Empire Times 46.3 by FUSA Association

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ISSUE 3 // VOLUME 46

Y E AR S EDITORS

CONTRIBUTORS

JOIN THE TEAM

Alicia Wood James Watson Kienan McKay

Ash Goodman Cass Heaton Eloise Quinn-Valentine Georgina Banfield Hayley Ford James Watson Jawahir Baraki Lewis Smith Liz Waldron Madeline Hand Maxwell Rudd Megan Ashley Michelle Wakim Rebekah Manser Shania Harrison Shevaun Rutherford Solomon Laing

Empire Times is always looking for contributors. If youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re a writer, photographer or illustrator, send us an email or visit our website for details.

Angelina Taylor Courtney Lawrence Elena Koulianos Evie Cazzolato Georgina Banfield Hannah Stampke Michelle Wakim Peter Moreman Shevaun Rutherford VISUAL ARTISTS Alexander Smith // Night City (Inner Cover) Amy Nguyen // Untitled (6) Anthony Wyndham // Untitled (42, 43) Katara Wolfe // Untitled (1, 3, 4, 5) Kienan McKay // Sketches (17, 35, 38, 39), Skyline (48, 49) Lawson Dodd // House Hunt (28, 29) Nguyen Pham // Home is People, Not a Place (30, 31) Rosanna Lam // Untitled (24) Sheydin Dew // Destruction (32) PHOTOGRAPHY Maxwell Rudd // (16, 17)

COVER ART Kienan McKay MASTHEAD & LOGO

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EMPIRE TIMES is a publication of Flinders University Student Association (FUSA). The opinons expressed herein are not necessarily those of the editors, Flinders University or FUSA. Reasonable care is taken to ensure that EMPIRE TIMES articles and other information are up-todate and as accurate as possible, as of the time of publication, but no responsibility can be taken by EMPIRE TIMES for any errors or omissions contained herein.

Ethan Brown PRINTERS Newstyle Media SPECIAL THANKS Jess Nicole Nathan Cheetham Tim Coyle

EMPIRE TIMES would like to acknowledge the Kaurna people wo are the traditonal custodians of the land Flinders University is situated on, and that their land was never ceded, but stolen. We would like to pay our respects to the elders of the Kaurna nation and extend that respect to other Aboriginal peoples, past, present, and future.

~ unafraid of evolution

SUB-EDITORS

CONTENTS CONTENTS 42

NO FRIEND BUT THE MOUNTAINS

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The refugee fighting for his freedom with a novel

GOLDEN KEY

How to join, and what they can do for you

LIVING ON CAMPUS

The unique on-campus experience

SPORTS

Building a home for the AFLW

HOMELESS

Empty houses, but no homes

DONT CHANGE THE DATE

We have more important things to change

GIRL IN THE DARK

The challenges of a woman walking alone

MY AUSTRALIA Are we proud of our Australian identity?

UNAFFORDABLE HOMES The grim reality for millennials

UNDER THE SURFACE

How we’re destroying our reefs

MOVING OUT Tips for making the transition smoother

NOT NEAR, NOT FAR

Where to go when there’s nowhere to call home?

PAINT THE GOD DAMN BUILDINGS Should we freshen up our great city?

THE JOURNEY A short story on the tough journey home

GREYHOUNDS Adopt your next best friend

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o, what is home? A feeling? A place? A person? It’s a hard thing to answer in any definite terms.

The idea of “home” is contentious in today’s society. The number of homeless people continues to grow, refugees are refused asylum and mistreated by our government, indigenous Australians are still fighting for recognition. Is this what we think of when we decide to call our country home?

The environmental impact humans are having on our planet –our ecological home – is damaging. Global warming is a growing concern, species are being wiped out, deforestation continues… the list goes on. On a planetary level, we are destroying our home.

For university students, the question “What is home?” is a difficult. Often we hear the phrase ‘I live at home’ to mean that someone lives with their parents, suggesting that to live otherwise is not really to be at home. Many students during their time at university will move out into their own places, maybe with a partner, or in a sharehouse, or in a residential college. These are all new and scary experiences, and finding your feet isn’t always going to be easy. Flinders can be a home, and is a home, for many people. You are accepted here regardless of faith, gender, nationality, or sexuality. You are safe here. Each semester is full of challenges and difficulties, (even trying to find the right building for a class can be a struggle, trust us we’ve all been there) but ultimately this place is here to support you, and to help you grow. We chose this theme because “home” means something different to everyone, and between we three editors we’ve had endless discussions about our respective and collective homes. Ultimately, the central question of this issue is “what does home , mean to you?” In other issues we’ll look back to the past and towards the future but “home” celebrates , the here and now; Flinders in the Editors present. Empire Times, 2019

Kienan s Alicia Jame

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EDITORIAL EDITORIAL

PRESIDENT AD D R ESS H

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Hello friends! We’re well into the academic year now and we’re all feeling a lot of things. Homesick can be a big one, whether it’s because you moved to come to university or spent so much time studying that you don’t remember what your housemates look like.

watching Bold and the Beautiful, and my brother only just woke up at 6pm.

To be honest, writing for this issue was really hard for me. What makes it home? What takes me home? Trying to distil this took me to lots of different places, and it’s hard to describe with words what that looks like. I’m going to give it a red hot go.

Home is, unsurprisingly, Flinders Uni. I’ve spent my entire adult life here, nearly a third of all the years I’ve been alive. The time that I spent figuring out who I am and what I care about happened in the Humanities building and Social Sciences courtyards, in the Sociology department and within the walls of FUSA. It’s the lifelong friends that I met in my first year, whose lives have gone in different directions but are still who know me best.

Home is a nap inside a blanket burrito, rain outside, City and Colour in the background. It’s the smell of fabric softener, lying diagonally across a queen size bed.

I know not everybody feels as sentimental about this place as I do, and that’s okay. Being here doesn’t need to be home for it to feel like home for a little while.

Home is where my mum is making pastries and our dog is barking outside. It’s too much food on the table at family dinner, and eating leftovers for the rest of the week. My grandma is complaining about something, my grandpa is

Stay fab,

HOME IS a nap Inside a blanket burrito, rain outside...

Katt Hatzi Student Council President

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H E R E â&#x20AC;&#x2122; S A T H I N G S T O

~ this is hopeless: I’ll keep going

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all his achievements can’t buy his freedom

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words by SHEVAUN RUTHERFORD

artwork by AMY NGUYEN

Many of his colleagues were arrested and imprisoned. The journalist published the news of the arrests, an act that brought attention to his colleagues and saved them from being tortured or killed by the authorities in secret. Fearing he would be next, he went into hiding for three months, before fleeing Iran, and making his way to Indonesia. There he boarded a smuggler’s boat headed to Australia, a country where he thought he could speak about his oppression freely and help his people. That boat was sunk by the Australian Navy. Its passengers were brought to Christmas Island, where they waited for enough asylum seekers to be captured to fill a plane to Manus. From within the high barbed wire fences he reached out to the world, gathering information about the abuse rife within the camp and reporting the acts to news outlets and human rights groups. He wrote letters to prime ministers and immigration ministers, emphasising Australia’s defilement of the UN Convention Relating to the Status of Refugees to grant asylum to those like him, persecuted in their nation. He highlighted the surveillance, harassment, and medical neglect those imprisoned on Manus were subjected to.

Boochani’s magnum opus followed, the novel “No Friend but the Mountains” in 2018, an epic of Boochani’s detained life, laboriously smuggled out of Manus through hundreds of messages sent to Australia first through Facebook, then WhatsApp. The result is an autobiography that, with its almost surreal visual imagery, mixes reality and fantasy to create a horrifically visceral reading experience. And yet, like “Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time”, it is achieved through quiet observation and snippets of heart-wrenching poetry. You can almost see Boochani, holding that phone like a bird with a broken wing, keeping it safe and hidden at all costs. Every sentence tapped out is precious, every idea a risk. Boochani does not waste characters justifying why he left Iran. You feel the sincerity of his desperation, and his hope, as he faces the mountainous waves of a raging sea. Those hopes are destroyed by the detention centre. He is fenced in with other refugees, packed under the hot Manus sun. His name is stripped away and replaced with a number. Water and electricity are sporadically cut to the facility. Every necessity – toilets, razors, food, water, painkillers, malaria medication – is only available at the end of hour-long queues. There is nothing to do but wait in these queues, sleep well into the day, and repeat the same conversations with fellow detainees, about what they were fleeing before they came here and where they think their

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Before Boochani was plucked from a boat bobbing across the open ocean and detained indefinitely, he lived in Iran where he graduated with a master’s degree in political science, political geography and geopolitics. He wrote widely as a freelance journalist, and in secret taught Kurdish, his native tongue. The Kurdish people are an ethnic minority in Iran, whose culture is suppressed by the Iranian government. When Boochani co-founded a magazine in the Kurdish language centring around Kurdish culture and politics, his offices were raided.

Noticing the public’s indifference to journalism with its simple language and straightforward reporting, Boochani attempted a different tactic to get through to Australians. In 2017, over a period of six months, he filmed life on Manus with his phone, having to keep it hidden from authorities at all times. The end result was “Chauka, Please Tell Us the Time”, named for the bird only found in Manus, the island’s emblem, and the name of the solitary confinement block Boochani was twice locked in. It’s a poetic documentary depicting everyday life on Manus, a glimpse of its horrors juxtaposed with the natural beauty of the island. The film was shown in several film festivals, is highly praised, and won a couple of minor accolades. This wasn’t enough for Boochani.

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n the early hours of the morning, after the guards have performed their raid, a man reaches for the phone stashed away in his mattress and taps out a message to the outside world. Depending on the day he might send poetry to his translator, or a fragment of a story to his friends, or an article to the Sydney Morning Herald or other publications, all sent in the block of a single text message. His name is Behrouz Boochani, and he has been imprisoned on Manus Island since 2013.

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CONTENT WARNING: self-harm

Within Manus, Boochani became the unofficial leader of his compound, negotiating with Papua New Guinea and Australian officials and human rights organisations. He was jailed during a mass two-week hunger strike in 2015 that ended with guards beating and arresting detainees. Boochani was released on the premise that he would stop leaking information, but he persisted.

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A Journalist’s Battle with Manus Island – From the Inside

children and wives might be. Around Boochani people starve themselves, cut themselves in the shared toilets, sew their own lips together. To cope with this loss of individuality and agency, Boochani renames everything around him, reflecting the colonial power enacted onto him, and Manus itself, by stripping it away through more observational titles. The Manus Island Regional Offshore Processing Centre becomes Manus Prison. The Foxtrot Compound becomes Fox Prison. He calls the detainees not by their assigned numbers but by monikers that emphasise their individual features and personalities. By rechristening the facility, conceptually, it becomes his. By renaming his fellow detainees, they become free.

