, T. Green, D. Sharma, S. Fane, K. Brew, and P. Jones. “Finding Integration Pathways: Developing a Transdisciplinary (TD) Approach for the Upper Nepean Catchment.” Proceedings of the 5th Australian Stream Management Conference: Australian Rivers: Making a Difference. Thurgoona, NSW: Charles Sturt University, 2008.Rodriguez and Brison. "Purslane Soup." Conversation Piece. Eds. Frontyard Projects. Marrickville: Frontyard Projects, 2018. 34-41.Schultz, Tristan, et al. "What Is at Stake with Decolonizing Design? A Roundtable." Design and Culture 10.1 (2018): 81-101.Smith, Linda Tuhiwai. Decolonising Methodologies: Research and Indigenous Peoples. New York: ZED Books, 1998. Van Abel, Bas, et al. Open Design Now: Why Design Cannot Remain Exclusive. Bis Publishers, 2014.Wing Sue, Derald. Microaggressions in Everyday Life: Race, Gender, and Sexual Orientation. London: John Wiley & Sons, 2010. XV-XX.

IntroductionI work at a regional campus of La Trobe University, Australia. More precisely, I work at the Bendigo campus of La Trobe University. At Bendigo, we are often annoyed when referred to and addressed as ‘regional’ students and staff. Really, we should not be. After all, Bendigo campus is an outpost of La Trobe’s metropolitan base. It is funded, run, and directed from Bundoora (Melbourne). The word ‘regional’ simply describes the situation. A region is an “administrative division of a city or a district [… or …] a country” (Brown 2528). And the Latin etymology of region (regio, regere) includes “direction, line”, and “rule” (Kidd 208, 589). Just as the Bendigo campus of La Trobe is a satellite of the metropolitan campus, the town of Bendigo is an outpost of Melbourne. So, when we are addressed and interpellated (Althusser 48) as regional, it is a reminder of the ongoing fact that Australia is (still) a colony, an outpost of empire, a country organised on the colonial model. From central administrative hubs, spokes of communication, and transportation spread to the outposts. When Bendigo students and staff are addressed as regional, in a way we are also being addressed as colonial.In this article, the terms ‘region’ and ‘regional’ are deployed as inextricably associated with the Australian version of colonialism. In Australia, in the central metropolitan hubs, where the colonial project is at its most comprehensive, it is hard to see what remains, to see what has escaped that project. The aim of this article is to explore how different aspects of the country escape the totalising project of Australian colonialism. This exploration is undertaken primarily through a discussion of the ways in which some places on this continent remain not regional (and thus, not colonial) how they keep the metropolis at bay, and how they, thus, keep Europe at bay. This discussion includes a general overview of the Australian colonial project, particularly as it pertains to First Nations Peoples, their knowledge and philosophies, and the continent’s unique ecologies. Then the article becomes more speculative, imagining different ways of seeing and experiencing time and place in this country, ways of seeing the remains and refuges of pre-1788, not-regional, and not-colonial Australia. In these remains and refuges, there persist the flourishing and radical difference of this continent’s ecologies and, not surprisingly, the radical suitedness of tens of thousands of years of First Nations Peoples’ culture and thinking to that ecology, as Country. In what remains not regional, I argue, are answers to the question: How will we live here in the Anthropocene?A Totalising ProjectSince 1788, in the face of the ongoing presence and resistance of First Nations cultures, and the continent’s radically unique ecologies, the Australian colonial project has been to convert the continent into a region of Europe. As such, the imposed political, administrative, scientific, and economic institutions are largely European. This is also so, to a lesser extent, of social and cultural institutions. While the continent is not Europe geologically, the notion of the Anthropocene suggests that this is changing (Crutzen and Stoermer). This article does not resummarise the vast body of scholarship on the effects of colonisation, from genocide to missionary charity, to the creation of bureaucratic and comprador classes, and so on. Suffice to say that the different valences of colonisation—from outright malevolence to misguided benevolence–produce similar and common effects. As such, what we experience in metropolitan and regional Australia, is chillingly similar to what people experience in London. Chilling, because this experience demonstrates how the effects of the project tend towards the total.To clarify, when I use the name ‘Australia’ I understand it as the continent’s European name. When I use the term ‘Europe’ or ‘European’, I refer to both the European continent and to the reach and scope of the various colonial and imperial projects of European nations. I take this approach because I think it is necessary to recognise their global effects and loads. In