Journal articles on the topic 'Mount Makulu Research Station'

The impact of climate change on crop growth and yield can be predicted using crop simulation models. A study was conducted to assess the reliability and uncertainty of simulated maize yield for the near future in 2050s at Mount Makulu (latitude = 15.550o S, longitude = 28.250o E, altitude = 1213 m), Zambia. The Long Ashton Research Station Weather Generator (LARS-WG) was used to generate baseline (1980-2010) and future (2040-2069) climate scenarios for two Representative Concentration Pathways (RCP 4.5 and RCP 8.5). Results showed that mean temperature would increase by 2.09oC (RCP 4.5) and 2.56oC (RCP 8.5) relative to the baseline (1980-2010). However, rainfall would reduce by 9.84% (RCP 4.5) and 11.82% (RCP 8.5). The CERES-Maize model simulated results for rainfed maize growth showed that the simulated parameters; days after planting (DAP), biomass and grain yield would reduce from 2040-2069/1980-2010 under both RCP4.5 and RCP8.5 scenarios. The LARS-WG was successfully for our location can be used in generating climate scenarios for impact studies to inform policy, stakeholders and decision makers. Adaptation strategies to mitigate for the potential impact of climate change includes several sowing dates, cultivar selection that are efficient at using nitrogen fertilizer and planting new cultivars breeds that will thrive under low root soil water content and higher temperatures.

Aflatoxin contamination remains a major challenge for smallholder groundnut producers in Southern Africa. This is compounded by the stringent aflatoxin regulatory regimes in the lucrative international markets that continue to deny groundnuts produced in this region the access to markets. Participatory on-farm experiments were carried in 2016 and 2017 in Chinkhombe (Katete) and Kalichero (Chipata), and on-station trials at Mount Makulu Central Research Station (Chilanga) to evaluate the efficacy of groundnut planting methods: planting in double rows, single rows, tied ridges and on flatbeds, for pre-harvest aflatoxin management. Planting on flatbeds (no ridges), a popular planting method in most parts of Zambia was designated as the baseline. Significantly low (p < 0.05) levels of aflatoxin, (10.3 ± 3.1 μg/kg) were recorded in the groundnuts planted on tied ridges, and less than 22% of these had aflatoxin levels above the Zambia regulatory limit of 10 μg/kg, compared to more than 40% in other methods. Except for double rows, significantly higher pod yield, 1193 kg/ha, was recorded in groundnuts planted on tied ridges compared to other pre-harvest management options. A reduction of 37 and 81% in aflatoxin contamination was observed in groundnuts planted on single rows and tied ridges, respectively compared to an increase of 39.2% in double rows above 54.3 ± 10.9 μg/kg recorded in flatbeds. In addition, tied ridging was observed to improve plant vigour, lower disease incidence, insect pest and weed infestation. It is clear that the evaluation of these practices on-farm enabled more farmers to be more aware of the effects of these methods and get motivated to adopt them. It is thus imperative that participatory on-farm evaluations of existing aflatoxin management options are carried out as they are an essential step in influencing adoption and uptake of pre-harvest management control methods among smallholder farmers.

The objective of the study was to identify the grafting method, which will have a higher success rate of scion development. The study was conducted at Mount Makulu Central Research station in Chilanga, Zambia (15o33’S / 28o11’E) from April 2010 to November 2011. The study had 4 vegetative propagation methods that varied in the treatment of the rootstock and scion. The four methods were Standard T- budding (STB); Modified TBudding with decapitation (TBD); T- budding with scion bending (TBB); Crown grafting (CG). Bud take, shoot growth, leaf emergence and Leaf area index were measured up to 11 weeks after treatment (WAT). With CG there was 100 % bud take. STB had a bud take of 58.3 %. TBD had a bud take of 50 %. The lowest bud take percentage was recorded in TBB, which had a bud take of 41.7 %. At 5 weeks the STB and TBB treatment had shoot length of 0.7 and 1.0 cm respectively which were the shortest; this was followed by the CG treatment at 15.3 cm and the modified TBD with apical shoot decapitation (21.7 cm). STB shoots did not start growing until about 5 weeks, which was 2 weeks after the rootstock was cut off. At 5 weeks, the TBB and STB were yet to form leaves. The CG had close to 20 leaves and the TBD had almost 15.2 leaves. At the end of 11 weeks, the TBB had the highest number of leaves. Across the grafting methods; the Leaf area exhibited a pattern similar to leaf number; it kept on doubling every 2 weeks to until the 9th week after which the increase was negligible. At 11 weeks, the highest leaf area was in the TBD followed by the STB and lowest in the CG treatment.Int. J. Agril. Res. Innov. & Tech. 7 (1): 64-70, June, 2017

AbstractMount Melbourne and Mount Rittmann are quiescent, although potentially explosive, alkaline volcanoes located 100 km apart in Northern Victoria Land quite close to three stations (Mario Zucchelli Station, Gondwana and Jang Bogo). The earliest investigations on Mount Melbourne started at the end of the 1960s; Mount Rittmann was discovered during the 1988–89 Italian campaign and knowledge of it is more limited due to the extensive ice cover. The first geophysical observations at Mount Melbourne were set up in 1988 by the Italian National Antarctic Research Programme (PNRA), which has recently funded new volcanological, geochemical and geophysical investigations on both volcanoes. Mount Melbourne and Mount Rittmann are active, and are characterized by fumaroles that are fed by volcanic fluid; their seismicity shows typical volcano signals, such as long-period events and tremor. Slow deformative phases have been recognized in the Mount Melbourne summit area. Future implementation of monitoring systems would help to improve our knowledge and enable near-real-time data to be acquired in order to track the evolution of these volcanoes. This would prove extremely useful in volcanic risk mitigation, considering that both Mount Melbourne and Mount Rittmann are potentially capable of producing major explosive activity with a possible risk to large and distant communities.

Abstract. In 2005, the SIGMA Program (Mount Aconcagua GNSS Research System) was implemented to investigate the geodynamics of the Aconcagua mountain region in the Central Andes. For this purpose, a continuously recording GPS station, ACON, was installed on the summit of Mount Aconcagua at 6.292 m a.s.l. The installation required special technology to support the equipment under extreme climatic conditions. The power supply system was optimized in 2008, so that a greater quantity of data could be recorded. This, in turn, will lead to more accurate estimates of displacement of the Aconcagua peak. Preliminary results from the ACON station indicate an average horizontal velocity of 0.023±0.0001 m/yr toward NE in 2 time windows between 2006 and 2008.

Abstract. After 17 years of research at Morro do Cachimbo station (MC) in Brazil, 51 flashes with strokes higher than 2 kA were registered. The data are compared with similar data obtained from the Mount San Salvatore station (SS), Switzerland, in terms of the incidence of downward or upward flashes, polarity, and flash multiplicity. The comparison indicates that at MC the percentage of upward flashes and the multiplicity of negative downward flashes are higher than at SS, while the percentage of downward positive flashes is lower. Key words. Meteorology and atmospheric dynamics (atmospheric electricity; lightning; instruments and techniques)

This paper deals with the analysis of local Love and Shida numbers (parameters h2 and l2) values of the Australian Yarragadee and Mount Stromlo satellite laser ranging (SLR) stations. The research was conducted based on data from the Medium Earth Orbit (MEO) satellites, LAGEOS-1 and LAGEOS-2, and Low Earth Orbit (LEO) satellites, STELLA and STARLETTE. Data from a 60-month time interval, from 01.01.2014 to 01.01.2019, was used. In the first research stage, the Love and Shida numbers values were determined separately from observations of each satellite; the obtained values of h2, l2 exhibit a high degree of compliance, and the differences do not exceed formal error values. At this stage, we found that it was not possible to determine l2 from the data of STELLA and STARLETTE. In the second research stage, we combined the satellite observations of MEO (LAGEOS-1+LAGEOS-2) and LEO (STELLA+STARLETTE) and redefined the h2, l2 parameters. The final values were adopted, and further analyses were made based on the values obtained from the combined observations. For the Yarragadee station, local h2 = 0.5756 ± 0.0005 and l2 = 0.0751 ± 0.0002 values were obtained from LAGEOS-1 + LAGEOS-2 and h2 = 0.5742 ± 0.0015 were obtained from STELLA+STARLETTE data. For the Mount Stromlo station, we obtained the local h2 = 0.5601 ± 0.0006 and l2 = 0.0637 ± 0.0003 values from LAGEOS-1+LAGEOS-2 and h2 = 0.5618 ± 0.0017 from STELLA + STARLETTE. We found discrepancies between the local parameters determined for the Yarragadee and Mount Stromlo stations and the commonly used values of the h2, l2 parameters averaged for the whole Earth (so-called global nominal parameters). The sequential equalization method was used for the analysis, which allowed to determine the minimum time interval necessary to obtain stable h2, l2 values. It turned out to be about 50 months. Additionally, we investigated the impact of the use of local values of the Love/Shida numbers on the determination of the Yarragadee and Mount Stromlo station coordinates. We proposed to determine the stations (X, Y, Z) coordinates in International Terrestrial Reference Frame 2014 (ITRF2014) in two computational versions: using global nominal h2, l2 values and local h2, l2 values calculated during this research. We found that the use of the local values of the h2, l2 parameters in the process of determining the stations coordinates influences the result.

Bryofauna is all of the animal life which associated with moss. Actually, biodiversity of bryofauna have not been studied much in Indonesia. Research on community structure of terrestrial microarthropod bryofauna has been done in three different altitudes in the tropical zone of the Ungaran Mountain, Semarang, Central Java. The objective of this study is to compare community structure of bryofauna contained in three different altitudes in the tropical zone. The research was conducted from April to November 2012. Sampling was carried out at 3 stations with the different heights that are the station I with an altitude 750 m asl, the altitude of the station II with an altitude 980 m asl and the station III with an altitude of 1100 m asl. Sampling was done purposively using square plot method. Bryofauna identification was conducted in Ecology and Biosistematics Laboratory University of Diponegoro and Entomologi Laboratory of Zoology Departement Indonesian Institute of Sciences. The results shows that the tropical zone have5 classes, 16 orders and 31 suborders/family of bryofauna. Mesostigmata and Oribatida was the dominant taxa at all heights except at an altitude of 980 m asl, Oribatida was categorized as subdominant. Diversity of bryofauna at different heights shows that decreasing diversity patterns, along with the increasing altitude. In general, the distribution of bryofauna at different heights is quite spread evenly with the flattening index values ​​betweens 0.84 to 0.94. Bryofauna taxsa richness and diversity of bryophytes at different heights in the tropical zone showed the same pattern fluctuated. Taxa group which play a role as predator are taxa that the most abundant in the tropical zone of the Ungaran Mount. Keywords:Bryofauna terrestrial, bryophytes, Ungaran mount, community structure

Much of the Middle Archaic culture period of southwestern Virginia remains a mystery. Discovery of a Guilford manifestation utilizing volcanic rhyolite for tools and weapons presents exciting potential for adding another cultural data link to this period. A large base camp/quarry and reduction station above 3300 ft. amsl, the Fairwood Horse Camp (44GY18) assemblage is 89 percent rhyolite with diagnostics over 90 percent Guilford. Attributes of other Middle Archaic sites as well as previous scholars research are reviewed and compared in the Grayson County, Mount Rogers, Virginia area.

Abstract. In Lebanon, the seasonal snowpack is poorly monitored despite its importance for water resource supply. The snow accumulates on Mount Lebanon in karstic depressions named “sinkholes.” It is important to monitor the evolution of the snow height inside those “sinkholes”, because of their key role as “containers” for seasonal snow. UAV photogrammetry is a major technological breakthrough which allows an accurate monitoring of the snow height. Because the impact of flight parameters on snow height retrievals is not well documented yet, this research aims to evaluate the impact of UAV flight altitude on the resolution and accuracy of the resulting orthomosaic and DSM. The flight missions were done using the Phantom DJI which generated five DSMs. These are validated using total station measurements.The results indicate that the snow DSMs can be retrieved by adopting a resolution of 8 to 84 cm, a point density between 1.43 and 153 points/sqm and a RMSE of 13 to 41 cm. The testing was done using an elevation varying between 50 and 500 m. The results will be compared to total station observations. These results allow the user to choose the suitable flight altitude for required resolution and points density. We suggest that a flight altitude of 100 m is sufficient for the survey of the snow cover elevation.