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Yet despite this reclamation, Boochani creates these new names in the language of his oppressors. He writes in Farsi, in the language of the Iranian authorities that forced him to flee his home. Boochani fought hard for the novel to be translated into English, into the language of his jailers. His translator Omid Tofighian writes, ‘[Boochani’s] main objective is to draw attention to the realities of systematic torture in Manus Prison. The book functions to move readers to resist the colonial mindset that is driving Australia’s detention regime and to inspire self-reflection, deep investigation and direct action.’ For Australians, the novel is a heavy read, but a necessary one. It was made for us, at the risk of everything for Boochani. “No Friend but the Mountains” won the 2019 Victorian Prize for literature and the Nonfiction Victorian Premier’s Literary Award, awarding him $125,000 collectively. The prizes also mark him, in the eyes of the judges, as an Australian. Despite being the only author without an Australian citizenship or permanent residency, Boochani and his work has been hailed as holding the spirit of Australia. This year’s Adelaide Festival hosted “Manus”, a play by Nazanin Sahamizadeh, inspired by and made in collaboration with Boochani. It seems a natural evolution for his story. ‘The book [“No Friend but the Mountain”] is a playscript for a theatre performance,’ says Boochani, ’… In Iran we would express our critical analysis in theatrical ways; for us, performance is a part of philosophy and advocacy.’ “Manus” premiered it Iran, where it battled government criticism and censorship to educate the public

about Australia’s brutal offshore detention policies. In Australia it received no smaller amount of backlash. Its tone resembles that of Boochani’s prose, a kind of minimalism achieved through precise imagery. The stage is dark, lit by spotlight. The only props are the plain clothes of the detainees, red jerry cans that act as leaky boats and high fences, and pools of water that rain from above. Footage projected onto the stage of politicians, including Prime Minister Scott Morison, defending the existence of the detention centres contrast with the harrowing violent stories of five men and three women detained on both Manus and Nauru. The play, while only 75 minutes long, is like a punch to the gut. Boochani’s story isn’t over. In late 2017, after a slow selfdestruction of its facilities, Manus Prison was officially closed, and its occupants abandoned. They are left with ruined buildings, no electricity, purposefully broken toilets and only pre-packaged meals to eat. They are told to leave by disappearing guards, but they have decided together not to go. In their visits to the local town they have faced thievery and violence. They are easy targets and are unwanted by the locals. So, they stay inside the facility. They have spent years waiting for a safe place to live, and still they are in danger. After three weeks the guards returned. The detainees flee to rooves, to the corners of the camp, and link arms. Their belongings are ripped apart, their beds destroyed, the water tanks spilled empty. Boochani was badly beaten and jailed, before being returned with bruises on his neck and back and fistfuls of hair pulled from his head. They come back again in a week and forcibly remove the detainees to the smaller compound closer to the local town. It was built with half the capacity. The refugees remain there to this day, alone. Without travel documents, Boochani is stuck on the island. The situation is dire but Boochani’s story is one of perseverance. Despite the best efforts of the Australian government to supress the atrocities committed on Manus and Nauru, Boochani could not be broken. In this digital age, social media has acted as a vessel for the spread of censored information. Boochani tweets prolifically of his daily life, helping Australians understand the actions of their government. He reaches out, stretching his words as far as they will go. As those living under the government that has condemned him, we have a duty to reach back.

what belongs, who belongs

O P I N I O N

Overseas some people I spoke to compared Australia to apartheid South Africa, others suggested that our “immigration program” in places like Christmas or Manus Islands was actually comparable to Guantanamo Bay. Reflecting on it from afar I could see what they meant, and I was disgusted that for them to say I was Australian was equal to saying that I am racist and support racist policies. If there’s one thing I learned on my trip, it was to question things more. Question my government, question how my country is perceived, question my assumptions and accidental biases.

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MY AUST-

In England, my cousin handed me a digeridoo he’d bought online a few years ago. He expected me to play it. When I explained that I didn’t know how to play it he didn’t understand. ‘But it’s Aussie culture innit?’ he asked. ‘Yeah, but it’s not my Aussie culture,’ I replied. A few weeks later, I went to the Louvre with a girl I met in Paris. As we walked around, taking in all the ancient artefacts and beautiful renaissance art she asked, ‘Does Australia have art pieces like this?’

He said to me ‘Let’s play spot the Australian, mate’. Every time one of spotted someone white, we’d get a point. As a child I didn’t really question this, but thinking about it now as a young adult overseas, I felt disgusted at myself. By ‘Australian’, the person I was with really meant ‘White Person’.

L I F E S T Y L E

This is how I felt overseas, when I really noticed a racist Australia.

‘Not my aussie culture’

We went to a market, the sort of ones with temporary stalls and fresh food. A majority of people there were Asian, leaving myself and the older family member I was with as two of the only white people there.

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’ve found that going overseas helps one gain a sense of clarity regarding their home. When you describe ‘Home’ to someone that’s never been before, all the things you don’t normally think about are highlighted. For example, when describing my house to someone, I suddenly consider what colour the roof is, or how long the corridors are. Things I haven’t noticed before are now in the forefront of my mind and memory.

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I started thinking about these events, about ‘Australian’ instruments and how we choose to record settlement on the land. I remembered a game someone once played with me as a kid:

‘LET’s PLAY SPOT the austrlaian’

People overseas asked me about Australian culture, about distinctly Australian things to do, and the more I thought about it the more I struggled to answer these questions. Some Australians can play a digeridoo, some Australians eat halal, some Australians love a few tinnies on the weekend… we’re all different. I don’t think I really have any clear answer on what the “Australian thing to do” is, apart from saying that maybe to accept is to be Australian. words by JAMES WATSON

age of my country?

‘No’ I said, ‘we’re such a young country compared to France.’ I pointed at a painting from the 14th century, ‘That piece was made before my country was even discovered.’ Afterwards I realised that wasn’t true, people lived in Australia long before the 14th century.

get to know your

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e and l o r your s i t a ? h o 1.) W do you doired you t and what hat insp with FUSA 2.) Wnvolved il? s for get i nt Counc your goal Stude hat are rite u o v a 3.) Wyear? ur f this What is yo 4.) ble? quota Jawahir Baraki WOMEN’S OFFICER

Sarah Howson INDIGENOUS OFFICER

1.) Hi guys! My name is Jawahir Baraki and I’m the Women’s Officer on Student Council. My role on Student Council is to be a student representative and advocate of all female students, and plan some fun events along the way.

1.) Heya all! My name is Sarah, I’m the Indigenous Officer for FUSA this year. I’m also a final year medical student, hoping to be a neurosurgeon.

2.) I was inspired to join Student Council by the 2018 Indigenous Students Officer, who showed me that there are no limits to what black women can achieve in life.

2.) I feel like Flinders has a beautiful atmosphere and vibe. I felt like I could not only have a great time running some FUSA events for an excellent crowd, but also gain some skills in management, planning, and event logistics. I’m really passionate about improving myself and helping others!

3.) My goals within FUSA this year are to hold more events that empower women, to promote a safe university environment free from harassment, and to support my fellow office bearers to the best of my ability. Outside FUSA, my goal for the year is just to be happy.

3.) This year I would love to create culturally rich events that are all-inclusive and stimulate all students to get up and engaged with Indigenous culture! Outside of FUSA, I’d like to publish more research and travel.

4.) ‘Be the change you want to see in the world’

4.) ‘Shine boldly so that all may find you when the night falls.’

Grace Hensel ENVIROMENT OFFICER

LIKE the FUSA Student Council FACEBOOK PAGE TO KEEP UP TO DATE WITH WHAT WE DO!!!

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4.) ‘I wasn’t sure if people would get the ‘8’ thing, but they did. It goes to show that when you take a big creative risk, it can really pay off.’ – Avril Lavigne on her song Sk8er Boi

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4.) ‘People thought perhaps there was a coup going on but it was just the jellyfish.’ - Julie Berwald

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3.) My goals for this year as Queer Officer were to increase and improve Pride Fest (which we did in March), grow The Queer Society with fortnightly social events, and expand the outreach of our community. I want to also challenge the university on its lack of opportunities within the university for those between and outside the “gender binary”.

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3. ) My goals are to get the university to divest from fossil fuels, and to increase sustainability at Flinders generally and of vendors on our campuses. This will include things like better waste and packing practices among other things. I will work collaboratively with students to find out what they want to see happening in the enviro space at Flinders! (If you’re interested in this please get in touch with me). I also want to try and get a bee colony on campus to help with the declining bee population – we would be nowhere without them #savethebees.

2.) I was president of The Queer Society in 2017 and saw the potential in what opportunities and change can be created in this role. I saw the opportunity for what this community with collaboration with the great team at the Queer Society - could achieve. What inspires me to continue is the massive impact the queer community on campus has achieved locally and nationally.

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2.) I was inspired to get involved with FUSA because I am passionate about advocacy and student well-being. Advocacy is incredibly important and is a big part of my studies as a law student, so getting involved with FUSA was a great way for me to put this to use in a practical way, that also makes a meaningful difference in students’ lives. FUSA does so much cool stuff for students and I wanted to be a part of that!

1.) Hi my name is Sean Henschke. I am the Queer Oficer and I represent, advocate for and support people of diverse sexes and sexualities.

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1.) I’m the FUSA Environment Officer and my role is to help to make sure FUSA is doing its bit for the environment! I will be running lots of stalls, events, and educational campaigns throughout the year that have an environmental focus, and engage with students who are interested in climate action.

Sean Henschke QUEER OFFICER

HU M ANS FL IN DE RS

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What does home mean to you? If you’d asked what my idea of home was four years ago, I would have said, ‘beside my grandmothers’. If my life were a sandcastle, they were the solidified, watered sand on which I built my castle towers and turrets. They passed away within twelve months of each other, and it was like a wave had crashed and obliterated my sandy world. I felt entirely lost. I had no foundations left; just an empty, salted swash. It took some time and healing, but now my idea of home is this bodily vessel I am humbled to live life through. I used to hate my body, but I’ve learnt past that. I’ve learnt to appreciate everything it can do – what a wonderfully remarkable body! I’m so grateful to my grandmothers, my mother, for giving me life. I’ve lived overseas twice now, and I always take my loved ones with me. They are a part of me, part of my body, so they go wherever I go.

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What are you studying and why? I’m currently finishing a master’s degree in Specialized Translation, after concluding a bachelor in Intercultural communication. Choosing my university career was not an easy task. The problem was that I liked too many things. I liked photography, literature, writing, languages, and so many others that I can’t list. I couldn’t think of giving up any of those, so I wanted to find a job that allowed me to make a living in an enjoyable way while at the same time leaving me enough time to cultivate all my other interests. I found that being a translator did that for me. It combined my love for writing and languages and, if you do it as a freelance, it gives you freedom to pursue what you love. Also, when you are a translator, you never stop learning - and not only in a technical sense. In order to translate something, you need to understand it. So, you are constantly learning a bit of engineering, some biology here and there and pretty much everything you can think of.

If you’ve travelled, what did you love about it? Why was it worth leaving the comforts of home? I love traveling and do travel around New Years. I’ve been to Japan, Samoa, Malaysia, Cambodia, India, Indonesia, Hong Kong, and hopefully many more to come. I enjoy visiting new places and meeting new people when I travel and all the new food I get to enjoy makes it worth leaving the comfort of home. I was in Japan early this year and the food and coffee there was amazing, they brew a mean filter/drip coffee and Yakitori is a must-have. I would also love to travel across Europe and Venice.

KEY TO SUCCESS words by SOLOMON LAING

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olden Key is the world’s largest collegiate honour society. Membership into the Society is by invitation only and applies to the top 15% of college and university sophomores, juniors and seniors, as well as top-performing graduate students in all fields of study, based solely on their academic achievements. Each year, these students are sent invitation letters to join Golden Key. Many do join, and many don’t. But this is less about the International Society, and more about our chapter here at Flinders.

