The Red Coast

by Di Morrissey

  ‘And there are rumours that Chamberlains is going to start clearing the land even though there are heritage sites there and no permission has been given. So, we’re going to block the road, set up a campsite at the turn-off to The Point and man it twenty-four/seven. We’re already putting together a roster organising people in town to run food and supplies out to the site.’

  ‘Surely the government hasn’t gone ahead and approved permits already? I thought the traditional owners had challenged on the basis of native title – shouldn’t that hold it up? And what about all the evidence collected about the wildlife, habitats, whale numbers and so forth, proving what an ecologically sensitive place the coast is?’ protested Jacqui.

  Phillip raised his hands in frustration. ‘Yes, if you listen to the gas people you’d think the oceans are empty and the desert is a dead zone!’

  ‘Okay, Peggy, let’s get you up there,’ said Gordon, one of the local charter-boat owners. He’d brought ropes from his boat, together with clamps and a winch, and now set about helping Peggy climb to the top of the crane.

  Jacqui stood beside Phillip as the slight figure, wearing a small backpack, inched up the ladder well of the sixty-five-metre-high structure. ‘Are you staying out here too?’ she asked him.

  ‘Yes, of course. Peggy might say she’ll be okay, but there’s no way I’m leaving her alone while she’s up there. I’ve brought my swag and I’ll hunker down over there by the fence. She’s got her phone and friends lined up to chat with if she gets bored.’

  As Peggy neared the top, the people on the ground began to take photos of her as she unfurled and secured a long protest banner.

  ‘I’ll take a picture of her for Jean-Luc, too,’ said Jacqui. ‘Do you want me to bring you anything? What about dinner?’

  ‘We had a good meal before we came, and Peg’s got snacks and water in her backpack. I’ve got some food in my car, so we’ll be fine, but thanks for asking, Jacqui.’

  ‘How long will she stay up there?’

  ‘As long as it takes, I guess. Chamberlains won’t like to see a “Save the Coast” banner flying from the top of their crane. And as soon as the media hears about it, they’ll all be out here to get the story.’

  ‘Good on you both. I think Peggy’s very brave,’ said Jacqui. She was moved by their fearlessness and passion.

  *

  Time passed slowly now it was dark and the spectators had left. Below Peggy, spotlights blazed down on the barbed-wire fence. Beyond the perimeter of lights, the Kimberley savannah darkened into the horizon. Peggy knew that this incursion by the mining company would destroy the fragile ecosystem of the area.

  Through the slow quiet hours, while Peggy tried to sleep, the moon began to sink in the sky and the stars fade to dawn. And in the early rays of morning sunlight, she was the first to see from her perch the line of blue and white cars, in a cloud of dust, making their way to bring her down.

  Peggy’s defiant perch on top of the crane kept police, Chamberlains’ local staff, media and a support group of activists busy for most of the morning. Many of the townsfolk detoured past the site to cheer on the defiant, grinning girl as she waved to them from the top of the banner-draped crane, so few paid attention to the cars and trucks that were speeding north on the peninsula road, towards The Point.

  *

  As Jacqui drove through town later that week, she heard on the radio that Chamberlains had been granted permits to start clearing the land. Banners, flags and signs were on display in practically every front yard, though there were some businesses that remained unadorned by posters or petitions. Other places, deemed to be supporters of the Chamberlains project, were boycotted by diehard anti-gas and mining proponents. Jacqui knew the anti-mining supporters included stallholders at the weekend markets, who handed out pamphlets and encouraged their customers to sign petitions calling on the government to halt the proposed gas hub. Other groups had been busy running film nights, neighbourhood concerts, art exhibitions, cookouts and sporting events to raise funds in support of Save Our Coast. Rumours were rife that a number of Chamberlains agents were posing as fisherman – their plastic fishing rods and hapless attempts at casting them were a dead giveaway – to keep an eye on the protesters and locals on the beach. Lydia, who seemed to be in a dozen places at once these days, had told Jacqui somewhat gleefully that the protesters were taking delight in feeding them misinformation.