Abstract. Several sensitivity experiments with the Weather Research and Forecasting (WRF) model version 3.8.1 have been performed to find the optimal parameterization setup for precipitation amounts and patterns around Mount Kenya at a convection-permitting scale of 1 km. Hereby, the focus is on the cumulus scheme, with tests of the Kain–Fritsch, the Grell–Freitas, and no cumulus parameterizations. In addition, two longwave radiation schemes and two planetary boundary layer parameterizations are evaluated, and different nesting ratios and numbers of nests are tested. The precipitation amounts and patterns are compared against a large amount of weather station data and three gridded observational data sets. The temporal correlation of monthly precipitation sums show that fewer nests lead to a more constrained simulation, and hence the correlation is higher. The pattern correlation with weather station data confirms this result, but when comparing it to the most recent gridded observational data set the difference between the number of nests and nesting ratios is marginal. The precipitation patterns further reveal that using the Grell–Freitas cumulus parameterization in the domains with resolutions >5 km provides the best results when it comes to precipitation patterns and amounts. If no cumulus parameterization is used in any of the domains, the temporal correlation between gridded and in situ observations and simulated precipitation is especially poor with more nests. Moreover, even if the patterns are captured reasonably well, a clear overestimation in the precipitation amounts is simulated around Mount Kenya when using no cumulus scheme in all domains. The experiment with the Grell–Freitas cumulus parameterization in the domains with resolutions >5 km also provides reasonable results for 2 m temperature with respect to gridded observational and weather station data.

Abstract. High frequency measurements of carbon monoxide (CO) recorded over three years at Mount Waliguan (WLG), a global background station in remote western China, were examined using back trajectory analysis. Corrections for the drift in reference gases were also included in the data revision. Between July 2004 and June 2007, a time series of CO exhibited large fluctuations and the 5%, 50% and 95%-percentiles of relevant CO mixing ratios were 102 ppb, 126 ppb and 194 ppb. Approximately 50% of all observed data have been selected as CO background data using a mathematical procedure of robust local regression with the remainder affected by regional-scale pollution. The monthly mean background CO mixing ratios showed a minimum in summer and a maximum in late winter, although all seasons were effected by short-term enhancements that exceeded background levels two or more times. The CO data were compared to the values observed at the high alpine research station Jungfraujoch, Switzerland. Smaller seasonal amplitudes were observed at WLG compared to the Jungfraujoch due to lower winter and spring CO levels, however, episodic enhancements of polluted air were much greater at the site in China. The air parcels arriving at WLG came predominately from the West, except in summer when advection from the East and Southeast prevailed. Transport from the East typically brought polluted air to the site, having passed over populated urban areas upwind. A large number of elevated CO mixing ratios could also be associated with advection from the Northwest of WLG via the central Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region (XUAR) and the Ge'ermu urban area where growing industrial activities as well as crops residue burning provide large sources of CO. These background conditions were observed most frequently when air masses originated from remote Tibet west of WLG. The probability that air parcels pass over regions of clean or polluted regions was further identified using potential source contribution function (PSCF) analysis.

Abstract. Quasicontinuous measurements of carbon monoxide (CO) recorded over three years at Mount Waliguan (WLG), a global baseline station in remote western China, were examined using back trajectory analysis. The data include a revision to correct the working reference scale to the WMO2000 scale and corrections for drift in the reference gases. Between July 2004 and June 2007, CO exhibited large fluctuations and the 5 %, 50 % and 95 %-percentiles of relevant CO mixing ratios were 102 ppb, 126 ppb and 194 ppb. Approximately 50 % of all observed data were selected as CO background data using a mathematical procedure of robust local regression, with the remainder affected by regional-scale pollution. The monthly mean background CO mixing ratios showed a minimum in summer and a maximum in late winter, although all seasons were affected by short-term enhancements that exceeded background levels. The CO data were compared to values observed at the high alpine research station at Jungfraujoch, Switzerland. Smaller seasonal amplitudes were observed at WLG compared to the Jungfraujoch due to lower winter and spring CO levels, however, episodic enhancements of polluted air were greater at WLG. The air parcels arriving at WLG came predominately from the west, except in summer when advection from the east and southeast prevailed. Transport from the east or southeast typically brought polluted air to the site, having passed over populated urban areas upwind. A large number of elevated CO mixing ratios could also be associated with advection from the northwest of WLG via the central Xinjiang Uygur Autonomous Region (XUAR) and the Ge'ermu urban area where growing industrial activities as well as crops residue burning provide sources of CO. Air masses passing over northwestern Gansu were associated with relatively high CO values suggesting an anthropogenic influence, which was likely due to anthropogenic emissions from northwestern China (based on back-trajectory and potential source contribution analysis and on the INTEX-B: intercontinental Chemical Transport Experiment-Phase B). Background conditions were observed most frequently in air parcels from remote Tibet west of WLG. The probability that air parcels pass over regions of clean or polluted regions was further identified using potential source contribution function (PSCF) analysis.

<p class="AbstractEnglish"><strong>Abstract:</strong>. There was a fire in the land and forest of the Gunung Merbabu National Park in Semarang Regency, Central Java. The fire burned the land on Sunday, October 14 2018 afternoon, the area of land in the forest area of Mount Merbabu which was burned reached 100 hectares. The number is predicted to increase because the flames have not been extinguished. Fires in the Mount Merbabu National Park not only damage the forest ecosystem. The fire also decided the pipeline of clean water flowing to a number of hamlets in Batur Village. Land and forest fires are supported by meteorological drought, so studies need to be done to find out the magnitude of meteorological factors that support forest fires and the extent of burning areas. This research was conducted by analyzing the results of meteorological observations obtained from AWS (Automatic Weather Station) installed not far from the slopes of Mount Merbabu, including AWS Pakem Yogyakarta, AWS Borobudur Magelang, AWS Undip Semarang. In addition to the analysis of surface observation data, this study also analyzes the atmospheric conditions of surface wind maps, Rainy Days, and observations of satellite images during the occurrence of land and forest fires in Mount Merbabu National Park.</p><p class="KeywordsEngish"><strong>Abstrak:</strong> Terjadi kebakaran lahan dan hutan Taman Nasional Gunung Merbabu di Kabupaten Semarang, Jawa Tengah. Api membakar lahan pada Minggu 14 Oktober 2018 sore, luas lahan di kawasan hutan Gunung Merbabu yang terbakar mencapai 100 hektar. Jumlah itu diprediksi bertambah karena kobaran api belum berhasil dipadamkan. Kebakaran di Taman Nasional Gunung Merbabu tidak hanya merusak ekosistem hutan. Kebakaran juga memutuskan jaringan pipa air bersih yang mengalir ke sejumlah dusun di Desa Batur. Kebakaran lahan dan hutan tersebut didukung oleh faktor kekeringan meteorologi, sehingga perlu dilakukan kajian untuk mengetahui besarnya faktor meteorologi yang mendukung terjadinya kebakaran hutan serta meluasnya area yang terbakar. Penelitian ini dilakukan dengan analisis hasil pengamatan meteorologi yang didapatkan dari AWS <em>(Automatic Weather Station) </em>yang terpasang tidak jauh dari lereng Gunung Merbabu, antara lain AWS Pakem Yogyakarta, AWS Borobudur Magelang, AWS Undip Semarang. Selain analisis dari data hasil pengamatan permukaan, penelitian ini juga melakukan analisis kondisi atmosfer peta angin permukaan, Hari Tanpa Hujan, serta pantauan citra satelit saat terjadinya kebakaran lahan dan hutan di Taman Nasional Gunung Merbabu.</p>

The study was to analyze the management of library services in uin mount djati bandung. The study USES a qualitative approach with a descriptive analysis method. Data collection techniques with participative observations, structured and unstructured interviews, and documentary studies. The analysis of the data in this study is done in three ways: data unitation, data categorization, and data interpretation. The search for library services management research found in mount dteal bandung shows that: 1) there are 11 types of service procedures; 2) service time on site for the update by 54 hours per week and online services can be obtained 24 hours nonstop via web and library applications; 3) services requiring an fee in the library, between which: a) the photoshop service, of rp500, rupiah/ page, b) the post - based member card service (lost) of rp100,000, d) 4) items for library services: a) physical products such as: a quick response code (QRC) visitors' lists, multi-purpose station (MPS), identification (rfid) of body technology (rfid), book drop machine; B) non - physical product: web based and application; 5) library facilities and infrastructure covered by the requirements for library accreditation, So the central library of uin msan bandung falls in the highest category (a); 6) the competence of library service officers according to competence standards based on Indonesian national performance standards, including general standards, content standards, and special standards.

Abstract Cotton was planted on 12 May in 38-inch rows at the Upper Coastal Plain Research Station near Rocky Mount in central North Carolina. The fertility and herbicide programs followed extension recommendations for cotton in this region. Temik at 5.0 lb (AI)/acre was used at planting. Plot size was 50 ft X 6 rows with 4 replications arranged in a RCBD. Insecticide applications were applied on 22 Aug with a backpack-type, CO2-pressurized sprayer calibrated to deliver 8.0 gpa at 50 psi with a single TX-8 Spray Systems nozzle 18 inches over the row. All treatments were evaluated for fruit damage and live caterpillars on 2 and 29 Sep by examining 25 squares and bolls per replicate (total 100 per treatment). Plots were harvested from the middle 2 rows with a 2-row John Deere picker on 23 Oct. Seed cotton yields were converted to lint cotton/acre using 40% gin turnout. All data were analyzed by ANOVA and DMRT.

AbstractThe seasonal variability of strong afternoon winds in a northern Himalayan valley and their relationship with the synoptic circulation were examined using in situ meteorological data from March 2006 to February 2007 and numerical simulations. Meteorological observations were focused on the lower Rongbuk valley, on the north side of the Himalayas (4270 m MSL), where a wind profile radar was available. In the monsoon season (21 May–4 October), the strong afternoon wind was southeasterly, whereas it was southwesterly in the nonmonsoon season. Numerical simulations were performed using the Weather Research and Forecasting Model to investigate the mechanism causing these afternoon strong winds. The study found that during the nonmonsoon season the strong winds are produced by downward momentum transport from the westerly winds aloft, whereas those during the monsoon season are driven by the inflow into the Arun Valley east of Mount Everest. The air in the Arun Valley was found to be colder than that of the surroundings during the daytime, and there was a horizontal pressure gradient from the Arun Valley to Qomolangma Station (QOMS), China Academy of Sciences, at the 5200-m level. This explains the formation of the strong afternoon southeasterly wind over QOMS in the monsoon season. In the nonmonsoon season, the colder air from Arun Valley is confined below the ridge by westerly winds associated with the subtropical jet.

The springs of Aravissos gush out at the south foot of mount Paiko. The water resources of these springs are used mainly for covering the necessities of the city of Thessaloniki. For this purpose Thessaloniki Water Supply & Sewerage Company (ΕΥΑΘ) constructed, two decades ago, the pumping-station of Aravissos. This paper presents the results of the research conducted for the study of the recharge - operation mechanism of the springs and the potential of the water supplying aquifer. For the study of the recharge - operation mechanism of the springs we evaluated data coming from the extensive drilling programs conducted in the area and from the substantial bibliographical references. Respectively, for the study of the water supply potential of the aquifer we evaluated the data coming from gradual pumping of the pumping-station's drillings and from the flow measurements of the spring gushing out at the study area. The contribution of this study on the management of the water supplies of the karstic aquifer of Aravissos can become determi natively important.

AbstractThere has been a dramatic increase in astronomical research output in New Zealand over the last decade. This is set to increase with the advent of a number of new pieces of astronomical hardware over the last five years. These include the 1m telescope and associated instrumentation at Mount John and the JANZOS collaboration, with its instrumentation on Black Birch. Black Birch is also the site of the US Naval Observatory’s southern hemisphere astrometric station, where, using a transit circle instrument, they are collecting data which will form part of the International Reference Star Catalogue. As well as these ‘professional’ programs there is also a large network of amateur astronomers, who can provide extremely useful input into certain astronomical programs at the various observatories around the country and the world.A brief overview of the existing New Zealand astronomical scene will be followed by discussion of a number of new initiatives being proposed, which includes an automatic patrol telescope being developed by Carter Observatory, an expansion of the JANZOS collaboration and initial discussion about the possibility of an eastern arm for the Australia Telescope some where in New Zealand. In addition, for programs which require a long timebase of observations, extreme southerly latitudes or longitudinal coverage, New Zealand could provide a unique opportunity.

Abstract The Hebrew calendar is a lunisolar calendar. Its months are based on the revolution of the moon about the Earth, as it is said: This is the burnt offering of every new moon throughout the months of the year1 (Num. 28:14) At the present time the moment of the true new moon is approximated mathematically. However during the Second Temple period, the beginning of the new lunar month had to be observed and certified by witnesses. Then the Sanhedrin Court was to make a public proclamation on the first day of the lunar month (ראש חודש). In Mishnah, Tractate Rosh Hashana, Chapter 2 describes the process of communicating the information about the beginning of new month through the chain of beacon fires: “From the Mount of Olives to Sartaba, and from Sartaba to Grofina, and from Grofina to Hauran, and from Hauran to Bet Biltin. From Bet Biltin they did not move, but rather waved back and forth and up and down until he saw the whole of the diaspora before him lit up like one bonfire.”2 Questioning of reliability of the quoted above description, its completeness and exclusiveness of the delineated in the Mishnah route is beyond the scope of the presented research. In this article we’ll apply methods of the geographic information systems (GIS) analysis in order to examine the existed theories regarding localization of Sartaba - the second mentioned station in the chain of beacon fires, reveal their discrepancies and propose an innovative, albeit rather technical, solution for long-known problem.

