Month: August 2017

“This was the most unkindest cut of all.” (Julius Caesar, Act 3, Scene 2)[1]

Beautiful weed

Around my favourite walk to the top of Red Hill and back, I used to have two favourite trees.

One is an elm growing not far from home, reached when the walk is nearly completed. I think of it as ‘Pella’s tree’ and touch it reverently each time I pass. It’s a three-minute walk from the house and was the sanctuary to which Pella retreated when she had fallen out with a parent or sibling and needed some individual sulk time.

It was not until very recently that anyone else knew of the tree and its salving purpose. Pella reports that, notwithstanding the frequency with which she may have sought its low-slung branches and its safe cleavages, no-one ever noticed that she had absented herself from the house. So after a modest amount of time being ignored, uncalled for and unmissed, she would find her way back home and resume normal activities.

The other special tree was first of the two, both in the extent of its favouritism and in the chronology of its being reached. (Only once did I go round the route of the walk in the reverse direction, with the whole world seeming to be topsy-turvy as a result.)

It became a favourite in August 2016. I had retired in June and took to walking the route that month, sometimes in near-dark and always in the cold. Spring and warmer weather seemed miles away. Suddenly, some time in early August, that particular tree provided a burst of bright yellow wattle popped into view and provided much-needed confidence that the winter would end.

This otherwise modest tree was the first to blossom; it therefore was invested with a particular dignity and significance. It was soon followed by cohorts of others that became lit up with the proud, bright yellow confirmation that better days had arrived.

The normal cycle ensued. With the inexorable march of time the yellow battalions were browned off, seed pods took the place of blossom and the eye adjusted for the new bright colours of Autumn.

But every time I arrived at and passed that tree, I remarked its special status. It had been the first on the whole hillside to burst into flower.

On a cold, wet day just last week I found a break in the weather and went outside and around.

That special tree had been chopped down.

The cut was close to the ground: a neat, pale, sloping cut made with some force and expertise. The whole of the tree’s body, which had stood a little taller than me, lay close at hand, the blossoms prematurely browning and wasted.

Its crime? It was Acacia baileyana.

Hanging on the fence near where I leave the bush track is a small notice:

Why do Red Hill regenerators cut wattle trees?

There are two main species of wattle growing on Red Hill – Cootamundra wattle (Acacia baileyana) and silver wattle (Acacia dealbata).

Acacia baileyana is a small tree from 3 to 10 metres high. It is one of those species which retain the fern-like, bipinnate foliage throughout their lives (in most other species, the bipinnate foliage is replaced by flattened stems called phyllodes). The pinnae (the divisions of the pinnate leaves) are up to 30 mm long and silvery-grey in colour. The plant has smooth, greyish brown bark. The bright yellow flower clusters are globular in shape and are produced in the leaf axils in late winter to spring. 

Regenerators only cut Cootamundra wattle as it is not local to this region and is a Class 4 pest in the ACT.

Why is Cootamundra wattle a pest?

Fast-growing

Seed has a high survival rate (soil stored seed remains viable for many decades and germinates prolifically after fire)

Excludes light and forms a dense layer of leaf and pod remains on the soil surface. This eliminates many indigenous species, but allows many exotic grasses to flourish

Hybridises with a number of other Acacia species, including silver wattle and black wattle

So remember: beauty can be in the eye of the ecologist.

Notes:

Acacia baileyana is a small tree from 3 to 10 metres high. It is one of those species which retain the fern-like, bipinnate foliage throughout their lives (in most other species, the bipinnate foliage is replaced by flattened stems called phyllodes). The pinnae (the divisions of the pinnate leaves) are up to 30 mm long and silvery-grey in colour. The plant has smooth, greyish brown bark. The bright yellow flower clusters are globular in shape and are produced in the leaf axils in late winter to spring. (Australian Native Plants Society)

Acacia dealbata is a large shrub or medium-sized tree to about 30 metres high. It is one of those species which retain the fern-like, bipinnate foliage throughout their lives. The pinnae are up to 55 mm long and usually bluish-grey in colour. The plant has smooth, greyish green to dark grey bark which becomes fissured with age. The pale to bright yellow flower clusters are globular in shape and are produced terminally or in the leaf axils in late winter to mid-spring. (Australian Native Plants Society)

[1] I am not confident that, without the signpost, the source will be recognised.

