“Colonial occupation itself was a matter of seizing, delimiting, and asserting control over a physical geographical area—of writing on the ground a new set of social and spatial relations. The writing of new spatial relations (territorialization) was, ultimately, tantamount to the production of boundaries and hierarchies, zones and enclaves; the subversion of existing property arrangements; the classification of people according to different categories; resource extraction; and, finally, the manufacturing of a large reservoir of cultural imaginaries”.
Achille Mbembe, “Necropolitics,” Public Culture, Vol.15, No.1 (Winter 2003), pg.26
Alice Springs is a unique place. That might seem a bit cliché to start off with, but it’s true. Its location, its history, its current community combine to highlight tension and nuances built into concepts of ‘territory’.
I first moved to Alice Springs when I was 11, prior to that I had lived on 4 different continents and in 4 different cities. As I write this, my tally now stands at 4 continents and 6 cities. Perhaps because of my upbringing I have always been fascinated by the boundaries both physical and immaterial that govern society and relationships. I was lucky to have been brought up in cross-cultural environments. You learn quickly how to emphasise your similarities, while still being fascinated by your differences. You learn how to feel comfortable, if not somehow ‘at home’ in another culture’s territory.
On a more personal level, for the past few years I have been ruminating on those concepts of ‘home’ and ‘belonging’ because I still don’t quite know what they mean. How do you define home? How do you know where you truly belong? Maybe I have moved too much, never standing still in one place for a long enough time to understand ‘home’ properly.
It is in a strange way that we mark our social and psychic boundaries by using physical markers to either exclude or include others: the bedroom in the family home that designates ‘my’ space and sanctuary, the family home on our street that separates us from other families and so on. For the most part we live our lives within these carefully crafted boundaries without giving too much conscious thought to it. The divide between “us” and “them” is too often one-dimensional and simplistic. We forget that physical divides often have greater and more insidious socio-political effects.
I think what gives Alice Springs (and the rest of the Northern Territory) its uniqueness is that the cultural melting pot of people who live and work here are often faced with multi-faceted aspects of territory and belonging. It is often unsettling but deeply intriguing.
I am aware of the space my house sits on, of which I feel ownership and am protective over, is land which was once ‘home’ to someone else (and still is). I recognise that the community I feel a part of does not always recognise those who occupied this land and who formed their own communities long ago. I recognise the social hierarchies I was born into and still today take part in; white, middle class and well educated. I realise that perhaps I act in an unconscious manner towards others who do not fit within the same social structure, leaving them excluded in some way or unheard.
Yet at the same time I am aware of progress, of cultural boundaries and divides being constantly broken down or reformed into more mutable states.
I am aware that I feel most at home in a place where things change quickly, where people transition through the town at a rapid rate, where everybody is paradoxically welcome and yet not at the same time.
I think a lot of people are drawn back here like I am because living in Alice Springs begins to help us answer the questions of what we consider home, how we should define our space. But the answers will never come easily.
Living in Alice Springs thrusts us into the uncomfortable and we’ve got to make something comfortable out of it. In such a place as this, territory will always be mutable. As ever changing as the weather, as unsettled as the shifting sands and iron dust. It’s not perfect and perhaps never will be. But we are trying. This is my territory. This is our territory.
By: Karyna Jansons
Karyna is a contributing editor to TheTerritoryInBetween.