Abstract. In many Mediterranean mountain regions, the seasonal snowpack is an essential yet poorly known water resource. Here, we examine, for the first time, the spatial distribution and evolution of the snow water equivalent (SWE) during three snow seasons (2013–2016) in the coastal mountains of Lebanon. We run SnowModel (Liston and Elder, 2006a), a spatially distributed, process-based snow model, at 100 m resolution forced by new automatic weather station (AWS) data in three snow-dominated basins of Mount Lebanon. We evaluate a recent upgrade of the liquid water percolation scheme in SnowModel, which was introduced to improve the simulation of the SWE and runoff in warm maritime regions. The model is evaluated against continuous snow depth and snow albedo observations at the AWS, manual SWE measurements, and MODIS snow cover area between 1200 and 3000 m a.s.l. The results show that the new percolation scheme yields better performance, especially in terms of SWE but also in snow depth and snow cover area. Over the simulation period between 2013 and 2016, the maximum snow mass was reached between December and March. Peak mean SWE (above 1200 m a.s.l.) changed significantly from year to year in the three study catchments, with values ranging between 73 and 286 mm w.e. (RMSE between 160 and 260 mm w.e.). We suggest that the major sources of uncertainty in simulating the SWE, in this warm Mediterranean climate, can be attributed to forcing error but also to our limited understanding of the separation between rain and snow at lower-elevations, the transient snowmelt events during the accumulation season, and the high variability of snow depth patterns at the subpixel scale due to the wind-driven blown-snow redistribution into karstic features and sinkholes. Yet, the use of a process-based snow model with minimal requirements for parameter estimation provides a basis to simulate snow mass SWE in nonmonitored catchments and characterize the contribution of snowmelt to the karstic groundwater recharge in Lebanon. While this research focused on three basins in the Mount Lebanon, it serves as a case study to highlight the importance of wet snow processes to estimate SWE in Mediterranean mountain regions.

Rohida police station recovered an old sculpture, accidentally discovered from the cemetery of Bharja/Bhaja village. It is a broken bronze Buddhist Idol and very rare sculpture. It has exquisite Antique beauty with rust in red and corrosion in green. Sculpture of Buddha seated in Padma Asana (lotus posture) and his hand in Dhyan Mudra (meditation posture). Buddha is wearing the robe; the robe is decorated with the scene of Buddhacharita story, superimposed on the visible crust. This Sirohi district has the history of Jainism and Hinduism only, till the date there is no evidence regarding Buddhism practices in Sirohi district of Rajasthan. Sirohi is famous from its silk route in the valley, ancient Chandrawati city and Mount Abu, where thousands of temples of Jainism and Shivanism were built. Objective: what were the technique and technology used to manufacture sculpture? Where this artefact came from? What are the main characteristics & features of this sculpture? What carving scene depicted in this sculpture? Research analysis: For analysis of this sculpture we carefully look sculpture and magnify scene to compare with the stories of Buddhacharita. Moreover, check out that this sculpture is indigenous work of ancestral craftsmen or not. Also compare superimposed stories of Buddha and his life. Scientific method: Buddha sculpture is hollow in nature but very heavy in weight; Craftsman used the lost wax method to manufacture it. In ancient time the science behind manufacturing sculpture is very time consuming, first sculptors need to imagine about the subject, draft and then mould through melting, condensing, chiselling, hammering and exquisite carving. One of the oldest methods of metal casting according to Archaeo-metallurgy is bee wax method; this technique is now termed as the lost wax method. Conclusion: In the end, we like to conclude that in the history of Sirohi exploration, first time unearths the Buddhist sculpture but we have certain doubts that it mustn’t belong to Sirohi district. This idol is required for further critical research like dating and detailed mould-casting technique used in the manufacturing of this sculpture.

Abstrak: Makrofauna tanah merupakan bagian dari biodiversitas tanah yang memiliki peran penting dalam perbaikan sifat fisik, kimiawi, dan biologi tanah melalui proses imobilisasi dan humifikasi. Desa Losari merupakan salah satu desa di Kecamatan sumowono Kabupaten semarang yang terletak di kaki Gunung Ungaran sehingga keadaannya masih asri dan alami. Penelitian ini dilakukan pada Bulan Juli 2020. Tujuan penelitian ini adalah untuk mengetahui bagaimana tingkat keanekaragaman jenis makrofauna tanah yang ada di kawasan lahan pertanian Desa Losari dengan tanaman yang berbeda. Pengambilan data dilakukan dengan dua metode yaitu Pit fall trap dan Hand sorting. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa tingkat keanekaragaman jenis di lokasi penelitian tergolong rendah. Total makrofauna tanah yang tercatat di lokasi penelitian sebanyak 37 jenis yang terdiri dari 3 filum. Lahan pertanian tanaman kubis (stasiun I) memiliki tingkat keanekaragaman yang tertinggi dibandingkan dengan stasiun lainnya dengan nilai H' = 1,064. Filum dengan jumlah terbanyak di lokasi penelitian adalah filum Arthropoda sebanyak 33 jenis dari 98 total jenis makrofauna tanah yang telah ditemukan.Kata Kunci: keanekaragaman makrofauna tanah; hortikultura; pit fall trap; hand sorting.Abstract: Soil macrofauna is part of soil biodiversity which has an important role in improving the physical, chemical, and biological properties of soil through immobilization and humification processes. Losari Village is one of the villages in Sumowono District, Semarang Regency, which is located at the foot of Mount Ungaran so that the condition is still beautiful and natural. This research was conducted in July 2020. The purpose of this study was to determine the level of diversity of soil macrofauna species in the agricultural area of Losari Village with different plants. Data were collected by two methods, namely Pit fall trap and Hand sorting. The results showed that the level of species diversity in the study location was low. The total soil macrofauna recorded at the research location were 37 species consisting of 3 phyla. Cabbage farming land (station I) has the highest level of diversity compared to other stations with a value of H' = 1.064. The phylum with the highest number in the research location was Arthropoda phylum with 33 of the 98 total soil macrofauna species that had been found.Keywords: soil macrofauna diversity; horticulture; pit fall trap; hand sorting.

PENENTUAN LOKASI PERGERAKAN MAGMA GUNUNG API SOPUTAN BERDASARKAN STUDI SEBARAN HIPOSENTER GEMPA VULKANIK PERIODE MEI 2013 – MEI 2014 ABSTRAK Gunung api Soputan merupakan gunungapi type strato yang aktif hingga saat ini. Aktifitasnya diduga dimulai pada masa plistosen bawah (kurang lebih 1,8 juta tahun yang lalu). Gempa vulkanik merupakan gempa yang terjadi akibat aktivitas gunungapi. Hal ini disebabkan oleh pergerakan magma ke atas di dalam gunungapi. Penelitian ini bertujuan untuk mengetahui letak hiposenter gempa vulkanik serta mengetahui letak pergerakan magma Gunung Soputan. Prinsip dari penelitian ini dilakukan dengan menganalisis data gempa vulkanik periode Mei 2013 – Mei 2014 yang berupa data sekunder dari hasil rekaman (seismogram) Gunung Soputan pada 3 stasiun seismometer yaitu stasiun Aesoput, Winorangian, dan Silian. Data gempa diolah dengan menggunakan software seismologi yang ada. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa distribusi hiposenter gempa vulkanik Gunungapi Soputan menyebar pada daerah kubah lava dan cenderung kearah barat laut, dengan kedalaman 100 m –– 8000 m di bawah kubah lava. Dari hasil analisa hiposenter diketahui terjadi pergerakan magma oleh gempa vulkanik dalam (VA), hal ini disebabkan posisi hiposenter yang naik menuju kubah lava. Kata Kunci: Gunung Soputan, Hiposenter, dan Pergerakan Magma ABSTRACT Soputan volcano is strato volcano that active till today. Its activity supposed began at down Pleistocene (1,8 million years ago). Volcanic earthquake is one of matter that caused by volcano. This happened because magmatic movement inside volcano. This research aimed to know location of hypocenter also to know location of magmatic movement Soputan volcano. Principles from this researchis conducted by analyzing volcanic earthquake data at May 2013 to May 2014 that consist secondary data from recording data (seismogram) volcano Soputan on 3 stations seismometer are Aesoput station, Winorangian, and Silian. The earthquake data processed using seismologic software. Result researchis shows that distribution of hypocenter volcanic earthquake soputan volcano scattered at lava dome area and inclined to northwest, that located on depth 100 m to 8000 m from lava dome. Result from hipocenter analyse to find a magmatic movement by deep volcanic earthquake (VA), this happened because position of hypocenter up movement to lava dome. Keywords: Mount Soputan, Hipocenter, and Magmatic Movement

Pengamatan kualitas air di Waduk Cirata (luas: 6.200 ha, rata-rata kedalaman (z):34,9 m, dan ketinggian 225 m dpl) dilakukan mulai bulan Maret sampai dengan Desember 2006. Penelitian ini bertujuan untuk mengetahui kondisi lingkungan perairan Waduk Cirata dalam mendukung kegiatan perikanan. Penelitian dilakukan dengan metode survei dan pengambilan contoh air menggunakan kemmerer bottle sampler” Pengambilan contoh air dilakukan di 6 stasiun pengamatan dengan kedalaman 0,5; 2; 4,5; dan 8 m serta dasar perairan. Dari hasil pengamatan yang di peroleh selama penelitian menunjukkan bahwa kualitas air diWaduk Cirata cukup mendukung untuk kegiatan perikanan tangkap, seperti suhu berkisar antara 27,1 - 31,5°C, pH 6,5 - 8,5, O2 terlarut 0,44 - 4,72 mg per L, CO2 0 - 11,48 mg per L, N-NO2 0 - 0,259 mg per L, N-NO3 0,054 - 9,841 mg per L, NH4 0,0171 - 3,351 mg per L, NH3 0 - 3,17 mg per L, PO4 0,024 - 7,154 mg per L, dan total bahan organik 0 - 27,2 mg per L. Berdasarkan pada hasil dari analisis konsentrasi oksigen terlarut telah mengalami stratifikasi, dan klasifikasi tingkat kesuburan perairan berdasarkan pada konsentrasi fosfat, perairan ini sudah mencapai tingkat eutrofik dan hipereutrofik. Hal tersebut, berarti usaha pengembangan budi daya ikan dalam karamba jaring apung telah melebihi daya dukung perairan dan cenderung telah mencemari perairan. Observation of water quality was done in Cirata Reservoir (area: 6,200 ha, dept mean (z):34.9 m, and altitude 225 m above sea level) from March to December 2006. This research aimed to know the condition of water environment of Cirata Reservoir to support fisheries activities. The research was done using method of survey. Water samples was collected using kemmerer bottle sampler in 6 station sites at a depth of 0.5; 2; 4.5; 8 m and bottom water, respectively. The result indicated that the water quality of Cirata Reservoir was good enough for supporting t fisheries activities, namely water temperature 27.1 - 31.5°C, pH 6.5 to 8.5, DO 0.44- 4.72 mg per L, free CO2 0 - 11.48 mg per L, N-NO2 0 - 0.259 mg per L, N-NO3 0.054 - 9.841 mg per L, NH4: 0.0171 - 3.351 mg per L, NH3 0 - 3.17 mg per L, PO4 0.024 - 7.154 mg per L, organics materials 0 - 27.2 mg per L. Dissolved oxygen concentration stratification was observed, and classification mount fertility of territorial water of its phosphate concentration, this territorial water have reached storey; level of eutrofik and hipereutrofik. The mentioned mean the effort development of fish conducting in net keramba float have exceeded energy support territorial water and tend to have contaminated territorial water.