‘Reasonable expectations’ of human services in remote communities

To illustrate how ‘reasonable’ they are, rural and remote health advocates are fond of agreeing that one cannot expect a dialysis unit or chemotherapy facility on the corner of the street in every small country town.

With technical advances in miniaturisation, point-of-care testing, IT and artificial intelligence, such a presumption may in fact one day be false.

But the general point is taken: that high cost service facilities paid for by the public purse must be shared across large numbers of users in order to make the unit cost acceptable.  The extreme case of having specialised services everywhere is unreasonable.

At the other end of the spectrum is the apparent truth that all people should have equivalent access to basic public services such as education, health and telecommunications.  These services should be available as a right.  But at what cost and how close to home?

So where is the line drawn between the two extremes?

The question has been given some exposure in Western Australia this week.  In a Hearing at Fitzroy Crossing of the Kimberley Aboriginal youth suicide inquest, the WA Government Solicitor, Caroline Thatcher, questioned senior community leader Emily Carter about whether those in remote communities should expect the same level of services as those in more built-up areas. [http://ab.co/2hqkrIC]

“As citizens of this country they should be able to get the same services as people who live in the city or in Broome,” Ms Carter responded.

When Ms Thatcher asked if that was reasonable for those who chose to live remotely, where there were very few economic opportunities, Ms Carter is reported as saying: “You’re trying to take me down a path here that is not mine. It’s not just about jobs, it’s about spiritual wellbeing, and about living on country”.

This report will remind some of us of WA Premier Colin Barnett’s proposal in late 2014 to close between 100 and 150 of the 274 remote communities in WA, saying the State Government could no longer continue to service them. [http://ab.co/2hq69aC]

"The possible closure comes amid Federal Government funding cuts for remote Indigenous communities.  The Commonwealth was the major funder of around two thirds of the state's Indigenous settlements - with the state funding the rest -but that responsibility is being transitioned to the states over the next two years.  When it was announced in September 2014, the state described the Federal Government's move as "reprehensible"."

The Department of Aboriginal Affairs was quoted in that story as saying that, of the 12,113 Aboriginal people currently living in 274 communities in WA, 1,309 Aboriginal people were in 174 of the smallest.  Across 115 of those communities, there were 507 people in total.

Emily Carter and her colleague June Oscar spoke about the work they have led to combat what they describe as “the cycle of trauma”, including by reducing the incidence of Foetal Alcohol Spectrum Disorder, at the NRHA/Children’s Healthcare Australasia Caring for Kids Conference in Alice Springs (April 2016). [You can stream their presentation here: http://bit.ly/2w8h9wT]

One of the key words in the reported question from the Government Solicitor is “chose”.  Do people who find themselves in a small remote community choose to live there, or do they choose not to leave the place in which they have always lived?

These are real and important questions.  What is the relationship between freedom of choice with respect to location and the responsibility of the state?  What is a reasonable expectation about access to services deemed to be part of human rights?  In a finite world, what are the global responsibilities of the citizens and governments of an affluent nation?

An article by Susan Thomas, John Wakerman and John Humphreys, based on research funded through PHCRIS, grappled with some of these issues.  Their study set out to help policy makers and health planners with the issue of the core primary health care services to which all Australians should have access – and their necessary support functions.

The 39 experts from whom they sought a view agreed on a basket of services that consumers in rural and remote communities could expect to access.  They are ‘care of the sick and injured’, ‘mental health’, ‘maternal/child health’, ‘allied health’, ‘sexual/reproductive health’, ‘rehabilitation’, ‘oral/dental health’ and ‘public health/illness prevention’.

So far, so good.  The next challenge is to fashion the means for delivering these services that are affordable, guarantee safety and cultural sensitivity, and are practicable given their need for professional expertise.

Roll on those technical advances!