Australia, this load has been evident and present for more than two centuries. On one hand, it is evident in the social, cultural, and political institutions that come with colonisation. On another, it is evident in the environmental impacts of colonisation: impacts that are severely compounded in Australia. In relation to this, there is vital, ongoing scholarship that explores the fact that, ecologically, Australia is a radically different place, and which discusses the ways in which European scientific, aesthetic, and agricultural assumptions, and the associated naturalised and generic understandings of ‘nature’, have grounded activities that have radically transformed the continent’s biosphere. To name but a few, Tim Flannery (Eaters, “Ecosystems”) and Stephen Pyne, respectively, examine the radical difference of this continent’s ecology, geology, climate, and fire regimes. Sylvia Hallam, Bill Gammage, and Bruce Pascoe (“Bolt”, Emu) explore the relationships of First Nations Peoples with that ecology, climate, and fire before 1788, and the European blindness to the complexity of these relationships. For instance, William Lines quotes the strikingly contradictory observations of the colonial surveyor, Thomas Mitchell, where the land is simultaneously “populous” and “without inhabitants” and “ready for the immediate reception of civilised man” and European pastoralism (Mitchell qtd. in Lines 71). Flannery (Eaters) and Tim Low (Feral, New) discuss the impacts of introduced agricultural practices, exotic animals, and plants. Tom Griffiths tells the story of ‘Improving’ and ‘Acclimatisation Societies’, whose explicit aims were to convert Australian lands into European lands (32–48). The notion of ‘keeping Europe at bay’ is a response to the colonial assumptions, practices, and impositions highlighted by these writers.The project of converting this continent and hundreds of First Nations Countries into a region of Europe, ‘Australia’, is, in ambition, a totalising one. From the strange flag-plantings, invocations and incantations claiming ownership and dominion, to legalistic conceptions such as terra nullius, the aim has been to speak, to declare, to interpellate the country as European. What is not European, must be made European. What cannot be made European is either (un)seen in a way which diminishes or denies its existence, or must be made not to exist. These are difficult things to do: to not see, to unsee, or to eradicate.One of the first acts of administrative division (direction and rule) in the Port Phillip colony (now known as Victoria) was that of designating four regional Aboriginal Protectorates. Edward Stone Parker was appointed Assistant Protector of Aborigines for the Loddon District, a district which persists today for many state and local government instrumentalities as the Loddon-Mallee region. In the 1840s, Parker experienced the difficulty described above, in attempting to ‘make European’ the Dja Dja Wurrung people. As part of Parker’s goal of Christianising Dja Dja Wurrung people, he sought to learn their language. Bain Attwood records his frustration:[Parker] remarked in July 1842. ‘For physical objects and their attributes, the language readily supplies equivalent terms, but for the metaphysical, so far I have been able to discover scarcely any’. A few years later Parker simply despaired that this work of translation could be undertaken. ‘What can be done’, he complained, ‘with a people whose language knows no such terms as holiness, justice, righteousness, sin, guilt, repentance, redemption, pardon, peace, and c., and to whose minds the ideas conveyed by those words are utterly foreign and inexplicable?’ (Attwood 125)The assumption here is that values and concepts that are ‘untranslatable’ into European understandings mark an absence of such value and concept. Such assumptions are evident in attempts to convince, cajole, or coerce First Nations Peoples into abandoning traditional cultural and custodial relationships with Country in favour of individual private property ownership. The desire to maintain relationships with Country are described by conservative political figures such as Tony Abbott as “lifestyle choices” (Medhora), effectively declaring them non-existent. In addition, processes designed to recognise First Nations relationships to Country are procedurally frustrated. Examples of this are the bizarre decisions made in 2018 and 2019 by Nigel Scullion, the then Indigenous Affairs Minister, to fund objections to land claims from funds designated to alleviate Indigenous disadvantage and to refuse to grant land rights claims even when procedural obstacles have been cleared (Allam). In Australia, given that First Nations social, cultural, and political life is seamlessly interwoven with the environment, ecology, the land–Country, and that the colonial project has always been, and still is, a totalising one, it is a project which aims to sever the connections to place of First Nations Peoples. Concomitantly, when the connections cannot be severed, the people must be either