STRUKTUR DAN KOMPOSISI FITOPLANKTON DI BAGIAN TENGAH DAN HILIR SUNGAI SALUESEM - SULAWESI UTARA ABSTRAK Sungai Saluesem berasal dari Gunung Mahawu melintasi Kota Manado sebelum bermuara di Teluk Manado, Sulwesi Utara. Penelitian dilakukan di bagian tengah dan hilir Sungai Salueseum, Sulawesi Utara dari April hingga November 2014. Penelitian ini bertujuan untuk menganalis ke struktur dan komposisi fitoplankton di bagian tengah dan hilir Sungai Saluesem, Sulawesi Utara. Penelitian menggunakan metode purposive random sampling untuk menentukan lokasi penelitian. Dua stasiun penelitian disebarkan di tiap bagian sungai. Sebanyak tiga ulangan dilakukan di tiap stasiun. Total banyaknya sampel yaitu dua belas (2x2x3) sampel yang diperoleh dengan plankton net ukuran 30 mesh. Hasil penelitian menunjukkan bahwa fitoplankton yang didapatkan di bagian tengah Sungai Saluesem sebanyak 399 individu, 28 spesies dan 3 kelas. Fitoplankton yang didapatkan di bagian hilir Sungai Saluesem sebanyak 913 individu, 26 spesies dan 4 kelas. Kelas fitoplankton yaitu Bacillariophyceae, Chlorophyceae dan Cyanophyceae dan Euglenophyceae. Kelas Bacillariophyceae merupakan kelas yang memiliki kepadatan tertinggi di bagian tengah dan hilir berturut-turut yaitu 4067 individu/m3 (81%) dan 14950 individu/m3 (95%). Indeks keanekaragaman di bagian tengah dan hilir termasuk keanekaragaman sedang dengan nilai H’ bagian tengah (H’: 2,88) dan hilir (H’: 2,64). Distribusi species fitolankton di bagian tengah dan hilir merata dengan Indeks Kemerataan (E) berturut-turut yaitu 0,87 dan 0,81. Tidak ada species fitoplankton di bagian tengah yang mendominansi dengan nilai Indeks Dominansi (D) mendekati nol (0,222). Beberapa species fitoplankton di bagian hilir mendominansi dengan nilai Indeks D mendekati satu (0,544). Kualitas air Sungai Saluseum di bagian tengah dan hilir dikategorikan tercemar ringan. Kata kunci : Sungai Saluesem, struktur fitoplankton, komposisi fitoplankton, kualitas air, Sulawesi Utara. STRUCTURE AND COMPOSITION OF PHYTOPLANKTON OF MIDDLE AND DOWNSTREAM SALUESEUM RIVER, NORTH SULAWESI ABSTRACT Saluesem River originated from Mahawu Mount crosses the Manado City before down to Manado Bay, North Sulwesi. The study was conducted in the middle and lower part of Salueseum River, North Sulawesi from April to November 2014. This study aims to analyze the structure and composition of the phytoplankton at the middle and lower part of the River Saluesem, North Sulawesi. Research used purposive random sampling to choose researc locations. Two research stations were distributed in each part of the river. A total of three replications performed at each station. The total number of samples that were twelve (2x2x3) samples by plankton net 30 mesh. The results showed that phytoplankton at the middle as 399 individuals, 28 species and 3 classes. Phytoplankton were at down as 913 individuals, 26 species and 4 classes i.e. Bacillariophyceae, Chlorophyceae and Cyanophyceae and Euglenophyceae. Bacillariophyceae has the highest density at the middle and downstream respectively were 4067 individuals/m3 (81%) and 14950 individuals/m3 (95%). Diversity index (H’) at middle and downstream were classified into middle diversity with index respectively 2.88 and 2.64. Evenness index (E) at middle and down respectively were 0.87 and 0.81 showed that phytoplankton distributed equally. Some species at middle were dominant (D:0.222) but not at downstream (D: 0,544). Water quality of middle and downstream Saluseum River were classified into light pollution. Keyword: Saluesem River, structure phytoplankton, composition phytoplankton, water quality, North Sulawesi.

Butterflies are insects that must be preserved because of their role in balancing ecosystems. The purpose of this study is to know the diversity of butterflies in Mount Bromo FSAP. This research was conducted in May-August 2019. The observation site consisted of four stations, i.e. heterogeneous forest, cultivation field, sonokeling forest, and pine forest. Observation in each station was replicated three times. Time research was applied by making a 200m x 100m plot area in each station. Abiotic factors including humidity, temperature, light intensity, and wind speed were also measured in each station. Several ecological indices of butterflies were determined, including Shannon-Wiener Diversity Index (H'), Evenness Index (E), and Dominance Index (C). They were analyzed descriptively and associated with the nectar plants and abiotic factors. The result showed there are 42 species butterflies belong to five families in Mount Bromo FSAP. The butterfly diversity index is 2.78 or medium category with details 2.38, 2.50, 2.52, and 2.23 for the heterogeneous forest, cultivation field, pine forest, and sonokeling forest respectively. The diversity of butterflies is determined by the number of nectar plant, and abiotic factors suitable for butterfly activity.

This paper will comprehensively discuss the stratigraphy of the Kendeng Zone by using geological field mapping and laboratory analysis. The research area located in the Miyono Village and surrounding areas, Sekar District, Bojonegoro Regency, East Java with an area of 4x5 km2. Based on the geological mapping results obtained 160 points station with a variety of results in the form of tracking map of the research area. Laboratory analysis uses Embry and Klovan classification (1971), Pettijohn et al. (1987), and Mount (1985) for petrographic analysis, while paleontological analysis using Manual of Planktonic Foraminifera (Postuma, 1971) and Atlas of Benthic Foraminifera (Holbourn et al., 2013). This paper will show the differences between regional stratigraphy and the result, depositional environment, and its mechanism. Lithology units found grouping into nine units. The research area epoch ranged between N18-N23 (early Pliocene - Holocene) and the depositional environment from the lower bathyal to the terrestrial. The geological structures of the research area must be considered in the stratigraphic arrangement determination. Based on the analysis, the Kendeng Zone stratigraphic column was obtained and expected to provide accurate data of Kendeng Zone specifically around Miyono area.