  Lydia had asked Jacqui that morning if she could spare a couple of hours to take some things that were needed out to the protest site. Jacqui had immediately agreed to help, although she was feeling increasingly guilty about leaving Sylvia alone in the shop so often. Thank heavens the writers’ festival was over, otherwise she would never have been able to put in so much time for the protest. She drove past the crane, which was still sitting on the edge of the town, and continued up the coast road. When she arrived at the crossroad of the coast road to The Point, the camp already looked more of a permanent fixture than it had the first time she’d seen it. With the road blocked, the surrounding rough pindan country was only suited to motorbikes or hikers. Jacqui parked her four-wheel drive in a shady spot and got out.

  It was evident that the protesters had made themselves as comfortable as possible, sitting in the shade of trees or under temporary bough shelters, tarps, beach umbrellas and tents. Jacqui knew they were well catered for by townsfolk, and were frequently joined or replaced by other volunteers. She loved the idea that local musicians often visited the camp, keeping up morale by putting on impromptu concerts and singalongs.

  The campaigners had also enlisted the support of activists, not only from other parts of the state but from across the country as well. Sympathetic politicians, business executives and tourists had all made the pilgrimage to the blockade. Lydia and her campaign media team regularly took photos of all the activity, sent out messages on social media and updated the mainstream news outlets.

  But the police numbers were also growing. Extra officers, some flown up from Perth and unfamiliar with the heat in this part of the state, sweated in their uniforms. And, as time wore on and the stalemate lengthened, their initial good-natured banter wavered, as did their patience.

  Eddie Kana was the first person Jacqui noticed as she made her way into the camp. She remembered him from when she and Jean-Luc had met him at The Point. A solidly built man in shorts and a dark T-shirt, his old hat pulled low over his sunglasses, he was standing in front of the banner tied across the road, arms folded over his chest. A large Aboriginal flag fluttered from a tree beside him. Lydia had told her that Eddie was acknowledged as the senior law boss of the peninsula country, even though he was only in his forties. Before he died, Eddie’s grandfather had recognised Eddie’s leadership qualities and anointed him the overall law man, jumping a generation. Eddie was a natural leader, a calming influence and a superb tactician. As Jacqui watched, Eddie began to speak to the gathered crowd.

  ‘Brothers and sisters, we are all united. We have a unique opportunity to show the world that people of this land, the custodians, traditional owners, community leaders, the many Aboriginal clans, as well as the people of many races who have been born here, or have chosen to come and live here, all love this place. We are all the same. We don’t need to fight and argue. This is right and true. This is our country, we belong here, we are staying here. We look after it, all together, proper way. It is ours to protect for now and many future generations. We will stand our ground, but stay peaceful.’

  He spoke softly, firmly, and everyone clapped and cheered as he finished. Jacqui could see in people’s faces that they knew their community was as one in its determination to not see the place they loved despoiled. And their belief was a simple one: they had right on their side, and this was where they belonged.

  ‘We hang on till we win,’ said Eddie. He smiled, a large warm grin, as he finished speaking.

  Jacqui walked over to h
im and shook his hand.

  ‘Good on you, Eddie. This is a big fight,’ she said.

  He gave a slight shrug. ‘This is my job, mate. This is what I do. I protect my heritage, my law, my country. Them fellas inside four walls, they don’t feel the country, they don’t have the thousands of years of knowledge we got to pass on down. They could put this refinery some other place. Not here.’

  ‘You’re right. You’ll win this, I feel sure.’

  ‘Jacqui!’

  She spun around, and smiled with delight when she saw Ted Palmer striding towards her.

  ‘Palmer! Great to see you. I should have guessed you’d come. Is Lily here too?’

  ‘No, she’s still at home. I was in town and the word came to get up here. Some loaders have been spotted on the highway carrying bulldozers and other land-clearing gear. Looks like there’s going to be a serious push made to get the lighter equipment through to The Point.’