One of the major problems faced by Golden Key at Flinders is that people don’t know enough about it. Many people receive the invitation letter and wonder, ‘What is this?’ There is also some controversy and confusion around Golden Key regarding what we can do for our members. So, I’m here to give you a better idea of what Golden Key, and more specifically the Chapter at Flinders, has on offer for those who are interested and what exactly we hope to accomplish. We are a dedicated group of people who strive to create and maintain a community for high achieving students, who aim to create and facilitate opportunities for our members. Golden Key offers many, but we also create our own within our club by running both academic and community-based events throughout the year. For example, our volunteering drive with Little Big Book Club, which involved packing books for unprivileged children, or our networking events we hold throughout the year. Golden Key also offers many scholarships to those of its members who apply. Govinda, one of our members, went to both Chicago and Johannesburg on Golden Key scholarships. One thing that resounds in our committee is that each person who becomes a part of the Flinders Chapter gets out of it what they put in. Some people may find that this doesn’t suit them, however, our organisation works on this philosophy. Golden Key provides a framework for its members to build a community within, along with finances and events to boot. Although Golden Key may not be a home as such, it does provide a strong community. I asked some of the members of the Flinders Chapter Committee about their experience. Anna is the president of our chapter, and says: ‘Golden Key has, in a way, given me an additional sense of belonging. The most important skill I have gained is confidence, and to add to that I have a wonderful network of friends at university!’

Our secretary has also said that ‘Golden Key has given me a sense of purpose and direction. I have developed an “I can do that!” attitude. Also, being involved helps expand your leadership skills and networks. We are all really just trying our best, in everything.’ Another member stated, ‘Being involved with GK and the Flinders chapter as given me access to many opportunities I would otherwise not have come across and has tremendously helped me in building my network.’

On a personal note, the most important thing I’ve gained from Golden Key was the confidence to stand up and take opportunities, even those that sit far outside my comfort zone. The club and the Alliance are a wonderful group of enthusiastic and driven individuals who are always happy to help, and are a valuable addition to my network of peers and friends. Through the Flinders Chapter, and the SA Alliance, I have met many new and interesting people and been exposed to more opportunities than I have had time to take up. I have made friends and had great experiences I almost certainly wouldn’t have had otherwise. To anyone who has joined Golden Key, or been offered it, I would say take up the offer and join our club. We like meeting new people and we even have our Annul General Meeting coming up, which all GK members are welcome to attend and we, as well as event information, can always be found on our Facebook page. Also, for those who want more information on Golden Key in general, their website is a fantastic resource.

words by GEORGINA BANFIELD

When I lived in student accommodation, I was exposed to a diverse range of people I would never have met if I didn’t live on campus. For someone who has never lived outside of home before, living on campus provided me with a safety net of student coordinators and tutors who assisted in the transition. I was surrounded by people who were all discovering who they were, whether that be academically, emotionally, or by finding out how many shots they could down at the Tav. The transition was difficult at times. I despised my old

I’ve been challenged over the past three years; been a part of a winning debating team; got drunk after a particular rowdy trip on a beer bike; been a part of an events group in my second year, which supported the Hall in creating a safe atmosphere through op shop crawls; a musical theatre dinner; led the anxiety-inducing game of “assassins”; and sat through many nights of subpar cooking (especially when the chef decided to become creative and put fish and peas on pizza). I left the Hall this year for the Village, under the pretence that I needed to learn how to cook. While different in terms of there being more privacy and independence, I still have that support system and friends that are only a stone’s throw away. From living in student accommodation, I proved to myself that I could move on with my life and become independent. It’s a move I had to make, and I’ve managed to learn how much I can handle. Looking back on it, certain situations I’ve been in now would have rendered me an anxious wreck five years ago. Living on campus has been the step in between properly moving out and staying at home. It’s been a great place to sort out who I am as a person but without the loneliness of being alone in a new city.

S T O R Y

I’d eat in the hall within the rigid dining hours, where students ate at the same time most geriatric patients did. Rows of tables sat in the hall where we’d sit and eat, all clumped into little groups We’d be yelling at each other to pass serviettes, especially during exams where there was a noise lockdown and we were all eager to talk when the lockdown was suspended for an hour.

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I lived in room 4308, at the top of two flights of stairs (always enjoyable to climb after a night out or leg day at the gym). It was a small room, which I promptly overfilled with books, photographs, and general mess.

It is there that I have gained lifelong friends, learnt to cook, how to budget, and found a new place to call home, at least for the time being.

C A M P U S

After doing my research, saving all the money I could from my job, and convincing myself I was making the right decision, I decided on Flinders University, after visiting Open Day and the opportunity to take part in a BAHA program. I packed my bags to move into Flinders University Hall, where I spent the next two years.

home, but homesickness was still an unwelcome visitor which came at unexpected times; usually in the middle of the night or when I thought of my dog. At least I knew I was in a place where everyone else was going through the same thing. A place where you could always find someone to whinge about an essay to or a shoulder to cry on.

O N

rom the age of 13, I knew I didn’t want to stay in Sydney. While perceived as a cultural hub, I found it stifling; the demand to commit to a STEM career despite being in high school was constricting. It’s a well-known fact that Sydney universities hate the arts. Studying at the two that still had an Arts program meant that I’d either be spending another three years with the people I’d been so desperate to get away from, or attending a B grade university.

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LIVING ON CAMPUS

words by MAXWELL RUDD

LOST CAMPUSES T

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S T O R Y

hroughout my three-year nursing degree with Flinders University, I found a passion for remote health care and was given multiple opportunities to complete my clinical placements in a remote setting. The university sent out an expression of interest email where I decided to apply for the remote placement to experience something new at an interstate campus. It may come as a surprise to some students, but Flinders does have campuses elsewhere! I first travelled to Alice Springs in the second year of my degree where I was lucky to complete a placement in the Alice Springs Hospital Intensive Care Ward. It was a truly eye-opening experience where I was able to immerse myself in a completely new environment with a group of other students from around Australia. When I arrived at Alice Springs I didnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t know much about the place, nor the local culture. On my first day I completed a Cultural Orientation through the Centre for Remote Health where we learnt about the Indigenous culture which spans throughout Central Australia. It was a massive culture shock but really opened my eyes to how these beautiful people live and preserve their culture.

There is a Flinders Library based on hospital grounds accessible to students, which provided great resources to complete assignments and any other study required whilst on placement. The Centre for Remote Health also provides many resources to allow for a smooth placement outside of Adelaide. I enjoyed my first placement so much that I decided to apply again, and was fortunate enough to have the opportunity to complete my third and final year placement back in Alice Springs, with both the Royal Flying Doctors Service and the Central Australian Aboriginal Congress. It was like being back home when I returned, as Alice Springs has a real sense of community where everyone is friendly and inclusive. Throughout my second experience I spent eight weeks there, where I flew around to the surrounding communities and provided primary health care. I was able to interact with a broad range of professionals ranging from pilots, doctors, nurses, midwives, physiotherapists, and more. These professionals all interacted together as a team and being a student, I felt included in this team delivering much needed health care to these remote communities. The placements were

It may come as a surprise to some students, but Flinders HAS MANY campuses INTERSTATE

broadening horizans

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seeking opportunity

and remote environment. It was the most enjoyable aspect of my degree through Flinders and really topped off my degree.

T Y P E )

One of my favourite aspects of living remote and studying in Alice Springs was the social aspect. I made many new lifelong friends who came from around Australia, where we were able to go camping and on adventures to the beautiful outback waterholes, hike parts of the MacDonnell Ranges, and see old indigenous rock paintings all within an hour from Alice Springs. There are also a few great places to grab food and have a drink to wind down after a week full of new experiences. Another student and I from Flinders also played footy with one of the local teams where we attended multiple trainings, which was another great way to meet people and make new friends. The weather is always warm which was great, I was able to go to the hospital pool with friends most days which really made the placement feel like a holiday.

My most memorable moment studying in Central Australia was my opportunity with the Royal Flying Doctors Service. I was able to visit around 20 different indigenous communities within South Australia and the Northern Territory where I met the local people, saw Uluru and Kata Tjuta from the air, and saw various types of outback wildlife. All whilst completing university work, it doesnâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;t get much better than that. One of the most beneficial aspects of completing my placements in the Norther Territory was the job prospect after; I was able to network and build strong relationships to further my future career as a nurse. Overall, I enjoyed living away from home for a few months and studying in such a raw

( O R

// extended family

H O M E

both hands on, where I was able to participate in a range of clinical procedures not regularly seen within Adelaide hospitals, enhancing my clinical skill set as a student.

S P ORTS

words by MICHELLE WAKIM

hen laying the foundations for a home – physically, socially, or symbolically – there’s one vital requirement: safety. When we encounter change, we build our metaphorical homes on empty blocks of land in suburbs lined with residents who have well-established homes. It can be hard work finding your fit, breaking into a space and establishing a sense of safety. Sticking with our metaphor, I wish to look at a particularly large suburb undergoing some dramatic changes: the Australian Football League’s (AFL) neighbourhood. This area has history and some older homes filled with character that could possibly do with some renovations. The women’s AFL (AFLW) have recently acquired some land in this thriving community.

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R E P O R T

A few weeks back, the foundations of the AFLW homes were damaged. This occurred when a spectacular picture of AFLW player Tayla Harris was posted by Channel 7. Harris’ body was in the iconic AFL stance, identical to many photographs of male footballers taken in the past. Harris’ picture generated endless praise but also substantial trolling. Most of the damage was done when the photo was taken down by Channel 7 in response to the derogatory, threatening, and sexist comments. This response plays into the same ideals that urge women to not be out late at night and avoid revealing too much skin. By the same token, if a woman attempts to establish themselves into what is deemed a man’s space, they must be cautious because abuse is expected. As always, the female subject was dealt with to defuse the issue. Misogynistic men maintained their home and comfort while crushing down the early foundations of equality between male and female athletes. In outrage, hundreds of people replicated Harris’ photograph to protest the practices taken by Channel 7. People flooded to secure the foundations of the AFLW home. Every night that week Fox Footy featured panels of experts who unpacked Harris’ story. It became acknowledged that although this photograph captured a single moment, this moment had sparked the beginnings of a movement. When Harris’ picture was printed as

a silhouette, it became a symbol of strength to show the progress made so far and the work still yet to be done. Hashtags were used, T-shirts were printed, and conversations were started. There we had it. Unity. It was wonderful. It was a week before I felt the rug of momentum carrying us towards equality pulled out from under me. It happened when I sat down to watch Friday night football, and I realised that Wayne Carey was commentating. Since retirement, Carey has been charged with multiple accounts of domestic violence – in one instant he even glassed his partner. So, where do we draw the line? Incidences of racism result in life-time bans from the AFL and accounts of sexism lead to ground-breaking movements, but when it comes to private matters of abuse, if you are in with the right people it seems that there are always avenues back in and your past is conveniently forgotten. Carey was welcomed back into the AFL community with open arms and inducted into the AFL Hall of Fame. That same Friday night, I was watching the game with a close male friend of mine. It was a poor-quality match, and in outrage my friend cried ‘What am I watching here? Is this the AFLW or something?’ Boom! Crash! Back down to earth! Back down to our place as the lesser version of our national game. Of course, not everything was fixed in Harris’ triumph, but this was a blunt reminder of that. It’s easy for established communities to forget how difficult it is building a home from nothing. It is a privilege to lay down the foundations for the female football world, but it’s a challenging time for all female footballers. It can feel daunting just knowing that some individuals on our street are sitting in the comfort of their homes, watching us work tirelessly only to make comments about how appealing we look in our shorts and singlets. Our ability to build a home is rooted in language and discourses. These are our tools of construction and as a society we decide how to use them. With disempowering words comes cracks in the walls and with objectification comes leaks in the roof. The women of football are still exposed, and they are entitled to the safety of a home