Special Care Notice This article contains images of deceased people that might cause sadness or distress to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander readers. Introduction Like many cities, Perth was founded on wetlands that have been integral to its history and culture (Seddon 226–32). However, in order to promote a settlement agenda, early mapmakers sought to erase the city’s wetlands from cartographic depictions (Giblett, Cities). Since the colonial era, inner-Perth’s swamps and lakes have been drained, filled, significantly reduced in size, or otherwise reclaimed for urban expansion (Bekle). Not only have the swamps and lakes physically disappeared, the memories of their presence and influence on the city’s development over time are also largely forgotten. What was the site of Perth, specifically its wetlands, like before British settlement? In 2014, an interdisciplinary team at Edith Cowan University developed a digital visualisation process to re-imagine Perth prior to colonisation. This was based on early maps of the Swan River Colony and a range of archival information. The images depicted the city’s topography, hydrology, and vegetation and became the centerpiece of a physical exhibition entitled Re-imagining Perth’s Lost Wetlands and a virtual exhibition hosted by the Western Australian Museum. Alongside historic maps, paintings, photographs, and writings, the visual reconstruction of Perth aimed to foster appreciation of the pre-settlement environment—the homeland of the Whadjuck Nyoongar, or Bibbulmun, people (Carter and Nutter). The exhibition included the narrative of Fanny Balbuk, a Nyoongar woman who voiced her indignation over the “usurping of her beloved home ground” (Bates, The Passing 69) by flouting property lines and walking through private residences to reach places of cultural significance. Beginning with Balbuk’s story and the digital tracing of her walking route through colonial Perth, this article discusses the project in the context of contemporary pressures on the city’s extant wetlands. The re-imagining of Perth through historically, culturally, and geographically-grounded digital visualisation approaches can inspire the conservation of its wetlands heritage. Balbuk’s Walk through the City For many who grew up in Perth, Fanny Balbuk’s perambulations have achieved legendary status in the collective cultural imagination. In his memoir, David Whish-Wilson mentions Balbuk’s defiant walks and the lighting up of the city for astronaut John Glenn in 1962 as the two stories that had the most impact on his Perth childhood. From Gordon Stephenson House, Whish-Wilson visualises her journey in his mind’s eye, past Government House on St Georges Terrace (the main thoroughfare through the city centre), then north on Barrack Street towards the railway station, the site of Lake Kingsford where Balbuk once gathered bush tucker (4). He considers the footpaths “beneath the geometric frame of the modern city […] worn smooth over millennia that snake up through the sheoak and marri woodland and into the city’s heart” (Whish-Wilson 4). Balbuk’s story embodies the intertwined culture and nature of Perth—a city of wetlands. Born in 1840 on Heirisson Island, Balbuk (also known as Yooreel) (Figure 1) had ancestral bonds to the urban landscape. According to Daisy Bates, writing in the early 1900s, the Nyoongar term Matagarup, or “leg deep,” denotes the passage of shallow water near Heirisson Island where Balbuk would have forded the Swan River (“Oldest” 16). Yoonderup was recorded as the Nyoongar name for Heirisson Island (Bates, “Oldest” 16) and the birthplace of Balbuk’s mother (Bates, “Aboriginal”). In the suburb of Shenton Park near present-day Lake Jualbup, her father bequeathed to her a red ochre (or wilgi) pit that she guarded fervently throughout her life (Bates, “Aboriginal”).Figure 1. Group of Aboriginal Women at Perth, including Fanny Balbuk (far right) (c. 1900). Image Credit: State Library of Western Australia (Image Number: 44c). Balbuk’s grandparents were culturally linked to the site. At his favourite camp beside the freshwater spring near Kings Park on Mounts Bay Road, her grandfather witnessed the arrival of Lieutenant-Colonel Frederick Irwin, cousin of James Stirling (Bates, “Fanny”). In 1879, colonial entrepreneurs established the Swan Brewery at this significant locale (Welborn). Her grandmother’s gravesite later became Government House (Bates, “Fanny”) and she protested vociferously outside “the stone gates guarded by a sentry [that] enclosed her grandmother’s burial ground” (Bates, The Passing 70). Balbuk’s other grandmother was buried beneath Bishop’s Grove, the residence of the city’s first archibishop, now Terrace Hotel (Bates, “Aboriginal”). Historian Bob Reece observes that Balbuk was “the last full-descent woman of Kar’gatta (Karrakatta), the Bibbulmun name for the Mount Eliza [Kings Park] area of Perth” (134). According to accounts drawn from Bates, her home ground traversed the area between Heirisson Island and Perth’s north-western limits. In Kings Park, one of her relatives was buried near a large, hollow tree used by Nyoongar people like a cistern to capture water and which later became the site of the Queen Victoria Statue (Bates, “Aboriginal”). On the slopes of Mount Eliza, the highest point of Kings Park, at the western end of St Georges Terrace, she harvested plant foods, including zamia fruits (Macrozamia riedlei) (Bates, “Fanny”). Fanny Balbuk’s knowledge contributed to the native title claim lodged by Nyoongar people in 2006 as Bennell v. State of Western Australia—the first of its kind to acknowledge Aboriginal land rights in a capital city and part of the larger Single Nyoongar Claim (South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council et al.). Perth’s colonial administration perceived the city’s wetlands as impediments to progress and as insalubrious environments to be eradicated through reclamation practices. For Balbuk and other Nyoongar people, however, wetlands were “nourishing terrains” (Rose) that afforded sustenance seasonally and meaning perpetually (O’Connor, Quartermaine, and Bodney). Mary Graham, a Kombu-merri elder from Queensland, articulates the connection between land and culture, “because land is sacred and must be looked after, the relation between people and land becomes the template for society and social relations. Therefore all meaning comes from land.” Traditional, embodied reliance on Perth’s wetlands is evident in Bates’ documentation. For instance, Boojoormeup was a “big swamp full of all kinds of food, now turned into Palmerston and Lake streets” (Bates, “Aboriginal”). Considering her cultural values, Balbuk’s determination to maintain pathways through the increasingly colonial Perth environment is unsurprising (Figure 2). From Heirisson Island: a straight track had led to the place where once she had gathered jilgies [crayfish] and vegetable food with the women, in the swamp where Perth railway station now stands. Through fences and over them, Balbuk took the straight track to the end. When a house was built in the way, she broke its fence-palings with her digging stick and charged up the steps and through the rooms. (Bates, The Passing 70) One obstacle was Hooper’s Fence, which Balbuk broke repeatedly on her trips to areas between Kings Park and the railway station (Bates, “Hooper’s”). Her tenacious commitment to walking ancestral routes signifies the friction between settlement infrastructure and traditional Nyoongar livelihood during an era of rapid change. Figure 2. Determination of Fanny Balbuk’s Journey between Yoonderup (Heirisson Island) and Lake Kingsford, traversing what is now the central business district of Perth on the Swan River (2014). Image background prepared by Dimitri Fotev. Track interpolation by Jeff Murray. Project Background and Approach Inspired by Fanny Balbuk’s story, Re-imagining Perth’s Lost Wetlands began as an Australian response to the Mannahatta Project. Founded in 1999, that project used spatial analysis techniques and mapping software to visualise New York’s urbanised Manhattan Island—or Mannahatta as it was called by indigenous people—in the early 1600s (Sanderson). Based on research into the island’s original biogeography and the ecological practices of Native Americans, Mannahatta enabled the public to “peel back” the city’s strata, revealing the original composition of the New York site. The layers of visuals included rich details about the island’s landforms, water systems, and vegetation. Mannahatta compelled Rod Giblett, a cultural researcher at Edith Cowan University, to develop an analogous model for visualising Perth circa 1829. The idea attracted support from the City of Perth, Landgate, and the University. Using stories, artefacts, and maps, the team—comprising a cartographer, designer, three-dimensional modelling expert, and historical researchers—set out to generate visualisations of the landscape at the time of British colonisation. Nyoongar elder Noel Nannup approved culturally sensitive material and contributed his perspective on Aboriginal content to include in the exhibition. The initiative’s context remains pressing. In many ways, Perth has become a template for development in the metropolitan area (Weller). While not unusual for a capital, the rate of transformation is perhaps unexpected in a city less than 200 years old (Forster). There also remains a persistent view of existing wetlands as obstructions to progress that, once removed, are soon forgotten (Urban Bushland Council). Digital visualisation can contribute to appreciating environments prior to colonisation but also to re-imagining possibilities for future human interactions with land, water, and space. Despite the rapid pace of change, many Perth area residents have memories of wetlands lost during their lifetimes (for example, Giblett, Forrestdale). However, as the clearing and drainage of the inner city occurred early in settlement, recollections of urban wetlands exist exclusively in historical records. In 1935, a local correspondent using the name “Sandgroper” reminisced about swamps, connecting them to Perth’s colonial heritage: But the Swamps were very real in fact, and in name in the [eighteen-] Nineties, and the Perth of my youth cannot be visualised without them. They were, of course, drying up apace, but they were swamps for all that, and they linked us directly with the earliest days of the Colony when our great-grandparents had founded this City of Perth on a sort of hog's-back, of which Hay-street was the ridge, and from which a succession of streamlets ran down its southern slope to the river, while land locked to the north of it lay a series of lakes which have long since been filled to and built over so that the only evidence that they have ever existed lies in the original street plans of Perth prepared by Roe and Hillman in the early eighteen-thirties. A salient consequence of the loss of ecological memory is the tendency to repeat the miscues of the past, especially the blatant disregard for natural and cultural heritage, as suburbanisation engulfs the area. While the swamps of inner Perth remain only in the names of streets, existing wetlands in the metropolitan area are still being threatened, as the Roe Highway (Roe 8) Campaign demonstrates. To re-imagine Perth’s lost landscape, we used several colonial survey maps to plot the location of the original lakes and swamps. At this time, a series of interconnecting waterbodies, known as the Perth Great Lakes, spread across the north of the city (Bekle and Gentilli). This phase required the earliest cartographic sources (Figure 3) because, by 1855, city maps no longer depicted wetlands. We synthesised contextual information, such as well depths, geological and botanical maps, settlers’ accounts, Nyoongar oral histories, and colonial-era artists’ impressions, to produce renderings of Perth. This diverse collection of primary and secondary materials served as the basis for creating new images of the city. Team member Jeff Murray interpolated Balbuk’s route using historical mappings and accounts, topographical data, court records, and cartographic common sense. He determined that Balbuk would have camped on the high ground of the southern part of Lake Kingsford rather than the more inundated northern part (Figure 2). Furthermore, she would have followed a reasonably direct course north of St Georges Terrace (contrary to David Whish-Wilson’s imaginings) because she was barred from Government House for protesting. This easier route would have also avoided the springs and gullies that appear on early maps of Perth. Figure 3. Townsite of Perth in Western Australia by Colonial Draftsman A. Hillman and John Septimus Roe (1838). This map of Perth depicts the wetlands that existed overlaid by the geomentric grid of the new city. Image Credit: State Library of Western Australia (Image Number: BA1961/14). Additionally, we produced an animated display based on aerial photographs to show the historical extent of change. Prompted by the build up to World War II, the earliest aerial photography of Perth dates from the late 1930s (Dixon 148–54). As “Sandgroper” noted, by this time, most of the urban wetlands had been drained or substantially modified. The animation revealed considerable alterations to the formerly swampy Swan River shoreline. Most prominent was the transformation of the Matagarup shallows across the Swan River, originally