converted, dismissed, or erased.This project, no matter how brutal and relentless, however, has not achieved totality.What Remains Not Regional? If colonisation is a totalising project, and regional Australia stands as evidence of this project’s ongoing push, then what remains not regional, or untouched by the colonial? What escapes the administrative, the institutional, the ecological, the incantatory, and the interpellative reach of the regional? I think that despite this reach, there are such remains. The frustration, the anger, and antipathy of Parker, Abbott, and Scullion bear this out. Their project is unfinished and the resistance to it infuriates. I think that, in Australia, the different ways in which pre-1788 modes of life persist are modes of life which can be said to be ‘keeping Europe at bay’.In Reports from a Wild Country: Ethics for Decolonisation, Deborah Bird Rose compares Western/European conceptualisations of time, with those of the people living in the communities around the Victoria River in the Northern Territory. Rose describes Western constructions of time as characterised by disjunction (for example, the ‘birth’ of philosophy, the beginnings of Christianity) and by irreversible sequence (for example, concepts of telos, apocalypse, and progress). These constructions have become so naturalised as to carry a “seemingly commonsensical orientation toward the future” (15). Orientation, in an Australian society “built on destruction, enables regimes of violence to continue their work while claiming the moral ground of making a better future” (15). Such an orientation “enables us to turn our backs on the current social facts of pain, damage, destruction and despair which exist in the present, but which we will only acknowledge as our past” (17).In contrast to this ‘future vision’, Rose describes what she calls the ‘canonical’ time-space conceptualisation of the Victoria River people (55). Here, rather than a temporal extension into an empty future, orientation is towards living, peopled, and grounded origins, with the emphasis on the plural, rather than a single point of origin or disjunction:We here now, meaning we here in a shared present, are distinct from the people of the early days by the fact that they preceded us and made our lives possible. We are the ‘behind mob’—those who come after. The future is the domain of those who come after us. They are referred to as […] those ‘behind us’. (55)By way of illustration, when we walk into a sheep paddock, even if we are going somewhere (even the future), we are also irrevocably walking behind ancestors, predecessor ecologies, previous effects. The paddock, is how it is, after about 65,000 years of occupation, custodianship, and management, after European surveyors, squatters, frontier conflict and violence, the radical transformation of the country, the destruction of the systems that came before. Everything there, as Freya Mathews would put it, is of “the given” (“Becoming” 254, “Old” 127). We are coming up behind. That paddock is the past and present, and what happens next is irrevocably shaped by it. We cannot walk away from it.What remains not regional is there in front of us. Country, language, and knowledge remain in the sheep paddock, coexisting with everyone and everything else that everyone in this country follows (including the colonial and the regional). It is not gone. We have to learn how to see it.By the Fox or the Little EagleFigure 1: A Scatter of Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo Feathers at Wehla. Image Credit: Terry Eyssens.As a way of elaborating on this, I will tell you about a small, eight hectare, patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country. Depending on the day, or the season, or your reason, it could take fifteen minutes to walk from one end to the other or it might take four hours, from the time you start walking, to the time when you get back to where you started. At this place, I found a scatter of White Cockatoo feathers (Sulphur-Crested Cockatoo—Cacatua galerita). There was no body, just the feathers, but it was clear that the Cockatoo had died, had been caught by something, for food. The scatter was beautiful. The feathers, their sulphur highlights, were lying on yellow-brown, creamy, dry grass. I dwelled on the scatter. I looked. I looked around. I walked around. I scanned the horizon and squinted at the sky. And I wondered, what happened.This small patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country is in an area now known as Wehla. In the Dja Dja Wurrung and many other Victorian languages, ‘Wehla’ (and variants of this word) is a name for the Brushtail Possum (Trichosurus vulpecula). In the time I spend there/here, I see all kinds of animals. Of these, two are particularly involved in this story. One is the Fox (Vulpes vulpes), which I usually see just the back of, going away. They are never surprised. They know, or seem to know, where everyone is. They have a trot, a purposeful, cocky trot, whether they are going away because of me or whether they are going somewhere for