words by HAYLEY FORD

Yet the answer isn’t so simple. The owners of these empty houses are not likely to give up space on their unused property for someone, even when that someone has nothing. Which, at its surface, is understandable: no one wants a stranger living on their property for free, potentially breaking things, or there when the owner wants to move to this property or sell it. And the banks don’t want to offer up foreclosed properties because they can’t make money from it. But at what point do we ask ourselves, is having a spotless holiday home more valuable to us than helping a person in need? Can a financial investment – a patch of land – be worth more than a life? It would seem so. Those who are homeless sleep on the streets a few feet away from an empty house. Many die from illnesses contracted from being out in the cold and from untreated wounds, though the number of deaths and the exact reasons for them amongst the homeless are difficult to track. There is no lack of human need, nor a lack of houses: what the growing poor of Australia lack is money. Rent is high and rent assistance is low, and public housing is gutted. We have a serious problem when banks, the upper class with summer homes, and property developers who are holding onto their money-making rent don’t consider a house as something to live in but as something to sell, invest in, or mortgage.

THERE IS NO LACK OF HUMAN NEED, NOR A LACK OF HOUSES

O P I N I O N

THERE ARE 116,000 homeless people in AUSTRALIA

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According to the Australian Bureau of Statistics, there are 116,000 homeless people in Australia. They number far less then the empty houses, but still the number is worryingly high. Surely, the answer must seem simple enough: house them in one of the empty homes!

Homelessness is a tough issue to tackle because it’s seen as a costly and complex problem; the homeless don’t just need a roof over their head but utilities, food, and work to help them become more independent. But as long as houses are money-makers and the homeless are not, nothing will change. As long as society views homelessness as shameful, as long as we skirt around them – not sure whether to toss them some spare change, or whether they’ll just spend it on drugs or alcohol, or perhaps it’s their own fault that they’re homeless, or oops; look at that, you’ve completely passed their huddled form on the street corner and it’s too late to turn around now – nothing will change. We can be hesitant to give freely, especially to strangers. But it’s time we changed this culture. It’s easy to dodge a problem or claim that you’re too busy or too powerless to do anything to change it, but we all know that that is a lie we tell ourselves to lessen our guilt. We already have volunteers and organisations aimed at helping the homeless – such as the Don Dunstan Foundation, and the Hutt Street Homeless Centre – but homelessness isn’t an issue that can be solved by a few people. We need a radical change in our culture itself so that our first instinct is to offer our help to people in need, and not to simply turn away from the problem. You don’t need to toss spare change at someone sitting on the street corner, but if you want to offer real change, then appeal to government to invest in the potential these lives have – not lesser than any of ours, just stuck in a rut – and get them back on their feet. Support charities and organisations not just with money, but also volunteer your time. Stop feeling guilty every time you pass someone that’s sleeping rough: do something to help fix the problem, so that they don’t have to be there in the first place.

C O M M U N I T Y

n Australia, over one million homes lie empty. Investment properties of the wealthy, foreclosed homes held hostage by banks, or simply out of the price range of most people, each house is estranged from its purpose – none of these houses actually house anyone.

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HOMELESS

POLITICAL

CORRESPONDENCE

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THE SOCIALIST ALTERNATIVE 1) Both Liberal and Labor have participated in the racist and disgusting lock up of refugees in detention, and in the bipartisan project of policing Australia’s borders, never allowing refugees to reach Australia by boat and instead trapping them in increasingly worse conditions such that many people are driven to attempting suicide. Socialists stand for open borders - people have the right to live in Australia regardless of where they come from or how they get here. All refugees on Manus and Nauru must be brought to Australia immediately. No racist fearmongering about whether they are all terrorists and animals. No hand-wringing about infrastructure; blame for full hospital beds and crowded public transport lies solely with the neoliberal policies and insufficient funding of the Government, not refugees. No measures to push them all into the countryside where they can’t be seen or heard. Being in Australia shouldn’t be contingent on whether you were born here or if you have enough money in your pocket. 2) Over the years, the struggle by Indigenous Australians has won some civil and land rights. But these rights have been chipped away and eroded by racist governments, with Indigenous communities being treated as social

FLINDERS UNI LABOR CLUB experiments for authoritarian and right-wing measures like the welfare card. The fight for land rights continues, especially around indigenous land being used for mines or the nuclear waste dump. Deaths in custody continue and so does the unjust imprisonment of Indigenous people. We must stand against the racism of the government, especially surrounding the Northern Territory Intervention and struggle for not just the rights but the lives of indigenous people. 3) The simple fact is, housing prices have risen while wages and welfare have not. In fact, housing all round is harder to acquire, with neoliberal attacks on public services since the Hawke-Keating era reducing public housing and increasing electricity and water bills. Houses are simply going to become (or are) out of the price range for most people. This is why struggle is so important. Unaffordable housing is just one part of a growing inequality. The government won’t stop giving handouts to big business and letting banks off scott free unless ordinary people start to assert their rights and demand otherwise. Strikes to raise wages can win, like the recent strike at Chemist Warehouse. If companies lose money so that people can afford to live then I won’t shed a tear.

1) The Flinders University Labor Club believes that Asylum Seekers should be treated with dignity and respect. We do not support the offshore detention policies of the Coalition Government, and we do not support efforts to reduce the capacity of people to seek asylum in Australia. We believe that the United Nations Convention on refugees should be followed as these people are fleeing persecution in their own countries, they are not violating any Australian or international laws. We should treat them as people in need and not subject them to awful conditions in an attempt to stop them from seeking asylum. 2) There is still a lot to of work to be done towards reconciliation for our First Nations peoples. The Flinders University Labor Club understands that meaningful and substantive change is required to appropriately and respectfully recognise Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islanders as the first sovereign nations of Australia and remove the racial discrimination and vilification that these people face on a daily basis. We fully support the Uluru Statement from the Heart which calls for constitutional recognition, a First Nations’ Voice to Parliament, and genuine partnership with First Nations peoples. Labor Prime Minister Kevin Rudd’s apology to the Stolen Generation, and the Australian Labor

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Where do you stand on the treatment of refugees and asylum seekers by the current Federal government? What should be done? Indigenous rights have come a long way from where they used to be historically, but many argue that there is still a lot to be done. What key changes need to be made for Indigenous Australian’s and why? 2 1 / / H O M E

Right

3) University students and young people across the country are being permanently priced out of out of the housing market due to the woefully inadequate financial management of the Coalition Governments over the past twenty years. John Howard’s decision to halve the capital gains tax has allowed property developers to artificially inflate our housing prices, which, when combined with other unfair tax laws such as negative gearing, has crushed many Australian’s dream of being able to save for a house deposit. The Flinders University Labor Club understands the importance of greater investment in social housing, which provides more affordable housing options for young Australian’s, and by increasing supply has a more positive impact on housing prices across the country. We also believe that our unfair tax laws need to be changed as to not benefit only the top end of town. Receiving a greater tax advantage when buying your 14th house as opposed to your 1st isn’t in the slightest regard fair, or responsible economic management.

The Flinders University Liberal Club were invited to submit their answers but were unable to do so due to time constraints.

C A M P U S

Party’s Reconciliation Action Plan are important steps towards reconciliation, but more needs to be done to support our First Nations peoples. Australians have a fundamental belief in equality and non-discrimination, and supporting our First Nations peoples is crucial to this fundamental belief.

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FLINDERS UNIVERSITY LIBERAL CLUB

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With millennials getting pushed out of the housing market, especially in larger cities, many uni students will be unable to buy their own home anytime soon. What caused this? What can be done to change this situation?

DON’T CHANGE TH words by SHANIA HARRISON

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L I F E S T Y L E

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O P I N I O N

hanging the date of Australia Day would be like putting a band-aid on a cut that needs stitches.

I BELIEVE THAT THE PROBLEM RUNS MUCH DEEPER THAN A DATE

The 26th of January was the day that a lot of horrors began for Indigenous Australians, and as such, it is a day of grief for many. But there are many things that cause grief for Indigenous Australians. The death toll throughout this colonisation is unknown, and we as tribes don’t know how many we lost. We grieve for lives that were never lived and for the people, stories and traditions that we no longer have the privilege of knowing or learning about. The first recorded killings of Indigenous Australians occurred on September 1st. So that too is a day for grief. The University of Newcastle has recorded over 150 different massacres – all on separate dates. This includes 50 deaths at Barrow creek between the 22nd of February and 10th of April 1874, nine deaths at Avenue Range Station between the 1st and 30th of November 1848, 100 deaths at Goanna headland during 1843 and 42 deaths at Thundaperty waterhole in 1875… The list goes on and on. The stolen generation lasted for 60 years, and on each day of those 60 years Indigenous children were forcibly removed from their homes and made to live away from their loved ones, learn a new language, and leave their culture behind. The 26th is just one day, and in the grand scheme of things the worst really didn’t happen on the 26th. Changing the date of Australia Day would mean celebrating it on a day that’s another a day of grief, because they are all days of grief. I believe that the problem runs much deeper than a date. Each year the Australia Day debate makes evident the huge gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. Every year as Australia Day nears,

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“The gap” is something we hear often in advertising, government campaigns, and the media. But I don’t think many people actually understand the realities of this gap. The reality is that there are seven people in my immediate family who identify as Indigenous and statistics suggest that at least one of us seven will be incarcerated during our lifetime. Compare that to the one in fifty nonIndigenous Australians who will be incarcerated. We represent on average 3% of the Australian population, but 27% of the prison population. If I ever have children, they are twice as likely to die during childhood than non-Indigenous children. Statistics like this show just how big the gap is between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. I think that instead of fighting about a date that is simply a date, we should be focusing on changing these numbers.

O P I N I O N

For me the continuous debate and argument about Australia Day widens the gap instead of closing it and that is the real problem.

The Australia Day debate shows just how far we have to go to bridge the gap between Indigenous and non-Indigenous Australians. We spend a day that we should be celebrating together fighting about the past and further deepening the misunderstanding and hurt that runs within our society. So no, I don’t think we need to change the date: I think we need to bridge the gap.

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I am... a proud Indigenous Australian woman, and I don’t want to change the date of Australia Day. I would much rather focus on lessening the amount of Indigenous people that are incarcerated and increasing the likelihood of my future children surviving their childhood.

In recent years the Australia Day debate has become extremely public and political, and for me all it’s done is cause pain. On the one hand it’s heartwarming that there are people out there who believe Invasion Day deserves to be acknowledged and respected. But we must also hear the arguments from the other side and unfortunately, not everyone expresses their opinion in a respectful way. This means that Indigenous people are ridiculed, judged, and hated over the Australia Day debate. Because we’re ruining Australia Day and we need to get over the past. It’s hurtful and it’s unnecessary, and these same sentiments repeated year after year only act to create more friction among all Australians.