consisting of small islands. Now traversed by a causeway, this area was transformed into a single island, Heirisson—the general site of Balbuk’s birth. The animation and accompanying materials (maps, images, and writings) enabled viewers to apprehend the changes in real time and to imagine what the city was once like. Re-imagining Perth’s Urban Heart The physical environment of inner Perth includes virtually no trace of its wetland origins. Consequently, we considered whether a representation of Perth, as it existed previously, could enhance public understanding of natural heritage and thereby increase its value. For this reason, interpretive materials were exhibited centrally at Perth Town Hall. Built partly by convicts between 1867 and 1870, the venue is close to the site of the 1829 Foundation of Perth, depicted in George Pitt Morrison’s painting. Balbuk’s grandfather “camped somewhere in the city of Perth, not far from the Town Hall” (Bates, “Fanny”). The building lies one block from the site of the railway station on the site of Lake Kingsford, the subsistence grounds of Balbuk and her forebears: The old swamp which is now the Perth railway yards had been a favourite jilgi ground; a spring near the Town Hall had been a camping place of Maiago […] and others of her fathers' folk; and all around and about city and suburbs she had gathered roots and fished for crayfish in the days gone by. (Bates, “Derelicts” 55) Beginning in 1848, the draining of Lake Kingsford reached completion during the construction of the Town Hall. While the swamps of the city were not appreciated by many residents, some organisations, such as the Perth Town Trust, vigorously opposed the reclamation of the lake, alluding to its hydrological role: That, the soil being sand, it is not to be supposed that Lake Kingsford has in itself any material effect on the wells of Perth; but that, from this same reason of the sandy soil, it would be impossible to keep the lake dry without, by so doing, withdrawing the water from at least the adjacent parts of the townsite to the same depth. (Independent Journal of Politics and News 3) At the time of our exhibition, the Lake Kingsford site was again being reworked to sink the railway line and build Yagan Square, a public space named after a colonial-era Nyoongar leader. The project required specialised construction techniques due to the high water table—the remnants of the lake. People travelling to the exhibition by train in October 2014 could have seen the lake reasserting itself in partly-filled depressions, flush with winter rain (Figure 4).Figure 4. Rise of the Repressed (2014). Water Rising in the former site of Lake Kingsford/Irwin during construction, corner of Roe and Fitzgerald Streets, Northbridge, WA. Image Credit: Nandi Chinna (2014). The exhibition was situated in the Town Hall’s enclosed undercroft designed for markets and more recently for shops. While some visited after peering curiously through the glass walls of the undercroft, others hailed from local and state government organisations. Guest comments applauded the alternative view of Perth we presented. The content invited the public to re-imagine Perth as a city of wetlands that were both environmentally and culturally important. A display panel described how the city’s infrastructure presented a hindrance for Balbuk as she attempted to negotiate the once-familiar route between Yoonderup and Lake Kingsford (Figure 2). Perth’s growth “restricted Balbuk’s wanderings; towns, trains, and farms came through her ‘line of march’; old landmarks were thus swept away, and year after year saw her less confident of the locality of one-time familiar spots” (Bates, “Fanny”). Conserving Wetlands: From Re-Claiming to Re-Valuing? Imagination, for philosopher Roger Scruton, involves “thinking of, and attending to, a present object (by thinking of it, or perceiving it, in terms of something absent)” (155). According to Scruton, the feelings aroused through imagination can prompt creative, transformative experiences. While environmental conservation tends to rely on data-driven empirical approaches, it appeals to imagination less commonly. We have found, however, that attending to the present object (the city) in terms of something absent (its wetlands) through evocative visual material can complement traditional conservation agendas focused on habitats and species. The actual extent of wetlands loss in the Swan Coastal Plain—the flat and sandy region extending from Jurien Bay south to Cape Naturaliste, including Perth—is contested. However, estimates suggest that 80 per cent of wetlands have been lost, with remaining habitats threatened by climate change, suburban development, agriculture, and industry (Department of Environment and Conservation). As with the swamps and lakes of the inner city, many regional wetlands were cleared, drained, or filled before they could be properly documented. Additionally, the seasonal fluctuations of swampy places have never been easily translatable to two-dimensional records. As Giblett notes, the creation of cartographic representations and the assignment of English names were attempts to fix the dynamic boundaries of wetlands, at least in the minds of settlers and administrators (Postmodern 72–73). Moreover, European colonists found the Western Australian landscape, including its wetlands, generally discomfiting. In a letter from 1833, metaphors failed George Fletcher Moore, the effusive colonial commentator, “I cannot compare these swamps to any marshes with which you are familiar” (220). The intermediate nature of wetlands—as neither land nor lake—is perhaps one reason for their cultural marginalisation (Giblett, Postmodern 39). The conviction that unsanitary, miasmic wetlands should be converted to more useful purposes largely prevailed (Giblett, Black 105–22). Felicity Morel-EdnieBrown’s research into land ownership records in colonial Perth demonstrated that town lots on swampland were often preferred. By layering records using geographic information systems (GIS), she revealed modifications to town plans to accommodate swampland frontages. The decline of wetlands in the region appears to have been driven initially by their exploitation for water and later for fertile soil. Northern market gardens supplied the needs of the early city. It is likely that the depletion of Nyoongar bush foods predated the flourishing of these gardens (Carter and Nutter). Engaging with the history of Perth’s swamps raises questions about the appreciation of wetlands today. In an era where numerous conservation strategies and alternatives have been developed (for example, Bobbink et al. 93–220), the exploitation of wetlands in service to population growth persists. On Perth’s north side, wetlands have long been subdued by controlling their water levels and landscaping their boundaries, as the suburban examples of Lake Monger and Hyde Park (formerly Third Swamp Reserve) reveal. Largely unmodified wetlands, such as Forrestdale Lake, exist south of Perth, but they too are in danger (Giblett, Black Swan). The Beeliar Wetlands near the suburb of Bibra Lake comprise an interconnected series of lakes and swamps that are vulnerable to a highway extension project first proposed in the 1950s. Just as the Perth Town Trust debated Lake Kingsford’s draining, local councils and the public are fiercely contesting the construction of the Roe Highway, which will bisect Beeliar Wetlands, destroying Roe Swamp (Chinna). The conservation value of wetlands still struggles to compete with traffic planning underpinned by a modernist ideology that associates cars and freeways with progress (Gregory). Outside of archives, the debate about Lake Kingsford is almost entirely forgotten and its physical presence has been erased. Despite the magnitude of loss, re-imagining the city’s swamplands, in the way that we have, calls attention to past indiscretions while invigorating future possibilities. We hope that the re-imagining of Perth’s wetlands stimulates public respect for ancestral tracks and songlines like Balbuk’s. Despite the accretions of settler history and colonial discourse, songlines endure as a fundamental cultural heritage. Nyoongar elder Noel Nannup states, “as people, if we can get out there on our songlines, even though there may be farms or roads overlaying them, fences, whatever it is that might impede us from travelling directly upon them, if we can get close proximity, we can still keep our culture alive. That is why it is so important for us to have our songlines.” Just as Fanny Balbuk plied her songlines between Yoonderup and Lake Kingsford, the traditional custodians of Beeliar and other wetlands around Perth walk the landscape as an act of resistance and solidarity, keeping the stories of place alive. Acknowledgments The authors wish to acknowledge Rod Giblett (ECU), Nandi Chinna (ECU), Susanna Iuliano (ECU), Jeff Murray (Kareff Consulting), Dimitri Fotev (City of Perth), and Brendan McAtee (Landgate) for their contributions to this project. The authors also acknowledge the traditional custodians of the lands upon which this paper was researched and written. References Bates, Daisy. “Fanny Balbuk-Yooreel: The Last Swan River (Female) Native.” The Western Mail 1 Jun. 1907: 45.———. “Oldest Perth: The Days before the White Men Won.” The Western Mail 25 Dec. 1909: 16–17.———. “Derelicts: The Passing of the Bibbulmun.” The Western Mail 25 Dec. 1924: 55–56. ———. “Aboriginal Perth.” The Western Mail 4 Jul. 1929: 70.———. “Hooper’s Fence: A Query.” The Western Mail 18 Apr. 1935: 9.———. The Passing of the Aborigines: A Lifetime Spent among the Natives of Australia. London: John Murray, 1966.Bekle, Hugo. “The Wetlands Lost: Drainage of the Perth Lake Systems.” Western Geographer 5.1–2 (1981): 21–41.Bekle, Hugo, and Joseph Gentilli. “History of the Perth Lakes.” Early Days 10.5 (1993): 442–60.Bobbink, Roland, Boudewijn Beltman, Jos Verhoeven, and Dennis Whigham, eds. Wetlands: Functioning, Biodiversity Conservation, and Restoration. Berlin: Springer-Verlag, 2006. Carter, Bevan, and Lynda Nutter. Nyungah Land: Records of Invasion and Theft of Aboriginal Land on the Swan River 1829–1850. Guildford: Swan Valley Nyungah Community, 2005.Chinna, Nandi. “Swamp.” Griffith Review 47 (2015). 29 Sep. 2015 ‹https://griffithreview.com/articles/swamp›.Department of Environment and Conservation. Geomorphic Wetlands Swan Coastal Plain Dataset. Perth: Department of Environment and Conservation, 2008.Dixon, Robert. Photography, Early Cinema, and Colonial Modernity: Frank Hurley’s Synchronized Lecture Entertainments. London: Anthem Press, 2011. Forster, Clive. Australian Cities: Continuity and Change. Oxford: Oxford UP, 2004.Giblett, Rod. Postmodern Wetlands: Culture, History, Ecology. Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 1996. ———. Forrestdale: People and Place. Bassendean: Access Press, 2006.———. Black Swan Lake: Life of a Wetland. Bristol: Intellect, 2013.———. Cities and Wetlands: The Return of the Repressed in Nature and Culture. London: Bloomsbury, 2016. Chapter 2.Graham, Mary. “Some Thoughts about the Philosophical Underpinnings of Aboriginal Worldviews.” Australian Humanities Review 45 (2008). 29 Sep. 2015 ‹http://www.australianhumanitiesreview.org/archive/Issue-November-2008/graham.html›.Gregory, Jenny. “Remembering Mounts Bay: The Narrows Scheme and the Internationalization of Perth Planning.” Studies in Western Australian History 27 (2011): 145–66.Independent Journal of Politics and News. “Perth Town Trust.” The Perth Gazette and Independent Journal of Politics and News 8 Jul. 1848: 2–3.Moore, George Fletcher. Extracts from the Letters of George Fletcher Moore. Ed. Martin Doyle. London: Orr and Smith, 1834.Morel-EdnieBrown, Felicity. “Layered Landscape: The Swamps of Colonial Northbridge.” Social Science Computer Review 27 (2009): 390–419. Nannup, Noel. Songlines with Dr Noel Nannup. Dir. Faculty of Regional Professional Studies, Edith Cowan University (2015). 29 Sep. 2015 ‹https://vimeo.com/129198094›. (Quoted material transcribed from 3.08–3.39 of the video.) O’Connor, Rory, Gary Quartermaine, and Corrie Bodney. Report on an Investigation into Aboriginal Significance of Wetlands and Rivers in the Perth-Bunbury Region. Perth: Western Australian Water Resources Council, 1989.Reece, Bob. “‘Killing with Kindness’: Daisy Bates and New Norcia.” Aboriginal History 32 (2008): 128–45.Rose, Deborah Bird. Nourishing Terrains: Australian Aboriginal Views of Landscape and Wilderness. Canberra: Australian Heritage Commission, 1996.Sanderson, Eric. Mannahatta: A Natural History of New York City. New York: Harry N. Abrams, 2009.Sandgroper. “Gilgies: The Swamps of Perth.” The West Australian 4 May 1935: 7.Scruton, Roger. Art and Imagination. London: Methuen, 1974.Seddon, George. Sense of Place: A Response to an Environment, the Swan Coastal Plain, Western Australia. Melbourne: Bloomings Books, 2004.South West Aboriginal Land and Sea Council and John Host with Chris Owen. “It’s Still in My Heart, This is My Country:” The Single Noongar Claim History. Crawley: U of Western Australia P, 2009.Urban Bushland Council. “Bushland Issues.” 2015. 29 Sep. 2015 ‹http://www.bushlandperth.org.au/bushland-issues›.Welborn, Suzanne. Swan: The History of a Brewery. Crawley: U of Western Australia P, 1987.Weller, Richard. Boomtown 2050: Scenarios for a Rapidly Growing City. Crawley: U of Western Australia P, 2009. Whish-Wilson, David. Perth. Sydney: NewSouth Publishing, 2013.