their own good reasons. Another animal I see often is the Little Eagle (Hieraaetus morphnoides). It is a half to two-thirds the size of a Wedge-tailed Eagle (Aquila audax). It soars impressively. Sometimes I mistake a Little Eagle for a Wedge-tail, until I get a better look and realise that it is not quite that big. I am not sure where the Little Eagle’s nest is but it must be close by.I wondered about this scatter of White Cockatoo feathers. I wondered, was the scatter of White Cockatoo feathers by the Fox or by the Little Eagle? This could be just a cute thought experiment. But I think the question matters because it provokes thinking about what is regional and what remains not regional. The Fox is absolutely imperial. It is introduced and widespread. Low describes it as among Australia’s “greatest agent[s] of extinction” (124). It is part of the colonisation of this place, down to this small patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country. Where the Fox is, colonisation, and everything that goes with it, remains, and maintains. So, that scatter of feathers could be a colonial, regional happening. Or maybe it is something that remains not regional, not colonial. Maybe the scatter is something that escapes the regional. The Little Eagles and the Cockatoos, who were here before colonisation, and their dance (a dance of death for the Cockatoo, a dance of life for the Little Eagle), is maybe something that remains not regional.But, so what if the scatter of White Cockatoo feathers, this few square metres of wind-blown matter, is not regional? Well, if it is ‘not regional’, then, if Australia is to become something other than a colony, we have to look for these things that are not regional, that are not colonial, that are not imperial. Maybe if we start with a scatter of White Cockatoo feathers that was by the Little Eagle, and then build outwards again, we might start to notice more things that are not regional, that still somehow escape. For example, the persistence of First Nations modes of land custodianship and First Nations understandings of time. Then, taking care not to fetishise First Nations philosophies and cultures, take the time and care to recognise the associations of all of those things with simply, the places themselves, like a patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country, which is now known as Wehla. Instead of understanding that place as something that is just part of the former Aboriginal Protectorate of Loddon or of the Loddon Mallee region of Victoria, it is Wehla.The beginning of decolonisation is deregionalisation. Every time we recognise the not regional (which is hopefully, eventually, articulated in a more positive sense than ‘not regional’), and just say something like ‘Wehla’, we can start to keep Europe at bay. Europe’s done enough.seeing and SeeingChina Miéville’s The City and The City (2009) is set in a place, in which the citizens of two cities live. The cities, Besźel and Ul Qoma, occupy the same space, are culturally and politically different. Their relationship to each other is similar to that of border-sharing Cold War states. Citizens of the two cities are forbidden to interact with each other. This prohibition is radically policed. Even though the citizens of Besźel and Ul Qoma live in adjoining buildings, share roads, and walk the same streets, they are forbidden to see each other. The populations of each city grow up learning how to see what is permitted and to not see, or unsee, the forbidden other (14).I think that seeing a scatter of White Cockatoo feathers and wondering if it was by the Fox or by the Little Eagle is akin to the different practices of seeing and not seeing in Besźel and Ul Qoma. The scatter of feathers is regional and colonial and, equally, it is not. Two countries occupy the same space. Australia and a continent with its hundreds of Countries. What remains not regional is what is given and Seen as such. Understanding ourselves as walking behind everything that has gone before us enables this. As such, it is possible to see the scatter of White Cockatoo feathers as by the Fox, as happening in ‘regional Australia’, as thus characterised by around 200 years of carnage, where the success of one species comes at the expense of countless others. On the other hand, it is possible to See the feathers as by the Little Eagles, and as happening on a small patch of land in Dja Dja Wurrung Country, as a dance that has been happening for hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of years. It is a way of keeping Europe at bay.I think these Cockatoo feathers are a form of address. They are capable of interpellating something other than the regional, the colonial, and the imperial. A story of feathers, Foxes, and Little Eagles can remind us of our ‘behindness’, and evoke, and invoke, and exemplify ways of seeing and engaging with where we live that are tens of thousands of years old. This is both an act of the imagination and a practice of Seeing what is really there. 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