Arrived Sydney 22 hours after leaving JFK (losing a day en route--the blog calendar says Tuesday but when I arrived it was already Wednesday). Then took puddle jumper to Canberra for symposium on labor migrations in the Asia Pacific at the Australian National University, which starts tomorrow.
The first thing one notices here is that this part of Australia (NSW & Victoria) looks an awful lot like northern California. The climate and landscape are similar. There are eucalyptus trees everywhere and they are in fact native to Australia. The eucalyptus was imported to California in the 19th century as a possible source of lumber.
Since the goal for today was to stay awake I took a walk to the National Museum of Australia, very close to ANU campus. It's a strange post-modern building that snakes around. I was in search of a volume of Chinese miners' licenses, which belongs to the Victoria Police Museum. When I contacted the VPM last week they told me it was on loan at the National Museum. And so here it is. It wasn't a book of licenses after all, but "protection" tickets, which Chinese on the goldfields had to purchase in the segregated camps ("protectorates") that the colonial government established for them.
The museum also had several displays of Aboriginal life, artifacts, arts, etc. The Apology (as it's referred to, with capital A) is prominent here. Statements are everywhere. ANU's "deep regret" for the dispossession of native peoples is posted at the reception desk at the guest house where I'm staying. Apology is all very well and good, as is the promotion of Aboriginal artists. But there were no reparations, and one doesn't see Aboriginal people in positions of authority in government, business, the professions, etc.
The above painting is by Eunice Yunurupa Porter (acrylic on canvas, 2012). She writes: "This painting is about how our families traveled around during the mission times school holidays. The men from Emabella showed our fathers how to train camels.We would then use them to travel really long distances... When we were walking my father would let me sit on the camel when I got too tired." Who knew there were camels in Australia? (quick research reveals that they were imported in 19th century for transport work in opening frontier areas in Northern Territory and Western Australia. And there is apparently now a problem of feral camels in the outback...)
"The Black Bastards are Coming," by Gordon Sayron (2006), asks us to imagine a reversal of roles: the British watching an invading fleet in 1788.