L I F E S T Y L E

the debate gains momentum, politicians share their opinions, and lobby groups argue for their side. For me, debating the date of Australia Day just brings more hurt.

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HE DATE...

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T Y P E ) girl in the dark: a recount

alone // not alone

IN THE DARK words by MEGAN ASHLEY

artwork by

ROSANNA LAM

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A bra meant I was going to watch all my male peers gradually overtake me, physically. I felt that it meant swapping comfortable clothes for tight-fitting outfits, and sneakers for heels, because this is what women in the media and in the magazines and at parties wore, that this is how the “in-crowd” looked. It meant I’d have to learn how to use makeup, how to do my hair properly, if I wanted to fit in. For me, the bra was a symbol of despair and discomfort, and I resented it. I’d hide behind the racks of Bras’N’Things, stash my bras in the bottom of my undies drawer, and refuse to talk about them with my mum. It was almost as though if I could ignore being a girl long enough, the problem might just go away. I didn’t want to be a male, but I was so envious of all the freedom that seemed to come with it.

It took a long time to finally come to terms with my lack of physical strength, and to contest the expectations that I’d built in my head in regards to what I should look like. I wear dresses, and I enjoy wearing them. But I also go out in a sweater and jeans. I wear makeup, but not a lot. Sometimes I

So why is this article titled Girl in the Dark, then? We’re getting to that part. On New Years Eve, I was in our city of Adelaide. I had become separated from my friends, and began to walk back to my hotel on my own. I figured I’d cut through Rundle Mall and then Hindley Street – a ten-minute-or-so walk. It would have been wasteful to get a taxi or Uber. Keep in mind that being in a car with a total stranger is also a no-no anyway, so I was stuck. I walked alone, hoping for the best. It was just ten minutes! How dangerous could it be? On my walk, I was shouted at four times. All four of the shouts came from groups of men. The first two just shouted ‘Happy New Years!’ to which I smiled and nodded, or gave the thumbs up. The third group said something I can’t remember, but I can recall feeling uncomfortable about what they said, or how it was said. The fourth group was the one that genuinely frightened me. They were a group of four or five, walking towards me, and stood between Hindley Street – with its bright lights and noise – and myself, still in Rundle Mall. They were laughing loudly and talking amongst themselves. Then one of them shouted, ‘Turn around! Let’s see your ass!’ I was instantly stiff and alert. I didn’t look them in the eye, but

R E C O U N T

hen I was in late primary school, my mum told me I’d need to start wearing a bra. I cried, and it wasn’t out of joy. I saw it as the beginning of the rest of my life as a female. I associated femininity with weakness, because if something you did was perceived as weak, it was called doing it “like a girl.” I loved running amuck, getting grubby in soccer, my baggy pants and sneakers, and being one of the first picked for sports teams. But almost all of the Disney princesses at that point were nothing more than staple victims or damsels in distress in impractical clothes, whose lives couldn’t start until a handsome man saved her, and I despised this absolutely. I wanted to be my own hero. A bra? I knew what that meant.

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still, in 2019

struggle with being single – and I constantly have to reassure myself of the person I am, that I can be happy without a partner – because I’d been raised with these expectations of not having a full life unless I had someone by my side. I realise now that I still have my intelligence and creativity, and I cling to those as tightly as I can. Being a woman can be great.

L I F E S T Y L E

Is There a Solution for Young Women Walking Home Alone?

piece of my mind:

I knew they were staring at me. I had seconds until passing them. These are a few of the thoughts that shot through my mind: Who the fuck even says that to a girl walking alone? Why did I think this was okay? Why did I think I could walk alone? What will they do to me? Please let them keep walking, please shut them up. Do I gouge their eyes out, or kick them in the balls? There’s a few of them, will they all hurt me or will any of them let me run away? I can’t run, I’m in fucking heels. Do I scream? Should I run out in front of a car to get someone’s attention? Will this fuck me up in the head for the rest of my life? I was having such a good night, is this how it ends?

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R E C O U N T

I walked past the group, every fibre of my being taut and alert, as one of them called out to me a few more times. I ignored his calls. I could see them from the corner of my eye looking at me when I passed them. One of them laughed after leering at me, and called out, ‘Nice!’ I felt disgust settle in my stomach like a stone. I felt fear and anger and hatred towards a group of people I’d never met, for making me feel this way. I can’t tell the difference between a guy that’s joking, and one that wants to hurt me. They don’t have a pair of horns or a maniacal laugh. To me, anyone that talks to me like that – especially when I’m alone – is a potential danger. After the group continued onwards, I did almost run through traffic. I didn’t even want my back to these people. I wanted noise and light and other humans between myself and them. I power-walked the rest of the way down Hindley Street to my hotel, my hands balled into fists, my pride injured and my frustrations boiling over. All that helplessness I’d felt at that first bra was rushing back to me. I wanted to run back and somehow make them all feel small, and ask them how they would react if their friend had said that to their mother,

sister, or daughter. I was also in a state of shock because I’d forgotten, for a while, that danger walks amongst us. They wear T-shirts and shorts, sneakers, and they blend in deceivingly well. Although I don’t know what causes their minds to become mangled and crushed into such an ugly shape, I do know is that there is not an excuse in the world that could possibly be good enough. I was fortunate that the group that walked towards me just continued on their way and didn’t act on their disgusting comments. But I was reminded that I was always, always going to have to be cautious and alert and a little afraid. This article isn’t for the ones who would hurt me. This article is for the men who know these people and have the power to stop them. I wish one guy from that group had smacked his friend on the arm and shaken his head, or told him to stop, or dragged him away from me. But none of them did. If you have a mate that makes jokes about women that make you uncomfortable, don’t laugh. If you can see that his comments are alarming a girl, don’t let him continue. Don’t encourage his questionable behaviour. Don’t let him think it’s okay. I was fortunate enough that the comment didn’t escalate into action. I shouldn’t need anyone to escort me on a ten-minute walk that I take in the dark. I know that so many guys are wonderful, and I’m grateful for the ones that are in my life, I truly am. But amongst the great men – and women, I know that women can be abusers too – walk some despicable human beings. We need to make sure that behaviour like this isn’t permissible. For the sake of the women you love, don’t let your friends get away with shitty behaviour. If it doesn’t feel right to you, you can imagine how terribly wrong it would feel for the woman on the receiving end. To the men who already stand up for what’s right, and the ones who one day will, thank you. It means so much to a girl alone in the dark.

2 7 / / L I F E S T Y L E / / O P I N I O N Personal Safety, Australia, 2016 Data. Australian Bureau of Statistics | abs.gov.au

NO INTEREST I’VE GOT

represent control, and is symbolic of commitment to a place and a community

So why are young people not buying houses? The simplest, most guiltfree answer is that these symbols are luxuries that can be engaged with through other means. Fiscal responsibility does not have to be demonstrated through debt. A sense of control over one’s environment and a sense of belonging in a community can be substituted with a retreat to carefully curated online environment: these substitutes are not necessarily healthier or more stable, but they are significant in proving that aspects of Australian Dream can be addressed through different and inexpensive means.

IN HOMEOWNERSHIP F

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irstly, I would like to acknowledge the significance and cultural meaning of the ‘Australian Dream’ of homeownership on stolen land. The ‘Pay the Rent’ movement is a reminder that homeownership in Australia is a colonial construction, and there is no equitable exchange of real estate on stolen land. As a young student, “future planning” often doesn’t stretch much farther than my weekly budget. Any dreams of careers, financial stability, or building a family no longer ring true to a generation beset by uncertainty. Many find it tough to budget for the ‘Australian Dream’ when living on Centrelink payments: this statement in itself constructs a limited stereotype, excluding the variety of experiences young Australians encounter in trying to sustain the house as an intergenerational symbol of success and security. Historically, the Australian Dream hasn’t represented practicality and security but political power, economic regulation, and symbolic meaning. Homeownership was meaningful before the 1850s when voting eligibility was still based on property rights, and before the 1980s when housing markets were still geared towards owneroccupiers. Homeownership was meaningful every time we used it as a selling point for immigration, inviting families to establish themselves soundly within communities, particularly in the 1960s and 1970s. But the meaning of housing has changed. Houses can represent good financial management, to the extent that complaining about paying off a mortgage carries positive connotations: it is one of the few “positive debts” in Australian culture. Homeownership can

WHAT WAS BUDGETING? What was thatTHAT aboutABOUT budgeting? Even if we select the cheapest options, forgo haircuts and clothes, use our parents’ phone plan, eat ramen at home in the dark, and use public transport to get to Flinders from your share home way out in the suburbs, we can’t escape the cost of living. Despite all these budget hacks, cost of living calculators estimate you would still run up a bill of $241 per week to live in Adelaide. It is important to note that this excludes any extra necessities like textbooks for university, health costs, or the costs of social activities. People who are miserable are bad with money. Calls for self-care and “treat yo’self” culture are fantastic ways to support your mental health when you need a pick me up, but can’t be sustained daily. Spending money can deliver a kick of serotonin but after about five minutes, increased financial anxieties kick in to the point that a vicious consumerist cycle develops. It is important to note that this is not simply an abysmal lack of self-control, but a level of social programming that feeds on the anxieties of a generation who grew up with uncertainty and insecurity on financial and social levels. WHAT DOES HOMEOWNERSHIP COST? What does homeownership cost? The median house price in Adelaide is $630k, with units going at $426,700. Housing prices are generally rising faster than wages, but I am going to assume they are stable just to demonstrate proof of concept. I used a mortgage calculator to determine what the median

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words by LIZ WALDRON artwork by LAWSON DODD

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Young Australians are culture changers, movers and shakers, ready to build a world that works for them. It is the role of youth culture to define itself, whether aligned with or against tradition. The tradition of the Australian Dream may secede to a more nuanced view of the benefits of cohabitation, or to a greater valuation of the high-rise apartment. The most important freedom that we can embrace as a generation is our ability to define what is important to us. Live your best life. It’s still your best, even if it’s in a rental.

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Australian households are renters, but 54% indicated they still had goals of buying their own home within 3 years. That seems like a large percentage until you compare it to the1970s homeownership peak at 75%. Our expectations over housing standards, market projections, employment and wage potential have all changed, as have our values and our levels of disposable income. Instead of facing the question of which home to buy before we retire, we face the question of will we be able to afford to retire at all? What small luxuries I do I have to sacrifice now so that I can afford to move out of my share house and into my own place? What is the true cost of the Australian Dream of independence?

H O M E

So how DO do I Iget myself the median salary? SALARY? HOW GET MYSELF THE MEDIAN In actuality, the cost of living can be bleaker. Most universities in Adelaide advertise the cost of living to be more affordable than other Australian cities, but this framing of the issue as comparative rather than the absolute measure is misleading at best. The average household expenditure on rent in Adelaide is 25%, and if you spend more than 30% of your income on housing, you are under housing stress according to the Rental Affordability Index. If you can stay at home rent-free until you are able to afford a mortgage, then that can be of great help. But some of the issue lies in the fact that the Adelaide housing market is weighed down by homelessness and overcrowding that results from people who can’t just cut down on their expenses. Adelaide’s unemployment rate was 6.61% in December 2018. Are we happy for 6.61% of our population to wrestle with the bureaucracy of Centrelink, only to earn $26 less than they need in order to live miserably? Are we happy to squeeze 8 students into a studio flat so they can save an extra $40 per week? What do we actually gain from saving money to become eligible to borrow more money? These questions generate from the pressure to meet the ideal of homeownership.