  ‘Are you sure? Maybe they’ll just store it on the land where Chamberlains has set up their base office.’

  He raised an eyebrow. ‘I doubt it. There’re at least eighty coppers escorting them.’

  ‘You’re joking!’

  ‘If you want to leave, I’d go now. You might not get out otherwise. The lock-ons have been told that the cops are on the move and they’re ready for action.’

  Jacqui knew what that meant. The lock-ons were volunteers who were ready at a moment’s notice, any time, day or night, to lock themselves quickly onto equipment, vehicles, forty-four-gallon drums, broken-down car wrecks, even pipes, and stay there passively until physically removed by the police. There was a twenty-four-hour monitoring system, and if those on call were woken in the middle of the night, they sprang from their beds to follow trucks or move to their designated stations in the scrub and along the road to The Point.

  ‘This sounds serious,’ said Jacqui. ‘I’m actually here to deliver some printouts to the communications people. Lydia has asked me to drop them in to their tent. But it looks like I might be here when things start hotting up!’

  Looking up, Jacqui noticed that the camp had sprung into action while she and Palmer had been talking. Where people had been lazing around tents or under trees, now they were swiftly moving into designated positions, while extra vehicles were driven onto the road to reinforce the barricade.

  Palmer walked over to Eddie and they briefly conferred while Jacqui hurried to the small communications tent where two people were busy working on their laptops.

  ‘Hi, guys. Lydia has sent up the information you asked for,’ said Jacqui, taking the bundle of papers from her bag and handing them over. ‘Although you’re linked to the world from here now, aren’t you?’

  ‘You bet we are,’ said one of the volunteers, a young girl with a foreign accent. ‘We have a satellite dish up now and everything is being recorded, photographed, emailed and Facebooked to our support base around the country. We’re starting to get quite a following from other countries. When people see the videos and photographs we send out from here, they think we’ve enhanced the colours. They can’t believe it’s real.’

  ‘Where’re you from?’ asked Jacqui, as she had never seen them around before.

  ‘We’re uni students, taking a break from our studies in Victoria, so we thought we’d come up to volunteer. No one wants to see this place damaged,’ said the young man. ‘And thanks for bringing these papers.’

  Abruptly, the call rang out. ‘They’re coming!’

  With a quick farewell, Jacqui hurried outside to Palmer and followed his gaze down the road, shading her eyes with one hand. A heavy dust cloud rose in the distance, heralding the arrival of several heavy transports with a police escort. They thundered off the highway and onto the red dirt road.

  ‘Silly bastards, look at the speed they’re doing! Are they trying to drive right over the top of us?’ Palmer turned back to the flimsy-looking blockade. ‘Everybody get out here. Link arms and stand across the road,’ he yelled. ‘Then they’ll have to stop,’ he muttered darkly.

  There was a rush. Two people grabbed each of Jacqui’s hands and pulled her into one of the several lines of protesters that had rapidly formed across the road in front of the barricade. She looked around and realised she was caught up in the middle of the group of demonstrators. They were of all ages and races; some she knew were from Broome and other parts of the Kimberley, but others were complete strangers.

  Eddie Kana moved to stand in front of them.

  ‘We stand here, and I speak for my country. We be peaceful, no violence. We are right, they are wrong,’ he reminded the crowd quietly.

  The first two police cars sped down the road, sirens blaring, lights flashing, closely followed by two more police cars. Pulling up side by side, four abreast, the cars braked in front of the blockade.

  The officers jumped from their vehicles and paused, glaring at the silent crowd.

  Eddie stepped forward.

  The senior officer looked at him but addressed the crowd.

  ‘This is a public road. You cannot stop these vehicles going to their location. You people have to move.’

  Nobody budged or spoke.

  Eddie shook his head. ‘Them trucks have no right to go down to our land.’

  He gestured at the loader carrying a huge bulldozer as it pulled up behind the four police cars. Behind that were more police cars ahead of a second transport vehicle, laden with what looked like bush-clearing equipment.

