The smoke was choking and it was a horrible experience. It’s like smoking cigarettes – but much worse – when you’re caught up in a bushfire like that.
Canberra, ACT
My name is Mingku. My Anglo name is Shane Mortimer. I’m a Ngambri Elder – the Ngambri are the people that Canberra’s name is derived from. In my work I espouse changes to ecology and our ecological approach when it comes to climate change and rising sea levels.
During the last bushfires I was living on a lovely property in the middle of acres of bushland. I was within a kilometer of the fire going past the property I was living on. The smoke was choking and it was a horrible experience. It’s like smoking cigarettes – but much worse – when you’re caught up in a bushfire like that. It’s one of the reasons I came into Canberra. It was too close a call and I don’t want to be exposed to that again. It was too much so it was time to come back into town.
After the fires there was a major impact on the mental health of a lot of people. I have a double degree in applied psychology and so I deal with a lot of people in that regard. The fire and the close proximity for many people caused a lot of problems.
But it’s not the first time Canberra has had smoky fires close by. We lost many houses here just a few years ago. I know a couple who lost their business out on Mount Stromlo and they also lost their home. They were so shocked by the experience that they moved to Japan. The trauma from that sort of experience is incredible.
The terraforming of the landscape on a very broad scale has been a catastrophic change here. There is now less than one percent of unaltered native grassland in this country. Farming has been a huge part of that. Monocultures like cotton and wheat are part of the issue. Grazing is a big problem too.
When you look at Canberra, the bush capital, there were never trees here. It was a big grassland plain. Some of the hills were sparsely treed but it was very well managed. The customary methods of management of using fire as a mechanism to farm have been completely overlooked. The properties of our grasses have been completely overlooked because people want wheat or rice.
We have to start to look at better ways of primary industry and more ecological methods of farming. Our native grasses need to be restored. This is an immediate action we could take to start regenerating and storing carbon. It’s not that difficult to do. Regenerating the perennial grasses that have provenance in their environment will also create more employment than Australia has unemployed. We have a really good opportunity to set an example for the rest of the world.
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I am surrounding by an ocean of drowning trees. They are not drowning in water, they are thirsty for it. Brown as scabs and waving like flags throughout the forest, on roadsides, and in backyards, Endlessly and silently gesturing to all of us. You can see them out of the corner of your eye, Niggling at the edge of our thoughts, As we relentlessly drive on without changing lanes, slowing down or coming to a stop. If we did that, we would have to turn and look. Like properly look, Noticing something for the first time that has been there all along. The forest that is, which has existed and perfected its survivorship over thousands of generations. We call it the Jarrah forest, and it is found nowhere else in the world. It has loved and nurtured the people of the south west of WA, Without question and without asking anything in return. It has given breath to our lungs, pure water for drinking and sacred footpaths to tread. It could have lasted forever if we had chosen to tread carefully, And looked after it like we would our own kin. The least we could have done is look after it. The sheer number of dying trees is new, and that’s what’s waving to us, As they are drowning in the hot, dry air; New saplings that have germinated after a brutal ‘controlled’ burn, Right before the rain stopped in spring last year. It’s barely rained since, And the tender young plants cannot reach water in time to survive through summer. We are nearly two thirds of the way through autumn, And still it feels like summer. We will get rain soon, And we will enjoy the lush, earthy smells and green tones, That will please our eyes and calm our minds. The new brown scabs will remain, Reminding us of the groundwater that we can’t see, That has been depleting every year. It will remain out of reach for the old, old trees, Not just the young saplings; The grandmothers of the landscape are dying. First you see the grey-green crown start to fade, And then turn yellow, And then brown, like weak tea. Without the elders and the saplings, What is left? And what will come next? Not air for our lungs. Or water for our bodies. Or shaded footpaths. The forest will no longer be safe. Just one word, and you will know; Fire. Everyone who thinks that we don’t need the forest to survive, Will realise too late. Or perhaps they don’t think at all. Or perhaps they know, and they choose to ignore. Or perhaps they think that we have dominion over the forest, And it is there to take from what we want, And the consequences are too far in the future to worry about now. Except they are not. Those poor, drowning trees. Not drowning in water, thirsty for it. Not waving, but drowning in the hot, dry air.
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