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But let’s say I have a full time study load. I earn $20 an hour in a retail position and they roster me on for 24 hours a week. That’s $480 a week, or $24,960 a year. At this pay rate, I would only be eligible to take out a mortgage of up to $118,151 at 5% over 25 years. This means a monthly repayment of $690 (or $159 a week), for 25 years, after which point I still won’t have enough for a unit apartment.

These are complex questions. Everybody under different strains, and it would be ludicrous to expect that everybody aims for the same goals. 29% of

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Let’s break that down. If I lived on my own and minimised my living expenses as much as possible, I would be spending $12,532 on myself per year. This leaves me with $43,764 in savings per year. The mortgage calculator would leave me $55,093 short of the median unit price of $426,000, meaning I would have to save up for a little over a year to make the down payment. After that, I could repay my mortgage in payments of $2,172 per month, totaling $26,068. This is only half of my yearly savings, so theoretically I should be able to afford a mortgage on a unit all to myself. This is if no emergencies happen, if I am single living with no friends, family, health issues, debt, or other loans to repay, and if I wanted to make a 25-year-long financial commitment.

So do I need to share a house forever? Will I ever be independent? Should I expect to own a home before retiring? 2 9

income earner in Adelaide could borrow. At an interest rate of 5% over 25 years, with monthly expenses at the aforementioned minimum of $241 per week, I would be eligible to borrow $371,607, with a monthly repayment of $2,172.

artwork by

NGUYEN PHAM

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fault // responsibility

THE SURFACE

under the surface under the surface

words by ASH GOODMAN

artwork by SHEYDIN DEW

this was a home once

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This story isn’t just imagination – it’s reality for today’s marine ecosystems. The Great Barrier Reef (GBR) is experiencing its greatest die-off event in modern history. That’s a fact. It doesn’t look good on our conscience, much less our economy. Financial services giant Deloitte Australia claims the GBR is responsible for 64, 000 jobs and earns us $6.4 billion every year. But the reef is also a home to marine wildlife. It’s crumbling around us, so it’s time we learned why and what we can do. WHOSE IS IT? ASO ruined reef –FAULT but whose fault is it anyway? How do we rate on reef protection? Pretty poorly. Terry Hughes and others from James Cook University say our GBR experienced unprecedented destruction most recently in 2016. About 91% of the GBR has now been damaged. Marine experts argue we’re at fault. Oil pollution and climate change are anthropogenic (human-caused or accelerated) activities - they’re all driving reef damage. Two main issues affect the GBR: coral bleaching and biodiversity losses. Coral bleaching occurs when marine climates are disturbed. In response to hostile environmental changes, coral release their photosynthetic algae (zooxanthellae) into the water. These algae ordinarily live in harmony, or “symbiosis” with coral, providing them with food and useful items. It’s like having a roommate who buys you groceries but doesn’t ask

CLIMATE IN Climate crisisCRISIS closingCLOSING in The reef’s marine life is also struggling to adapt to climate change caused by our increased output of greenhouse gases, like carbon dioxide. In the 20th century alone, global average sea surface temperatures increased by above 0.7°C. Over the coming decades, we’re predicted to witness a 2-3°C increase with current warming trends. These temperatures don’t seem that bad, but they take a sledgehammer to coral-algae symbiosis. It’s like if your aircon was permanently disabled and replaced with a heater – suddenly, the roommate situation gets tense. Flinders Marine Biology PhD Student and Saving Nemo Outreach Officer, Cassie Hoepner, researches the relationship between clownfish and anemones. She says ‘rising sea temperatures would be the number one threat to clownfish in the wild’. Although GBR sea temperatures have only increased marginally (0.05-0.09°C per decade), Nature journal findings demonstrate that extreme warming events are occurring ever more frequently and lasting longer. Although milder warming may build the reef’s tolerance, the rate of change is the issue: with

R E P O R T

ou’re hosting a house party. Aircon is pumping, pool is perfect, and everyone’s there. Then the local garbage collectors show up and they really don’t like you. They park their truck, dump their waste and throw it into your house. They pump car oil into your pool. Then, they set your house on fire. They’ve killed the party, and you’re furious – how can someone trash your home like that?

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for the money back. But when coral become stressed, they “kick out” their algae friends. This response eventually kills the coral cells, turning them a bleached-white colour. This reduced coral cover leads to less biodiversity in our reef ecosystem. Marine biodiversity refers to the variety of living things in our oceans – the higher the biodiversity, the more variety. A reef with five starfish species has a higher biodiversity than another area with two starfish species. Marine biologists report coral bleaching is accelerating the loss of biodiversity. This compounds existing consequences of human intervention, which has already driven a 0.5% yearly loss in coral habitat from 1985-2012. The GBR is currently home to over 12, 000 marine species, which is declining. However, this estimate uses older and hard-to-obtain data, so we don’t know exactly how badly we’re killing off the reef’s biodiversity.

S C I E N C E

What Effect Are We Having on our Ecological Home?

proof that oil and water don’t mix

greatly accelerated warming, reefs can’t adapt in time. It’s like an exam – you might pass if you prepare, but if the lecturer springs it suddenly? Good luck. That’s not all – our warmer oceans are also getting more acidic. The ocean already has an acid-base balancing system, but our excessive production of carbon dioxide pushes this balance into producing more acid. Who cares? Well, more acidic oceans hurt marine life, particularly producers like plankton that support the GBR ecosystem. Damaging the producers is like if the garbage collectors set your kitchen cupboard on fire in the middle of your house party – everyone relies on this stockpile.

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STICKY SITUATION AAsticky situation What’s more confronting is the sheer amount of pollution being tipped into our marine home. The ABC reports that in 2017, Globex Shipping allegedly spilt 10-15 tonnes of oil off the coast of Townsville, near the GBR. The punishment? A $17 million fine which is very hard to collect from overseas companies. These fines are a slap on the wrist for oil giants – BP, for instance, is worth at least $38 billion. This spill is a drop in the ocean – every year, about 8.4 million tonnes of petroleum contaminates our waters. In the short term, oil is highly toxic and covers marine life in a thick, sticky coating – fish and others find it hard to breathe. Long term effects? We still aren’t entirely sure. Current chemicals used to make oil less sticky and break it down can also hurt marine life. Scientists are trialling new ways of breaking down existing oil pollution, including bacteria that “eat up” spills. Or we could just not throw cans of oil into someone else’s home. COMING TOusBIGHT US Coming backBACK to Bight This theme of marine destruction hits hard and locally. South Australia is home to part of the Great Australian Bight. The ABC reports that this reef – teeming with healthy marine life

– could also hold massive, unexplored oil reserves. Although BP has since changed its mind over extracting this oil, Norwegian company Equinor is very interested. Given their way, an oil well would be set up just 372 km out from our local shores. Since the recent launch of the draft plans, 15 local SA councils have already voiced their concerns. In their proposals, Equinor even admitted there is a risk of oil spills – and we all know the outcomes of these “accidents.” CLEANING OUR BACKYARD Cleaning our backyard But it doesn’t have to be like this – we can still preserve our reefs and take back control. Scientists argue there is still some time to set up conservation areas. These protected areas of the reef – parts where we don’t boat in and screw things up – are vital to curbing pollution efforts. What else can we do? Tell our governments that we take climate action seriously. Force them to listen by holding them accountable to their jobs each election. Battery-powered vehicles and renewable energy infrastructure isn’t just a pipedream – it makes a difference, and we should demand these changes. Hoepner, our emerging marine scientist at Flinders, works with school students to show them how important it is to protect our reef. What’s her number one tip? She urges us to take action and be vocal: ‘Write to your local MPs - make sure they know climate change is a priority for the future of our environment. Talk to family and friends. Make sure as many people as possible know why this is such an important issue.’ The Great Barrier Reef is one of seven natural wonders of the world. Over recent decades, though, the real wonder is that it’s still standing – but our reef is on life support. It’s time to wake up to reality, start cleaning up and protect our backyard. If we don’t, there won’t be one left.

words by LEWIS SMITH

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BONDS AND BILLS

remember when I moved out of home; I was a first-year student who had a pocketful of cash, a few hand-me-down pots and pans and an old motorcycle. I have since become somewhat of a renter-savant (after having made every mistake in the book) and I am here to share my sage advice – so listen close now.

In planning your daring escape from the constraints of stifled homelife you must first appraise the ol’ coin purse. Have $26.87 and a couple of old Minties in there? No go, amigo. Whilst the concept of making something out of nothing may sound agreeable if not inspired even, the truth is far less glamorous. In the unlikely event that you actually pull off moving out on said change and Minties, you will spend the next three months eating baked beans and shitting upwards of 6 times a day. I have moved a few times and found that a good rule of thumb is to have somewhere near $1000 saved up for the occasion.

GET HELP

GAS AND WIFI

If you are on Youth Allowance, get Bond Assistance. Don’t be intimidated by a tight budget, my housemate and I are currently on year three of living out of home and even when just relying on these payments, it is totally doable; if you get behind, don’t panic –be pragmatic. All bill companies will let you set up a payment plan (you MUST call in advance!). Ask your friends to help you move on the day; four workers are better than one. These voluntary slaves will surely flock to aid you, so long as you ply them with promises of cheap $5 domino’s pizza and delicious Sunnyvale Fruity Lexia – for the peasant with the discerning palate. For the love of all that is good, call utility companies and set your water, electricity, gas and internet to commence on the day you move in. Nothing is worse than moving in and having to huddle around a candle like a Neanderthal because it slipped your mind.

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WHAT YOU NEED

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THE GET DOWN

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THE FIRST BIG SHOP

Sponges and dishwashing detergent = yes, Vodka and orange juice = no (not yet, anyways). I will list a few cheap, must haves to always keep on hand: • Toilet paper – Do NOT forget the damned toilet paper. Nothing feels more like regret than resorting to tissues or paper towels – “getting in touch with your inner self” will become a much realer metaphor if you do.

THE FINAL MOVE

• In the event you don’t have your own Uncle Bogdan, shop around for a trailer to hire; a general rule of thumb is that they will cost a median of $60-ish.

• Body wash/loofa/deodorant– If you are going to move out and be a “starving artist” so to speak, you may as well be a clean one.

• Be sure to pack food on the day of the move, you don’t need that greased up fast food feeling when He-Manning a washing machine off a trailer.

• Toothbrush/Toothpaste – I don’t need to explain this.

• Steer clear of energy drinks! My housemate and I used to load up on Red Bull, subconsciously believing it would secretly give us the strength of a thousand tigers; the truth is unfortunately not so. Drinking energy drinks have been linked to an increased risk of heart attack and stroke. Couple that with the stress and fatigue involved with moving, and you are going to have a bad time.

• Ramen – Mi Goreng go for like $2 per 5-pack. Calorie-dense, these will sustain you in your darkest hour. 11/10. • Coffee/long-life milk – Coffee can be surprisingly expensive, and I know that if I run out it is a fast track to a mental breakdown. Plan accordingly.

