Broken Hill, red desert land, where mines dig deep in the middle of the city. After Sturt’s excursions, when the white man settled here, he took down all the ancient, slow-growing Mulga trees in the vicinity of smoldering mines, greedy for silver, lead and zinc. Only when the dust storms, now raging unstoppably through depleted open planes, got worse and worse to the point they interrupted the daily raping of Mother Earth, did the mining companies themselves start some attempt of reforestation. But like the hurt, pain and losses that have been inflicted on Aboriginal people, the Mulgas take a long time to grow back and heal.
The mining reflects the instant-gratification culture of capitalism. Explore, destroy and leave. Silverton – a city of a mere 50 now has not much left than a pub – plus a perfect setting for ‘out-in-the-desert’ movies like Mad Max and Priscilla Queen of the desert. White Cliff, a bit further east, with an even smaller population still has a pub, reflecting the Aussie drinking culture which hasn’t gotten much better since the times of the first convict’s settlement in desolate cove, now Sydney, where shortly after the First Fleet’s landing in 1788 rum had established itself as the main currency and rum cartels run by a few elitist officers, the main rule of law… But who am I to judge… yet I can hear her scream: Enough is enough!