  ‘And who might you be, sir?’ asked the police officer.

  ‘I am Eddie Kana, the senior law man for my country.’

  ‘Well, I’m sorry, sir, but Chamberlain Industries has permits to start clearing their site.’

  ‘They have no site, this is our country,’ said Eddie firmly.

  ‘Well, they do now, mate, because the state government’s made an order for compulsory acquisition of all the land right up to The Point.’ With that, the officer pushed a document into the Aboriginal leader’s hand. Eddie slowly took the paper, but didn’t bother to look at it.

  ‘Officer, I have every right to be here, like my ancestors. I have walked all this country with my grandfather. I know every rock, every sacred site . . . I know this land. You can’t bring that equipment here and break the serpent’s back.’ He was gripping the piece of paper as though it was burning him.

  ‘Sorry, Mr Kana, it’s progress. Anyway, a lot of your people have signed off on the deal. They want the development to go ahead. I’m just telling you what you’ve been ordered to do.’

  Palmer’s voice rose from the rear. ‘Well, the people here don’t want that sort of development and neither do a lot of other Australians. Why don’t you send that message back to Chamberlains’ boardroom?’

  ‘We’re just carrying out orders, doing our duty, sir,’ snapped the policeman, who was clearly finding his job increasingly frustrating.

  ‘And so are we!’ came a querulous voice, and an elderly Aboriginal lady pushed her way towards the police lined up in front of the demonstrators. Her age was hard to discern. She was hunched, with sharp features and dark and darting eyes. Her pointed chin was thrust outward, and the long black finger she was pointing at the police made her seem as fierce as she was fearless.

  She stepped forward, facing the line of blue-shirted officers. Their mirrored sunglasses disguised any expression.

  Undeterred, she raised a fist. ‘You know nothing about us! Our people gonna fight for our rights! For our culture! For this country! You got no right to stop us.’

  Several of the policemen started to move towards the defiant but tense crowd.

  ‘We’ll have to start arresting you if you don’t move voluntarily.’ The police officer’s voice was terse.

  The driver of the front-end loader leaned out his window. ‘Drag ’em away, officer! Nothing but troublemakers in my books. Maybe
I should drive over ’em!’

  Jacqui was nervous at this turn of events and gripped the hands of those beside her a little more tightly.

  Eddie looked around at everyone and then quietly sat down on the ground. The crowd followed, still holding hands.

  The senior policeman at the front shrugged, turned and waved the rest of the police to move forward. By now, more police officers had come forward to join the first group, and the protesters were well outnumbered.

  ‘Stay calm, be still and stand your ground!’ Jacqui heard Palmer say.

  But the fiery old Aboriginal woman was having none of it. She stuck her beaklike nose in front of the senior policeman and shook her fist at him again.

  ‘You boys not gonna make us move and let them buggers chop up that land. We got the old people bones out there. You move ’em bones and you bring bad trouble.’

  ‘Lady, I don’t want to give you any grief, so you’ll have to move, or we’ll take you to the courthouse lockup in town.’

  ‘Hey, you can’t lock her up,’ called out a young man. ‘She’s an old lady!’

  By now the drivers of the heavy equipment were getting even more frustrated by the delay and began to toot their horns.

  ‘Move the bastards!’ some of them shouted.

  Patiently, silently, the police began to move in. Jacqui took a deep breath and held her ground as, two at a time, the police lifted or dragged each silent protester off the road. When it was her turn to be moved, she copied what she’d seen the other protesters do, hanging like a dead weight between the perspiring police until she was dumped unceremoniously at the side of the road. It felt like the scariest and the bravest thing she had ever done.

  As the campaigners were being moved, a policeman pulled down the huge banner that had been strung across the road. A cheer went up among the crowd when three people were revealed chained to metal pipes fastened to the hulk of a car, their arms securely padlocked to the heavy equipment. One of them was Palmer. Jacqui recognised the other two strapping young men as employees from Lily’s pearl farm.