In this article I discuss a story told by the South Australian Ngarrindjeri Aboriginal elder, Aunty Hilda Wilson (nee Varcoe), about the time when, at not quite sixteen, she was sent from the Point Pearce Aboriginal Station to work in the Adelaide Hills, some 500 kilometres away, as a housekeeper for “one of Adelaide’s leading doctors”. Her secondment was part of a widespread practice in early and mid-twentieth century Australia of placing young Aboriginal women “of marriageable age” from missions and government reserves into domestic service. Consciously deploying Indigenous storytelling practices as pedagogy, Hilda Wilson recounted this episode in a number of distinct ways during the late 1990s and early 2000s. Across these iterations, each building on the other, she exhibited a personal resilience in her subjectivity, embedded in Indigenous knowledge systems of relationality, kin and work, which informed her agency and determination in a challenging situation in which she was both caring for a white socially-privileged family of five, while simultaneously grappling with the injustices of a state system of segregated indentured labour. Kirmayer and colleagues propose that “notions of resilience emerging from developmental psychology and psychiatry in recent years address the distinctive cultures, geographic and social settings, and histories of adversity of indigenous peoples”. Resilience is understood here as an ability to actively engage with traumatic change, involving the capacity to absorb stress and to transform in order to cope with it (Luthar et al.). Further to this, in an Indigenous context, Marion Kickett has found the capacity for resilience to be supported by three key factors: family connections, culture and belonging as well as notions of identity and history. In exploring the layers of this autobiographical story, I employ this extended psychological notion of resilience in both a domestic ambit as well as the broader social context for Indigenous people surviving a system of external domination. Additionally I consider the resilience Aunty Hilda demonstrates at a pivotal interlude between girlhood and womanhood within the trajectory of her overall long and productive life, and within an intergenerational history of resistance and accommodation. What is especially important about her storytelling is its refusal to be contained by the imaginary of the settler nation and its generic Aboriginal-female subject. She refuses victimhood while at the same time illuminating the mechanisms of injustice, hinting also at possibilities for alternative and more equitable relationships of family and work across cultural divides. Considered through this prism, resilience is, I suggest, also a quality firmly connected to ideas of Aboriginal cultural-sovereignty and standpoint and to, what Victoria Grieves has identified as, the Aboriginal knowledge value of sharing (25, 28, 45). Storytelling as Pedagogy The story I discuss was verbally recounted in a manner that Westphalen describes as “a continuation of Dreaming Stories”, functioning to educate and connect people and country (13-14). As MacGill et al. note, “the critical and transformative aspects of decolonising pedagogies emerge from storytelling and involve the gift of narrative and the enactment of reciprocity that occurs between the listener and the storyteller.” Hilda told me that as a child she was taught not to ask questions when listening to the stories of an Elder, and her own children were raised in this manner. Hilda's oldest daughter described this as a process involving patience, intrigue and surprise (Elva Wanganeen). Narratives unfold through nuance and repetition in a complexity of layers that can generate multiple levels of meaning over time. Circularity and recursivity underlie this pedagogy through which mnemonic devices are built so that stories become re-membered and inscribed on the body of the listener. When a perceived level of knowledge-transference has occurred, a narrator may elect to elaborate further, adding another detail that will often transform the story’s social, cultural, moral or political context. Such carefully chosen additional detail, however, might re-contextualise all that has gone before. As well as being embodied, stories are also emplaced, and thus most appropriately told in the Country where events occurred. (Here I use the Aboriginal English term “Country” which encompasses home, clan estate, and the powerful complex of spiritual, animate and inanimate forces that bind people and place.) Hilda Wilson’s following account of her first job as a housekeeper for “one of Adelaide’s leading doctors”, Dr Frank Swann, provides an illustration of how she expertly uses traditional narrative forms of incrementally structured knowledge transmission within a cross-cultural setting to tell a story that expresses practices of resilience as resistance and transformation at its core. A “White Doctor” Story: The First Layer Aunty Hilda first told me this story when we were winding along the South Eastern Freeway through the Adelaide hills between Murray Bridge and Mount Barker, in 1997, on our way home to Adelaide from a trip to Camp Coorong, the Ngarrindjeri cultural education centre co-founded by her granddaughter. She was then 86 years old. Ahead of us, the profile of Mt Lofty rose out of the plains and into view. The highest peak in the Mount Lofty ranges, Yurrebilla, as it is known to Kaurna Aboriginal people, or Mt Lofty, has been an affluent enclave of white settlement for Adelaide’s moneyed elite since early colonial times. Being in place, or in view of place, provided the appropriate opportunity for her to tell me the story. It belongs to a group of stories that during our initial period of working together changed little over time until one day two years later she an added contextual detail which turned it inside out. Hilda described the doctor’s spacious hill-top residence, and her responsibilities of caring for Dr Swann’s invalid wife (“an hysteric who couldn't do anything for herself”), their twin teenage boys (who attended private college in the city) along with another son and younger daughter living at home (pers. com. Hilda Wilson). Recalling the exhilaration of looking down over the sparkling lights of Adelaide at night from this position of apparent “privilege” on the summit, she related this undeniably as a success story, justifiably taking great pride in her achievements as a teenager, capable of stepping into the place of the non-Indigenous doctor's wife in running the large and demanding household. Successfully undertaking a wide range of duties employed in the care of a family, including the disabled mother, she is an active participant crucial to the lives of all in the household, including to the work of the doctor and the twin boys in private education. Hilda recalled that Mrs Swann was unable to eat without her assistance. As the oldest daughter of a large family Hilda had previously assisted in caring for her younger siblings. Told in this way, her account collapses social distinctions, delineating a shared social and physical space, drawing its analytic frame from an Indigenous ethos of subjectivity, relationality, reciprocity and care. Moreover Hilda’s narrative of domestic service demonstrates an assertion of agency that resists colonial and patriarchal hegemony and inverts the master/mistress-servant relationship, one she firmly eschews in favour of the self-affirming role of the lady of the house. (It stands in contrast to the abuse found in other accounts for example Read, Tucker, Kartinyeri. Often the key difference was a continuity of family connections and ongoing family support.) Indeed the home transformed into a largely feminised and cross-culturalised space in which she had considerable agency and responsibility when the doctor was absent. Hilda told me this story several times in much the same way during our frequent encounters over the next two years. Each telling revealed further details that fleshed a perspective gained from what Patricia Hill Collins terms an “epistemic privilege” via her “outsider-within status” of working within a white household, lending an understanding of its social mechanisms (12-15). She also stressed the extent of her duty of care in upholding the family’s well-being, despite the work at times being too burdensome. The Second Version: Coming to Terms with Intersecting Oppressions Later, as our relationship developed and deepened, when I began to record her life-narrative as part of my doctoral work, she added an unexpected detail that altered its context completely: It was all right except I slept outside in a tin shed and it was very cold at night. Mount Lofty, by far the coldest part of Adelaide, frequently experiences winter maximum temperatures of two or three degrees and often light snowfalls. This skilful reframing draws on Indigenous storytelling pedagogy and is expressly used to invite reflexivity, opening questions that move the listener from the personal to the public realm in which domestic service and the hegemony of the home are pivotal in coming to terms with the overlapping historical oppressions of class, gender, race and nation. Suddenly we witness her subjectivity starkly shift from one self-defined and allied with an equal power relationship – or even of dependency reversal cast as “de-facto doctor's wife” – to one diminished by inequity and power imbalance in the outsider-defined role of “mistreated servant”. The latter was signalled by the dramatic addition of a single signifying detail as a decoding device to a deeper layer of meaning. In this parallel stratum of the story, Hilda purposefully brings into relief the politics in which “the private domain of women's housework intersected with the public domain of governmental social engineering policies” (Haskins 4). As Aileen Moreton-Robinson points out, what for White Australia was cheap labour and a civilising mission, for Indigenous women constituted stolen children and slavery. Protection and then assimilation were government policies under which Indigenous women grew up. (96) Hilda was sent away from her family to work in 1927 by the universally-feared Sister Pearl McKenzie, a nurse who too-zealously (Katinyeri, Ngarrindjeri Calling, 23) oversaw the Chief Protector’s policies of “training” Aboriginal children from the South Australian missions in white homes once they reached fourteen (Haebich, 316—20). Indeed many prominent Adelaide hills’ families benefited from Aboriginal labour under this arrangement. Hilda explained her struggle with the immense cultural dislocation that removal into domestic service entailed, a removal her grandfather William Rankine had travelled from Raukkan to Government House to protest against less than a decade earlier (The Register December 21, 1923). This additional layer of story also illuminates Hilda’s capacity for resilience and persistence in finding a way forward through the challenge of her circumstances (Luthar et al.), drawing on her family networks and sense of personhood (Kickett). Hilda related that her father visited her at Mount Lofty twice, though briefly, on his way to shearing jobs in the south-east of the state. “He said it was no good me living like this,” she stated. Through his active intervention, reinforcement was requested and another teenager from Point Pearce, Hilda’s future husband’s cousin, Annie Sansbury, soon arrived to share the workload. But, Hilda explained, the onerous expectations coupled with the cultural segregation of retiring to the tin shed quickly became too much for Annie, who stayed only three months, leaving Hilda coping again alone, until her father applied additional pressure for a more suitable placement to be found for his daughter. In her next position, working for the family of a racehorse trainer, Hilda contentedly shared the bedroom with the small boy for whom she cared, and not long after returned to Point Pearce where she married Robert Wilson and began a family of her own. Gendered Resilience across Cultural Divides Hilda explicitly speaks into these spaces to educate me, because all but a few white women involved have remained silent about their complicity with state sanctioned practices which exploited Indigenous labour and removed children from their families through the policies of protection and assimilation. For Indigenous women, speaking out was often fraught with the danger of a deeper removal from family and Country, even of disappearance. Victoria Haskins writes extensively of two cases in New South Wales where young Aboriginal women whose protests concerning their brutal treatment at the hands of white employers, resulted in their wrongful and prolonged committal to mental health and other institutions (147-52, 228-39). In the indentured service of Indigenous women it is possible to see oppression operating through Eurocentric ideologies of race, class and gender, in which Indigenous women were assumed to take on, through displacement, the more oppressed role of white women in pre-second world war non-Aboriginal Australian society. The troubling silent shadow-figure of the “doctor’s wife” indeed provides a haunting symbol of - and also a forceful rebellion against – the docile upper middle-class white femininity of the inter-war era. Susan Bordo has argued that that “the hysteric” is archetypal of a discourse of ‘pathology as embodied protest’ in which the body may […] be viewed as a surface on which conventional constructions of femininity are exposed starkly to view in extreme or hyperliteral form. (20) Mrs Swann’s vulnerability contrasts markedly with the strength Hilda expresses in coping with a large family, emanating from a history of equitable gender relations characteristic of Ngarrindjeri society (Bell). The intersection of race and gender, as Marcia Langton contends “continues to require deconstruction to allow us to decolonise our consciousness” (54). From Hilda’s brief description one grasps a relationship resonant with that between the protagonists in Tracy Moffat's Night Cries, (a response to the overt maternalism in the film Jedda) in which the white mother finds herself utterly reliant on her “adopted” Aboriginal daughter at the end of her life (46-7). Resilience and Survival The different versions of story Hilda deploys, provide a pedagogical basis to understanding the broader socio-political framework of her overall life narrative in which an ability to draw on the cultural continuity of the past to transform the future forms an underlying dynamic. This demonstrated capacity to meet the challenging conditions thrown up by the settler-colonial state has its foundations in the connectivity and cultural strength sustained generationally in her family. Resilience moves from being individually to socially determined, as in Kickett’s model. During the onslaught of dispossession, following South Australia’s 1836 colonial invasion, Ngarrindjeri were left near-starving and decimated from introduced diseases. Pullume (c1808-1888), the rupuli (elected leader of the Ngarrindjeri Tendi, or parliament), Hilda’s third generation great-grandfather, decisively steered his people through the traumatic changes, eventually negotiating a middle-path after the Point McLeay Mission was established on Ngarrindjeri country in 1859 (Jenkin, 59). Pullume’s granddaughter, the accomplished, independent-thinking Ellen Sumner (1842—1925), played an influential educative role during Hilda’s youth. Like other Ngarrindjeri women in her lineage, Ellen Sumner was skilled in putari practice (female doctor) and midwifery culture that extended to a duty of care concerning women and children (teaching her “what to do and what not to do”), which I suggest is something Hilda herself drew from when working with the Swann family. Hilda’s mother and aunties continued aspects of the putari tradition, attending births and giving instruction to women in the community (Bell, 171, Hughes Grandmother, 52-4). As mentioned earlier, when the South Australian government moved to introduce The Training of Children Act (SA) Hilda’s maternal grandfather William Rankine campaigned vigorously against this, taking a petition to the SA Governor in December 1923 (Haebich, 315-19). As with Aunty Hilda, William Rankine used storytelling as a method to draw public attention to the inequities of his times in an interview with The Register which drew on his life-narrative (Hughes, My Grandmother, 61). Hilda’s father Wilfred Varcoe, a Barngarrla-Wirrungu man, almost a thousand kilometres away from his Poonindie birthplace, resisted assimilation by actively pursuing traditional knowledge networks using his mobility as a highly sought after shearer to link up with related Elders in the shearing camps, (and as we saw to inspect the conditions his daughter was working under at Mt Lofty). The period Hilda spent as a servant to white families to be trained in white ways was in fact only a brief interlude in a long life in which family connections, culture and belonging (Kickett) served as the backbone of her resilience and resistance. On returning to the Point Pearce Mission, Hilda successfully raised a large family and activated a range of community initiatives that fostered well-being. In the 1960s she moved to Adelaide, initially as the sole provider of her family (her husband later followed), to give her younger children better educational opportunities. Working with Aunty Gladys Elphick OBE through the Council of Aboriginal Women, she played a foundational role in assisting other Aboriginal women establish their families in the city (Mattingly et al., 154, Fisher). In Adelaide, Aunty Hilda became an influential, much loved Elder, living in good health to the age of ninety-six years. The ability to survive changing circumstances, to extend care over and over to her children and Elders along with qualities of leadership, determination, agency and resilience have passed down through her family, several of whom have become successful in public life. These include her great-grandson and former AFL football player, Michael O’Loughlin, her great-nephew Adam Goodes and her-grand-daughter, the cultural weaver Aunty Ellen Trevorrow. Arguably, resilience contributes to physical as well as cultural longevity, through caring for the self and others. Conclusion This story demonstrates how sociocultural dimensions of resilience are contextualised in practices of everyday lives. We see this in the way that Aunty Hilda Wilson’s self-narrated story resolutely defies attempts to know, subjugate and categorise, operating instead in accord with distinctively Aboriginal expressions of gender and kinship relations that constitute an Aboriginal sovereignty. Her storytelling activates a revision of collective history in ways that valorise Indigenous identity (Kirmayer et al.). Her narrative of agency and personal achievement, one that has sustained her through life, interacts with the larger narrative of state-endorsed exploitation, diffusing its power and exposing it to wider moral scrutiny. Resilience in this context is inextricably entwined with practices of cultural survival and resistance developed in response to the introduction of government policies and the encroachment of settlers and their world. We see resilience too operating across Hilda Wilson’s family history, and throughout her long life. The agency and strategies displayed suggest alternative realities and imagine other, usually more equitable, possible worlds. References Bell, Diane. Ngarrindjeri Wurruwarrin: A World That Is, Was and Will Be. Melbourne: Spinifex, 1998. 