A D V I C E

• Tinned goods – Are incredibly useful! Go for black beans, kidney beans, corn, mushrooms, tomatoes, soups etc.

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• Pack in advance! • Say goodbye to Mum and Dad, take Fido for one last walk, kiss the family Goldfish goodbye.

• Eggs – Eggs are a favourite of mine; good calories and protein, dirt cheap, and downright delicious.

SEE THE HOOD

Take a walk or drive around your new neighbourhood, find the local shopping centre, fast food, gym, throw up some gang signs to assert your dominance within the community etc.

• Call your twice-removed uncle Bogdan, forget for the briefest of moments that he smells like radishes and sour flop sweat…. Nicely ask to borrow his shiny trailer. It would be a great asset and you can shave off a $60 hire fee, even better!

• Go to supermarkets or Bunnings and ask for free cardboard boxes and find old newspapers for packing. • Start early, finish early

ONE MORE THING

Moving out is full of hidden, unexpected hurdles and commitments, but whilst these commitments have respective challenges, you will grow as a person and be enabled to define yourself and your own space –and that’s pretty badass.

Jawahir, this is our love letter to you. You are always welcome home here at ET.

Jawahir Baraki

R E C O U N T

A single block of text because it is exactly that - a lump in the troat.

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NOR FAR

L I F E S T Y L E

ome, a concept so simple for others, yet so complicated for me. A concept I’ve spent a significant amount of my life thinking about. A concept I’m struggling with today. Let me take a few steps back and explain myself. I was born in a refugee camp in a remote area in Kenya. This will always be a part of me. My mother is Somali, and sought safety in the refugee camp after the civil war broke out in Somalia in the early 90s. She’d originally gone to Ethiopia and lived there for a few years, but she found neither safety nor comfort there. My father is from Eritrea and fled the war there for the refugee camps, where he met my mother. From there my father migrated to South Africa, and then many years later, America. My mother on the other hand came to Australia. But this isn’t a story about where my parents have been or where they call home; this is about me, and how their movements have shaped me. I’ve lived in Australia since my first birthday. I’ve gone through kindergarten, primary school, high school, and currently university here. I’ve never been abroad. I’ve never considered anywhere else home. Yet, I’ve been told on many occasions that this isn’t my home. My earliest childhood memories are of me alone at school without any friends, as none of the other children wanted to play with me as I reminded them of “poo.” They felt that I didn’t belong and this wasn’t my home, and they made it known. It got so bad I was taken to get hearing checks, because all the taunts from the other children made me stop listening to the outside world, and consequently the outside world thought I couldn’t hear them. In high school, the problem was less to do with my skin colour, but more to do with my religion. The sole piece of fabric on my head determined for others this wasn’t my home. This progressed as I got older. I’ve often been on the receiving end of words like, ‘go back to where you’ve come from,’ ‘go home, we’re full,’ and ‘you’re in Australia now, learn how to drive like a f****** Australian.’ Fun fact: I learnt how to drive in Australia. I would never have doubted that this is my home, if it hadn’t been reinforced by others my entire life. I stop then and think to myself, ‘where is my home?’ I turn then to where I was born, the refugee camps. But others who lived there longer than me have also discredited my experiences and my connection to those lands. They go as far as to laugh at me for identifying with it. This shatters me every time. Little do they know, my mother came to Australia at age 20, pregnant, with two children. She left her whole family behind in those refugee camps and to this day, 27 years later that is where they reside. My younger cousins were born there, have gotten married there and have now given birth to their children there. If my extended family can call the refugee camps home, why can’t I? Apparently, I can’t. Apparently, to others and even them, I’m not amongst ilmaha qaxootiga; the children from the refugee camps. I then turn to Somalia. My mother was born in Somalia, I speak Somali, eat Somali food and wear Somali clothes, that must be my home right? Apparently not. Somalia is a very traditional country, which is something I love about it, but one of its traditions is that you are what your father is, which means to a Somali, I’m not from Somalia. This has been reinforced my entire life. It’ll be as simple as me telling a Somali person that I don’t like chilli, to which they’ll respond ‘but you’re Eritrean, how can you not like chili?’ Somehow, people always manage to slip that part in. Especially those that don’t like me and those that are very stuck in old traditions. If only they know how much it hurt. But they don’t. So maybe I am from Eritrea, where my dad is from? Wrong again. I’ve never met my father, he abandoned my mother whilst she was pregnant with me, and consequently I’ve never had any relationship with Eritrea. So by the standards of Eritreans and by my own standards, I’m not from there either. So then I’m left feeling confused and I’ve felt confused from when I was as little as I can remember. I wish that I could write for you that I’m stronger than people’s words, that I don’t let others define where I’m from and where I belong, that there was a simple answer at the end of this article waiting to be discovered. But that isn’t true. I’ll leave you with the words my mother sang for me as a child when I’d ask where I was from: Gurigeeni caawe? Ma dhowo, ma dheero: where is our home? It is neither near, nor far. I’ve now discovered, that home is neither near, nor far, because maybe it just doesn’t exist for me.

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2019

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NOT NEAR,

D O G E H T PAINT S G N I D L I U B DAMN words by MADELINE HAND

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O P I N I O N

here are many hideous buildings in the Adelaide CBD and the surrounding suburbs. These buildings are comprised into lists all over the internet and dubbed as the “eyesores of Adelaide.” Some of the ugliest buildings, as stated by Fritz Magazine, are the Darlington Upgrade, Atira Student Living on Waymouth Street, the Murray Bridge Bunyip, the South Australian Health and Medical Research Institute, and Steve Langdon’s studio on Sturt Street. What are we comparing these buildings to? Well, the City of Adelaide declares the MLC Building, Hawke Building, Carclew, and Bicentennial Conservatory as some of the prettiest buildings in Adelaide. Trip Adviser also reports the Rundle Mall Pigs and the National Wine Centre of Australia as highlights of our city. The Murray Darling Bunyip is one controversially ugly structure. The Bunyip was first built in 1972 and is based off Ngarrindjeri Dreamings about overfishing. It is said that the bunyip comes up out of the murky dark waters to growl twice and then returns underwater. Bert was the original bunyip who was then replaced by Bertha, a smaller and friendlier looking creature. Although there have been complaints about Bertha, I’ve never been disappointed by Murray Darling’s little attraction.

irregularly placed windows. Its 16 stories make it tower monstrously above the smaller infrastructures in the suburb. Unfortunately, it is unknown if the building will ever be painted. However, the complex may not be as terrible as one first thinks. It aims to encourage social connection and activities at lower levels with a backyard-like space outside. Designed with sustainability in mind, the building boasts energy efficient heating and equipment, LED lighting, gas, water heating, and a solar power system. So, is it a $32 million mistake or success? And why are buildings, like the Atira Student Living complex, so horrible to look at? Maybe it’s because the structures stick out of the street due to their odd architectural design. Or perhaps it’s because some of the buildings are cement blocks with minimal windows or are too tall, drawing unwanted negative attention.

Also dubbed as an unattractive creation, the Atira Student Living complex completed in 2018 is a concrete prism with

So, now we know why these two building types are so out of place, but how can we make them belong in the urban

It makes me wonder about when a lot of these buildings were built and what style the architects had in mind. Many seem to me to be following a modernist or postmodern approach. Modernist buildings are linear and geometric, focussing on functionality whereas postmodern buildings are playful, using curved lines and creative designs that push boundaries.

artwork by KIENAN MCKAY

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Art does not simply exist within a gallery but can liven up a building, street, or neighbourhood by adding to the atmosphere. Intertwined within all aspects of reality, art transcends physical and imaginary boundaries. It can remould our understanding of the world and how we interpret the things before us. Art can be thought provoking, entertaining, inspirational, or controversial. It can be functional, creative, technically skilled, or abstract and encourage expressionism, interactivity, or individuality. New forms of art are breaking the barriers of what we consider to be art. For example, the Gallery of Modern Art in Brisbane featured works that blew my mind with their originality. From Here to Ear was an installation featuring metal coat hangers and real live birds. As these birds flew between the three coat hanger structures, the metal jingled which forced the viewers to listen as the birds interacted with

their environment. The aim of the piece was to amplify the feelings and emotions of the viewers in that current moment. Controversial in its use of live animals, this piece forces us to question what art is. On a similar note, We Are All Flesh is an art piece consisting of two intertwined dead horse bodies. It is hung in the Gallery of South Australia. Again, it has been highly criticised, but I admire how its strategic position in the gallery among traditional paintings is challenging.

O P I N I O N

landscape? Perhaps public art is the key to reducing tension and negative feelings towards parts of the city. A report from the City of Adelaide highlights the importance of public art: ‘Public art is an expression of Adelaide’s cultural richness and creativity.’ It represents both community and individual identity ‘interwoven in the fabric of place.’ Public art can be both temporary and permanent across a range of mediums such as performance, murals, mosaics, lighting, sculptures, and installations. Rundle Mall’s four bronze pigs, A Day Out, and the mall’s balls, Spheres, are iconic to the CBD. One reason why the pigs are so popular is because of the personalities they have been given. One pig searches mischievously through the trash, one is looking happily at an empty bench, another has a cheerful expression on its face, and the last piggy is exploring the ground with its snout. The installation’s location in the middle of the walkways demands attention from passers-by and creates a playful atmosphere.

Banksy is famous for his street art with strong political and social messages. His name was hot in 2018 when his piece, Girl with the Balloon, was shredded by the frame that held it when it was sold at an auction. Banksy’s clever joke on the auctioneering process, as he believes that art shouldn’t be owned by anyone, has made the piece even more popular. Although many of Banksy’s works are illegal in their location and are removed soon after they’re made, they are still very powerful. Banksy’s pieces, along with others I’ve mentioned, demonstrate not only the importance of art in urban areas, but also how we can broaden our ideas of what we classify as art, whether this be postmodern buildings we see on the street or a sculpture made from animal carcasses. I think Banksy’s got the right idea when he says, ‘I want to live in a world created by art, not just [one] decorated with it.’

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H O M E

PU ZZ LE S

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6.) What Vance Joy album featured the song We’re going Home? 7.) What field did female scientist Hedwig Kohn specialise in? 8.) What sport uses the term “home run”? 9.) What team holds the current record for the largest winning margin in an A-League soccer game? 10.) The South Australian town of Kingston is home to which famous landmark?

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1.) Who wrote the 1973 Australian novel The Eye of The Storm? 2.) What year was Robert Browning’s poem Home Thoughts From Abroad written? 3.) What flag featured on the front cover of Empire Times “Home” issue in 2015? 4.) What is the address in Springfield the Simpsons live at? 5.) Which Australian state was not settled by convicts?

P U Z Z L E S

4.) This Admiral famously said ‘It’s a trap!’ in Star Wars Episode VI 5.) 1982 film based on the Phillip K Dick novel Do Androids Dream of Eletric Sheep? 7.) F. Scott Fitzgerads second novel, The Beautiful and the ... 8.) Joaquin Phoenix is set to star in an upcoming film about this DC super villian 9.) What colour is the disc in the centre of the Indigenous Australian flag?

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ACROSS

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1.) The 1977 play The Club by David Wiliamson is based around which sport? 2.) You’re such a richard Cranium 3.) This city is the home of the Rijksmuseum 5.) Katie Bouman is famous for being the first to create a real picture of a ... 6.) Home is where the ... is

ANSWERS 1.) Patrick White // 2.) 1845 // 3.) The Indigenous flag// 4.) 742 Evergreen Terrace // 5.) South Australia // 6.) Nation of Two // 7.) Physics // 8.) Baseball // 9.) Adelaide United (8-1 against North Queensland Fury 2011) // 10.) The Big Lobster

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F I C T I O N

crea story

the journey back.

he bus rattled itself to a stop, brakes squealing in protest. I flung my backpack over my shoulders and took the duffel bag I’d been storing at my feet in one hand, grabbing hold of a pole in the other to help pull myself up off the somewhat padded seat. Over my shoulder, I chucked a quick ‘Thanks’ to the driver as I stepped off the bus platform and onto the concrete pavement. It looked a little more cracked and gum-stained than the last time I’d stepped foot on it. I took a deep breath of the flower-filled spring air and almost sighed out loud despite myself. Being outside after sitting anxiously on a packed bus for the better part of two hours—I was sure that there was no better feeling. I placed my backpack and duffel onto the bus stop bench and lifted my arms above my head, my back popping and cracking as I lengthened it out and twisted from side to side. I paused for a brief moment, then re-burdened myself with my luggage

and started off on the last part of my journey back to my childhood home. Trudging down the path, I tried to ignore the nerves I’d been feeling for the better part of a month: ever since I’d gotten that text inviting me home for my little sister’s birthday. I looked up from my shoes, searching for anything that could distract my thoughts and saw a looming structure that did the trick. To my right, the old, weather-beaten wooden fence stood two metres tall, any and all view into the house that belonged to the Gordans—at least that’s who used to live there—was completely blocked. They were always very pedantic when it came to their privacy. Warm feelings blossomed in my chest as I gazed at the fence, remembering the times my primary school friends and I would try to boost each other up to get a peek into the backyard, chattering away excitedly at the impossible things the fence might contain. Even just a look at the roof would’ve been mindblowing to us, but being as small as we were, we could never make it high enough. The property vanished from sight as I turned a corner onto a small side road. I hopped over the gutter and onto the road. As I cut across diagonally to the other side, I gaped at the

artwork by ANTHONY WYNDHAM

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scenery before me. I remembered most of these front yards being barren and boring, the houses belonging mostly to people who rented them out to short term boarders. That must have changed because now all I could see till the cul-desac was vivid flowers blooming all the way up the street. Looking at the gardens as I walked past helped ease my mind as I became increasingly aware of how close my destination was getting. My stomach tied itself into knots whenever my mind wandered even a little close to thinking about it. For the better part of two years, I hadn’t seen or even spoken to my family. Not until that invite. Not since they all but kicked me out because they couldn’t—wouldn’t—take a moment to understand me and—I shook my head, pulling my arms in towards my stomach. It was happening again. Just stop thinking about it. Don’t do this to yourself. I stopped and stared at the plants, trying to level my breathing and distract myself. Thinking about it only leads down paths that I’d spent much too long wallowing in after it happened. A melody of screeches and squawks thankfully pulled me

from my anxious spiral. I tilted my head away from the garden and towards the tree that grew on the corner of the street. Covering it in a blanket of white were dozens of cockatoos, flying in and around the branches, sitting there nibbling away at bunches of flowers until they fell to the pavement below. I made my way over to it, savouring their carefree energy and trying to absorb as much as I could. Underneath the tree, rolling about in the fallen flowers and leaves, was a sight I least expected. The ginger cat that’d first appeared when I was about eleven. Oslo. Seeing the old cat brought a smile to my face and I quickened my pace, calling out to him as I got closer. Oslo sat up and turned to face me, petals stuck to his fur. I bent down and reached a hand out for him to sniff and hopefully recognise me, but Oslo took off down the street. I tried not to feel too hurt as I watched him scamper down the nearest driveway to hide. Oslo used to trot by me every morning when I walked to the bus, rubbing against my leg whenever I stopped to cross a road.

I guess it’d just been a little too long. Righting myself, I turned towards the side street to continue and froze. I stared at the street sign. My old street sign. Everything that I’d tried to burry at the back of my mind, all the irrational thoughts and anxieties I’d been harbouring crawled their way forwards and wreaked havoc in my head. Will my room still be there when I go back? Will they have turned it into something else? What about my artwork? Did they take them down and throw them away? The pictures of me that were hanging in the loungeroom: are they still there? Will Rigby remember me? Oslo didn’t. How will my sister act around me now? Will she be awkward and uncomfortable?

That question made me stop in my tracks. What if they did? There was nothing stopping it. But what if they don’t? My mind settled down long enough for me to draw a deep breath and force my hand over to the doorbell. Almost immediately after I pushed the button, as if on cue, frantic barking boomed from the back of the house, getting gradually louder the closer Rigby got to the door. The tightness in my throat returned as I heard him and imagined him barrelling down the passage to the entrance. In between barks, I called out Rigby’s name a couple of times, a smile beaming from my face as Rigby’s pitch spiked up higher and he started to whine more than I’d ever heard him do before. At the sound of it, I felt a stinging pressure build behind my eyes as tears welled up again. He’s excited that I’m back. I told myself. He recognised my voice.

Do I really want to find out?

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F I C T I O N

He still remembers me. I dropped down towards the pavement and let my duffel fall with me, wrapping my arms around my legs as I buried my face into my knees. My hands shook as badly as my lungs did every time I tried to draw deeper breaths into them. I focused on grounding myself like my therapist had instructed: Five things you can see, four things you can feel, three things you can hear, two things you can smell, and one good thing about yourself… Five… Four… Three… Two… One… My breathing started to level out. After another few moments, I stood back up and wiped the tears from my face that my jeans had dutifully been trying to soaking up for me. I grabbed my bag one last time and coerced my legs into walking the last few steps. I kept my eyes fixed on my shoes, refusing to look up even as I turned to unlatch the gate blocking the path that led to the house. I carefully treaded up the bricks and the stairs until I reached the front door. What if they see me and change their minds last minute?

The knot in my throat plummeted down into my gut as I heard another sound come from behind the door, one telling Rigby to settle down and move out of the doorway. I stood there, glued to the spot for a millisecond before I rushed to rub the tears from my eyes and attempt to straighten my clothes as the wooden door behind the flyscreen swung open. The figure on the other side was separated only by a thin piece of interwoven metal. They had one hand still holding onto the doorknob and the other wrestling with an extremely excited Rigby. They let go of the first handle to reach for the next, metal squeaking against metal as the latch unclipped. My father pushed the door open, his expression pausing slightly as he looked up at me. Finally, his face broke into smile, one filled with a mixture of sadness and guilt, but also overflowing with happiness and relief. ‘Welcome home, kiddo.’ words by REBEKAH MANSER

poetry eloise quinn-valentine 2019

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funeral muse.

[noun]

It was a beautiful funeral. If it’s appropriate to say such a thing. Then again, most funerals are. Not good, not nice: “beautiful.” Sometimes that’s the only appropriate thing we can say. Everyone is in their best clothes. Faces are washed new by tears. Others are still as glass. Sombre, like a painting. Life stops for the dead. That’s the only appropriate thing we can do. Nice words are exchanged, as are handshakes and hugs. People emerge from the woodworks of society, momentarily brought into contact by a shared acquaintance or loved one. We are compelled to gloss over personal grievances and grudges to do, as the funeral director reminds us, “the proper and dignified thing.” We tell stories. To remember the past and forget the future. We tell them to reconnect and to rationalise. They are memories of memories now. The living re-write the lives of those who cannot write themselves. They are edited, abridged, and republished with the rose-tint of permanent loss. We blot out their worst moments, honour their best, and ease the tension with their most bizarre. It’s funny, how much laughter there can be at a funeral. Is it laughter for the dead or the living? Then there are the flowers: splashes of life and colour in a ceremony for the dead. They adorn polished wood, then polished stone. Until they wilt and die too. Then we start again. Artificial flowers would break the cycle, but they seem wrong somehow. Still beautiful, at first, but we feel hollow when we notice they’re not real. They’re not alive, and not dead either. Death is real. It implies life in another time. Death means you were alive and, always will be, real. Are funerals for the dead or the living?

CREATIVE

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COMPETITION

1st prize: $200

2nd prize: $50

Winners will also be published in Issue 7: Creative

SUBMISSIONS DUE: Monday 5th August WINNERS ANNOUNCED: Issue 7 Launch Party & Reading Night CATAGORIES: Prose (3,000 words) Poetry (80 words) Visual Art Photography

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A FRIEND

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So we put our name down for the foster program with the idea that if the dog we fostered wasn’t right for us, we would place her for adoption at the end of the foster period. Simple! In August, Venus the two-year-old fawn greyhound came home. It was a tumultuous couple of big dogs // small dogs

I could talk all day about greyhounds and how wonderful they are – but I will let GAPSA do the talking for me. GAPSA is the main greyhound adoption organisation in South Australia, and are always happy to have a chat about anything greyhound related. Check them out online at gapsa.org.au or give them a call – you never know, a greyhound might be your next best friend.

words by CASS HEATON

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The great thing about GAPSA is that their foster program allows owners to “trial” having a dog. As part of the foster program, an ex-racing greyhound is homed with you for approximately six weeks. During this time, you are provided with food, leads, and coats for your new guest. The foster program is designed to help these dogs learn how to become pets and involves basic toilet training, learning their name, and learning house rules.

Owning a greyhound has a multitude of benefits. They are great companions who are very cuddly and playful, but also couch potatoes who sleep most of the day. Our girls only need a 15-20 minute walk per day and they are incredibly low shed, making them great for people with allergies. They don’t need large space or constant company – in fact, greyhounds make great apartment dogs, and are ideal for full time workers.

( O R

The bad thing about a poodle is that it will set you back $3,000 – and what’s more, it still didn’t fit my husband’s standards. That’s when we came across Greyhound Adoption Program South Australia (GAP SA). My husband agreed to come to a GAPSA adoption day with me in July 2018. On that day we met so many beautiful greyhounds, and being an animal lover, I was ready to adopt every single one of them. We went home dogless on the proviso that he would “think about it,” but by the time we got home we were set – we were going to get a greyhound.

At the end of the foster period, Venus passed her Green Collar assessment, which allows her to be in public without a muzzle, and we adopted her. We haven’t looked back since – she is a dream come true, and while she isn’t what we had in mind, she’s more than we could ever need. Now that we have a greyhound, we will never have anything else! In February 2019, we drove all the way to Victoria to rescue our second girl, Rhythm, who is seven and had been used as a breeding dog in the racing industry.

H O M E

VENUS LEARNT HOW TO LOVE, AND WE FELL IN LOVE WITH HER

weeks with sleepless nights, and a few accidents inside while she learnt where the toilet was. Venus learnt how to love, and we fell in love with her all too quickly. We both knew just a week in that we couldn’t let her go.

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n the day my husband and I decided we wanted a dog, we realised we were very different people when it came to dog preferences. I grew up with small dogs – poodles, chihuahuas, and the like. My husband had never had a dog, but he did know one thing – it needed to be big. He wanted to ‘throw a ball into the ocean as far as [he] could and not have the dog drown getting it.’ In an attempt to win this fight, I reminded him of his allergy to dog hair and stated that a poodle was the only option!

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