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This paper will discuss the way in which the creative component of my thesis Hannah’s Place uses a style of neo-historical fiction to find ‘good’ narratives in (once) ‘bad’ women, keeping with the theme, here paraphrased as: The work of any researcher in the humanities is to…challenge what is simply thought of as bad or good, to complicate essentialist categories and question passively accepted thinking. As a way of expanding this statement, I would like to begin by considering the following quote from Barthes on the nature of research. I believe he identifies the type of research that I have been involved with as a PhD candidate producing a ‘creative’ thesis in the field of Communications. What is a piece of research? To find out, we would need to have some idea of what a ‘result’ is. What is it that one finds? What is it one wants to find? What is missing? In what axiomatic field will the fact isolated, the meaning brought out, the statistical discovery be placed? No doubt it depends each time on the particular science approached, but from the moment a piece of research concerns the text (and the text extends very much further than the literary work) the research itself becomes text, production: to it, any ‘result’ is literally im-pertinent. Research is then the name which prudently, under the constraint of certain social conditions, we give to the activity of writing: research here moves on the side of writing, is an adventure of the signifier. (Barthes 198) My thesis sits within the theoretical framework of postmodern literature as a new form of the genre that has been termed ‘historical fiction’. Although the novel breaks away from and challenges the concept of the traditional ‘saga’ style of narrative, or ‘grand narrative’ within historical fiction, it is no less concerned with events of the past and the idea of past experience. It departs from traditional historical fiction in that it foregrounds not only an imagined fictional past world created when the novel is read, but also the actual archival documents, the pieces of text from the past from which traditional history is made, and which here have been used to create that world–‘sparking points’ for the fictional narrative. These archival documents are used within the work as intertextual elements that frame, and, in turn, are framed by the transworld characters’ homodiegetic narrations. The term ‘transworld character’ has been attributed to Umberto Eco and refers to any real world personages found within a fictional text. Eco defines it as the ‘identity of a given individual through worlds (transworld identity)…where the possible world is a possible state of affairs expressed by a set of relevant propositions [either true or untrue which] outlines a set of possible individuals along with their properties’ (219). Umberto Eco also considers that a problem of transworld identity is ‘to single out something as persistent through alternative states of affairs’ (230). In Postmodernist Fiction, Brian McHale also puts forward a number of definitions for ‘transworld identity’. For my purposes, I take it to mean both that defined by Eco but also the literary device, as defined by McHale, of ‘borrowing a character from another text’ (57). It is McHale who elaborates on the concept as it relates to historical fiction when he states: All historical novels, even the most traditional, typically involve some violation of ontological boundaries. For instance they often claim ‘transworld identity’ between characters in their projected worlds and real-world historical figures (16-17). Interestingly for the type of fiction that I am attempting to write, McHale also takes the idea into another area when he discusses the ontological levels of the historical dimension that transworld identities may undergo. Entities can change their ontological status in the course of history, in effect migrating from one ontological realm or level to another. For instance, real world entities and happenings can undergo ‘mythification’, moving from the profane realm to the realm of the sacred (36). For transworld identities, such as those within my novel, this may mean a change in status between the past, where they were stereotyped and categorised as ‘bad’ in contemporary newspapers (my intertext elements), to something in the present approaching ‘good’, or at least a more rounded female identity within a fictional world. The introduced textual elements which I foreground in my novel are those things most often hidden from view within the mimetic and hermeneutic worlds of traditional historical fiction. The sources re-textualised within my novel are both ‘real’ items from our past, and representations and interpretations of past events. The female transworld characters’ stories in this novel are imaginative re-interpretations. Therefore, both the fictional stories, as well as their sources, are textual interpretations of prior events. In this way, the novel plays with the idea of historical ‘fact’ and historical ‘fiction’. It blurs their boundaries. It gives textual equality to each in order to bring a form of textual agency to those marginalised groups defined by PF Bradley as the ‘host of jarring witnesses, [of history] a chaos of disjoined and discrepant narrations’ (Bradley in Holton 11): In the past in Australia these were lower class women, Aboriginals, the Irish, the illiterate, and poor agricultural immigrants whose labour was excess to Britain’s needs. Hannah’s Place – A Brief Synopsis Six individual women’s stories, embedded in or ‘framed’ by a fictional topographic artist’s journal, recount ‘real’ events from Australia’s colonial past. The journal is set in 1845; a few years after convict transportation to Australia’s eastern states ceased, and the year of the first art exhibition held in the colony. That same year, Leichhardt’s expedition arrived at Port Essington in Australia’s far north, after 12 months inland exploration, while in the far south the immigrant ship Cataraqui was wrecked one day short of arrival at Melbourne’s Port Phillip with the drowning of all but one of the 369 immigrants and 38 of the 46 sailors on board. Each chapter title takes the form of the title of a topographic sketch as a way of placing the text ‘visually’ within the artist’s journal narrative. The six women’s stories are: New South Wales at Last (Woman on a Boat): A woman arrives with a sick toddler to tent accommodation for poor immigrants in Sydney, after a three month sea voyage and the shipboard birth, death, and burial at sea of her baby daughter. Yarramundi Homestead, as Seen from the East: An ill-treated Irish servant girl on a squatter’s run awaits the arrival of her fiancée, travelling on board the immigrant ship Cataraqui. In the Vale of Hartley: In the Blue Mountains, an emancipist sawyer who previously murdered three people, violently beats to death his lover, Caroline Collitts, the seventeen-year-old sister of Maria, his fifteen-year-old wife. She Being Dead Yet Speaketh: In Goulburn, Annie Brownlow, a pretty 24-year-old mother of three is executed by a convict executioner for the accidental ‘murder’, while drunk, of her adulterous husband. The Eldest Daughter: The isolated wife of a small settler gives birth, assisted by Lottie, her eldest daughter, and Merrung, an Aboriginal midwife. On Wednesday Last, at Mr Ley’s Coach and Horses Hotel: In Bathurst, a vagrant alcoholic, Hannah Simpson, dies on the floor of a dodgy boarding house after a night and a day of falling into fits and ranting about her lifetime of 30 years migration. Historiographic Metafiction Has been defined by Linda Hutcheon as ‘Fiction which keeps distinct its formal auto-representation from its historical context and in so doing problematises the very possibility of historical knowledge… There is no reconciliation, no dialectic…just unresolved contradiction’ (106). Unresolved contradiction is one of the themes that surfaces in my novel because of the juxtaposition of archival documents (past text ‘facts’) alongside fictional narrative. Historiographic metafiction can usefully be employed as a means of challenging prior patriarchal narratives written about marginalised women. It allows the freedom to create a space for a new understanding of silenced women’s lives. My novel seeks to illuminate and problematise the previously ‘seamless’ genre of hical fiction by the use of (narrative) techniques such as: collage and juxtaposition, intertextuality, framing, embedded narrative, linked stories, and footnote intertext of archival material. Juxtaposition of the fiction against elements from prior non-fiction texts, clearly enunciated as being those same actual historical sources upon which the fiction is based, reinforces this novel as a work of fiction. Yet this strategy also reminds us that the historical narrative created is provisional, residing within the fictional text and in the gaps between the fictional text and the non-fictional intertext. At the same time, the clear narrativity, the suspenseful and sensationalised text of the archival non-fiction, brings them into question because of their place alongside the fiction. A reading of the novel questions the truthfulness or degree of reliability of past textual ‘facts’ as accurate records of real women’s life events. It does this by the use of a parallel narrative, which articulates characters whose moments of ‘breaking frame’ challenge those same past texts. Their ‘fiction’ as characters is reinforced by their existence as ‘objects’ of narration within the archival texts. Both the archival texts and the fiction can be seen as ‘unreliable’. The novel uses ex-centric transworld characters and embedded intertextual ‘fragments’ to create a covert self-reflexivity. It also confuses and disrupts narrative temporality and linearity of plot in two ways. It juxtaposes ‘real’ (intertextual element) dates alongside conflicting or unknown periods of time from the fictional narrative; and, within the artist’s journal, it has a minimal use of expected temporal ‘signposts’. These ‘signposts’ of year dates, months, or days of the week are those things that would be most expected in an authentic travel narrative. In this way, the women’s stories subvert the idea, inherent in previous forms of ‘historical’ fiction, of a single point of view or ‘take’ on history that one or two main characters may hold. The use of intertext results in a continued restating of multiple, conflicting (gender, race, and class) points of view. Ultimately no one ‘correct’ reading of the past gains in supremacy over any other. This narrative construct rearticulates the idea that the past, as does the present, comprises different points of view, not all of which conform to the ‘correct’ view created by the political, social and economic ‘factors’ dominant at the time those events happen. For colonial Australia, this single point of view gave us the myth of heroic (white male) pioneers and positioned women such as some of those within my fiction as ‘bad’. The fictional text challenges that of the male ‘gaze’, which constructed these women as ‘objects’. Examples of this from the newspaper articles are: A younger sister of Caroline Collit, married John Walsh, the convict at present under sentence of death in Bathurst gaol, and, it appears, continued to live with him up till the time of her sister’s murder; but she, as well as her sister Caroline, since the trial, have been ascertained to have borne very loose characters, which is fully established by the fact, that both before and after Walsh had married the younger sister, Caroline cohabited with him and had in fact been for a considerable time living with him, under the same roof with her sister, and in a state of separation from her own husband (Collit). Sydney Morning Herald, April 27, 1842, The Mount Victoria Murder. About twelve months after her marriage, her mother who was a notorious drunkard hanged herself in her own house… Sydney Morning Herald, April 27, 1842, The Mount Victoria Murder. And when we further reflect that the perpetrator of that deed of blood was a woman our horror is, if possible, much augmented. Yes! A woman and one who ought to have been in as much as the means were assuredly in the power of her family-an ornament to her sex and station. She has been cut off in the midst of her days by the hands of the common executioner. And to add to our distress at this sad event she to whose tragic end I am referring was a wife and a mother. It was her hand which struck the blow that rendered her children orphans and brought her to an ignominious end… The Goulburn Herald, October 20, 1855, Funeral sermon on Mary Ann Brownlow. His wife had been drinking and created an altercation on account of his having sold [her] lease; she asked him to drink, but he refused, when she replied “You can go and drink with your fancywoman”. She came after him as he was going away and stabbed him…..she did it from jealousy, although he had never given her any cause for jealousy. The Goulburn Herald, Saturday, September 15, 1855, Tuesday, September 11, Wilful Murder. She was always most obedient and quiet in her conduct, and her melancholy winning manners soon procured her the sympathy of all who came in contact with her. She became deeply impressed with the sinfulness of her previous life… The Goulburn Herald, October 13, 1855, Execution of Mary Ann Brownlow. [Police] had known the deceased who was a confirmed drunkard and an abandoned woman without any home or place of abode; did not believe she had any proper means of support…The Bathurst Times, November 1871. It is the oppositional and strong narrative ‘voice’ that elicits sympathies for and with the women’s situations. The fictional narratives were written to challenge unsympathetic pre-existing narratives found within the archival intertexts. This male ‘voice’ was one that narrated and positioned women such that they adhered to pre-existing notions of morality; what it meant to be a ‘good’ woman (like Mary Ann Brownlow, reformed in gaol but still sentenced to death) or a ‘bad’ woman (Mary Ann again as the murdering drunken vengeful wife, stabbing her husband in a jealous rage). ‘Reading between the lines’ of history in this way, creating fictional stories and juxtaposing them against the non-fiction prior articulations of those same events, is an opportunity to make use of narrative structure in order to destabilise established constructs of our colonial past. For example, the trope of Australia’s colonial settler women as exampled in the notion of Anne Summers of colonial women as either God’s police or damned whores. ‘A Particularly rigid dualistic notion of women’s function in colonial society was embodied in two stereotypes….that women are either good [God’s police] or evil [Damned whores]’ (67). With this dualism in mind, it is also useful here to consider the assumption made by Veeser in laying the ground work for New Historicism, that ‘no discourse imaginative or archival, gives access to unchanging truths or expresses unalterable human nature’ (2). In a discussion of the ideas of Brian McHale, Middleton and Woods acknowledge McHale’s point of view that readers do recognise the degree to which all knowledge of the past is a construction. They make the claim that ‘the postmodern novelist answers that sense of dislocation and loss…by wrapping ruins of earlier textualities around the narrative’ (66). This to my mind is a call for the type of intertextuality that I have attempted in my thesis. The senses of dislocation and loss found when we attempt to narrativise history are embodied in the structure of the creative component of my thesis. Yet it could also be argued that the cultural complexity of colonial Australia, with women as the subjugated ‘other’ of a disempowered voice has only been constructed by and from within the present. The ‘real’ women from whose lives these stories are imagined could not have perceived their lives within the frames (class, gender, post coloniality) that we now understand in the same way that we as educated westerners cannot totally perceive a tribal culture’s view of the cosmos as a real ‘fact’. However, a fictional re-articulation of historical ‘facts’, using a framework of postmodern neo-historical fiction, allows archival documents to be understood as the traces of women to whom those documented facts once referred. The archival record becomes once again a thing that describes a world of women. It is within these archival micro-histories of illiterate lower-class women that we find shards of our hidden past. By fictionally imagining a possible narrative of their lives we, as the author/reader nexus which creates the image of who these transworld characters were, allow for things that existed in the past as possibility. The fictionalised stories, based on fragments of ‘facts’ from the past, are a way of invoking what could have once existed. In this way the stories partake of the Bernstein and Morson concept of ‘sideshadowing’. Sideshadowing admits, in addition to actualities and impossibilities, a middle realm of real possibilities that could have happened even if they did not. Things could have been different from the way they were, there are real alternatives to the present we know, and the future admits of various possibilities… sideshadowing deepens our sense of the openness of time. It has profound implications for our understanding of history and of our own lives (Morson 6). The possibilities that sideshadowing their lives invokes in these stories ‘alters the way that we think about earlier events and the narrative models used to describe them’ (Morson 7). We alter our view of the women, as initially described in the archival record, because we now perceive the narrative through which these events and therefore ‘lives’ of the women were written, as merely ‘one possibility’ of many that may have occurred. Sideshadowing alternate possibilities gives us a way out of that patriarchal hegemony into a more multi-dimensional and non-linear view of female lives in 19th Century Australia. Sideshadowing allows for the ‘non-closure’ within female narratives that these fragments of women’s lives represent. It is this which is at the core of the novel—an historiographic metafictional challenging by the fictional ‘voices’ of female transworld characters. In this work, they narrate from a female perspective the might-have-been alternative of that previously considered as an historical, legitimate account of the past. Barthes and Bakhtin Readers of this type of historiographic metafiction have the freedom to recreate an historical fictional world. By virtue of the use of self-reflexivity and intertext they participate in a fictional world constructed by themselves from the author(s) of the text(s) and the intertext, and the original women’s voices used as quotations by the intertext’s (male) author. This world is based upon their construction of a past created from the author’s research, the author’s subjectivity (from within and by disciplinary discourse), by the author(s) choice of ‘signifiers’ and the meanings that these choices create within the reader’s subjectivity (itself formed out of their individual cultural and social milieu). This idea echoes Barthes concept of the ‘death of the author’, such that: As soon as a fact is narrated no longer with a view to acting directly on reality but intransitively, that is to say, finally outside of any function other than that of the very practice of the symbol itself; this disconnection occurs, the voice loses its origin, the author enters into his own death, writing begins. (142) When entering into the world created by this style of historical fiction the reader also enters into a world of previous ‘texts’ (or intertexts) and the multitude of voices inherent in them. This is the Bakhtinian concept of heteroglossia, that ‘every utterance contains within it the trace of other utterances, both in the past and in the future’ (263). The narrative formed thus becomes one of multiple ‘truths’ and therefore multiple histories. Once written as ‘bad’, the women are now perceived as ‘good’ characters and the ‘bad’ events that occurred around them and to them make up ‘good’ elements of plot, structure, characterisation and voice for a fictionalised version of a past possibility. Bad women make good reading. Conclusion This type of narrative structure allows for the limits of the silenced ‘voice’ of the past, and therefore an understanding of marginalised groups within hegemonic grand narratives, to be approached. It seems to me no surprise that neo-historical fiction is used more when the subjects written about are members of marginalised groups. Silenced voices need to be heard. Because these women left no written account of their experiences, and because we can never experience the society within which their identities were formed, we will never know their ‘identity’ as they experienced it. Fictional self-narrated stories of transworld characters allows for a transformation of the women away from an identity created by the moralising, stereotyped descriptions in the newspapers towards a more fully developed sense of female identity. Third-hand male accounts written for the (then) newspaper readers consumption (and for us as occupiers of the ‘future’) are a construct of one possible identity only. They do not reflect the women’s reality. Adding another fictional ‘identity’ through an imagined self-narrated account deconstructs that limited ‘identity’ formed through the male ‘gaze’. It does so because of the ability of fiction to allow the reader to create a fictional world which can be experienced imaginatively and from within their own subjectivity. Rather than something passively recorded, literature offers history as a permanent reactivation of the past in a critique of the present, and at the level of content offers a textual anamnesis for the hitherto ignored, unacknowledged or repressed pasts marginalised by the dominant histories. (Middleton and Woods 77) References Bakhtin, Mikhail. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Trans. Michael Holquist. Ed. Caryl Emerson. Austin: U of Texas P, 1981. Barthes, Roland, and Stephen Heath, eds. Image, Music, Text. New York: Hill and Wang, 1977. Eco, Umberto. The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts. Bloomington and London: Indiana UP, 1979. Holton, Robert. Jarring Witnesses: Modern Fiction and the Representation of History. New York: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1994. Hutcheon, Linda. A Poetics of Postmodernism: History, Theory, Fiction. New York: Routledge, 1988. McHale, Brian. Postmodernist Fiction. New York and London: Methuen, 1987. Middleton, Peter, and Tim Woods. Literatures of Memory: History, Time and Space in Postwar Writing. Manchester and New York: Manchester UP, 2000. Morson, Gary Saul. Narrative and Freedom: The Shadows of Time. New Haven: Yale UP, 1994. Summers, Anne. Damned Whores and God’s Police. Ringwood Vic: Penguin Books, 1994. Veeser, H. Aram. The New Historicism. London: Routledge, 1989. Citation reference for this article MLA Style Lowes, Elanna Herbert. "Transgressive Women, Transworld Women: The Once ‘Bad’ Can Make ‘Good’ Narratives." M/C Journal 8.1 (2005). echo date('d M. Y'); ?> <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0502/04-herbertlowes.php>. APA Style Lowes, E. (Feb. 2005) "Transgressive Women, Transworld Women: The Once ‘Bad’ Can Make ‘Good’ Narratives," M/C Journal, 8(1). Retrieved echo date('d M. Y'); ?> from <http://journal.media-culture.org.au/0502/04-herbertlowes.php>.