Black Angels???Red Blood

by Steven McCarthy

  The old Lawman had passed through Sydney for nearly forty years and had secretly initiated dozens of Aborigines in Redfern. He was a powerful featherfoot and raised Black assassins. He knew that Tim was the best in his field. Retirement for him wasn’t far off.

  He got the feeling that Redfern had changed. There was much more community activity and he could see that the despair was losing its grip. It made him feel like singing, so he pulled out his guitar and began to play a land rights song. Within moments he was surrounded by kids and adults curious as to what this old stranger was singing about in their community.

  He walked up and down the streets talking to people and listening to whatever they wanted to share. He saw some little ones with runny noses and pulled out some gum leaves and told one of the mothers to give them to the children to chew on. They were amazed to learn that the gum trees growing in the streets could be used for colds and flus. To those that caught his eye he told a little secret in the hope that they would yearn for more knowledge of their dynamic culture.

  The old man wanted to get off his feet and have a cup of tea, so he made his way to Molly’s house in Caroline Street and was warmly welcomed. Molly was Sylvia’s aunty and he asked after Sylvia.

  “Sylvia’s acting now and she’s on a few committees as well. I think she wants to get out. Two tribes are fighting each other and she’s the meat in the sandwich.”

  “I won’t ask which tribes, but I bet I know who they are,” says the old man wryly.

  “They’re all so stupid. Some of the horrible things I’ve heard—I’ll be glad when Sylvia gets out,” Molly said, shaking her head.

  “Two tribes fighting. Spear come this way, nulla nulla this way.” The old man slaps his hand and points in a far-off direction, saying, “Blackfella go that way.” They both laugh.

  “I’ll give you her address and you can go and see her and try and talk some sense into her.” Molly wrote out the address and handed it to him.

  “I’m staying down at Alice’s place at the moment,” he said, then added, “but you know me—here, there, everywhere.”

  “Just make sure you say goodbye before you leave,” Molly reminded him.

  “I will. See you later.” He walked slowly back to Alice’s place. On his way he took note of certain characters hanging around a white fella in the little park off Lawson Street. When he arrived Alice wasn’t home, so he decided to clean up and go through his dilly bag to make sure the things he needed were there. He knew it would be a long night, judging by his first meeting with Tim ten years ago.

  Alice walked in and said “hello” on her way to the kitchen. The old man responded and followed her. Alice made a cup of tea and offered to make the old man a sandwich or cook some food. He declined on the pretence of going out for dinner, though his real reason was that he knew they survived on the bare essentials and he did not want to intrude. They sat for a chat and swapped gossip on what they’d been doing since they last saw each other.

  The old man excused himself and got ready to meet Tim at the local hotel. On the way he was accosted by the local kids who asked him to sing them a song. He promised that he’d be back to sing for them later.

  Tim was already at the bar having a beer when the old man walked in. Tim asked if he wanted a beer. The old man nodded and sat down next to him.

  “Do you want to sit here or in the lounge?” asked Tim.

  “In the lounge, it’s a bit more private,” the old man answered.

  They moved to the lounge with beers in hand and settled in the corner. There were only a few people in the lounge and it was a lot quieter than the front bar. There were a couple of young black men playing pool, but it was a predominantly white pub.

  “It’s not like ten years ago when the blacks had their own pubs,” Tim remarked. “We used to be wall to wall.”

  “What happened to all of that?” the old man asked.

  “I think the plan was to kick the blacks out of Redfern so they could expand the central business district,” replied Tim.

  “Well, the blacks are still here,” The old man stated.

  “Yea, TNT lost out badly even though they had lots of support from the police. Harassing us every day. Closing down pubs where we drank,” explained Tim.

  “Same story in lots of places in WA,” the old man added.

  “They didn’t shift the Koories and the arse has fallen out of TNT’s shares. They’re going broke!” said Tim.

  “Good news for the Koories,” said the old man.

  “Not all good news. They’re still getting harassed by the police. They bring the young coppers into Redfern to give them hands-on riot training, using the blacks as their target. A horrific situation when you look at the real implications,” said Tim ruefully. “They done a survey and asked white people if they thought the police were racist and around 70 per cent said they weren’t. Then along came, ‘Cop it Sweet’, the TV documentary about Redfern coppers. Did you see that?”

  “Yeah, I saw that.”

  “It was fantastic. It showed just how racist the bastards are, and then the top brass in the police said that it was a reflection on community attitudes as the recruits were from the community,” Tim said sarcastically.

  They finished their beers and Tim stood up to get another round. The old man stopped him and told him that they should go somewhere else to talk. Tim agreed and they headed back toward the block. The block, as Koories called it, was the heart of four streets—Eveleigh, Caroline, Louis and Vine Streets in Redfern. The old man started talking and Tim, noticing the tone in his voice, listened without interrupting. Tim understood most of what the old man said and believed unreservedly. The one thing that stuck in Tim’s mind was the part about changes being made in today’s society. The words echoed in Tim’s ears. “It’s bigger than anything we’ve seen and it’s got no brakes. Doesn’t pull up for anyone.” It was usual for the old man to talk like that and it was purely for Tim’s benefit. He chose to do it that way and as always what he said was the tip of the iceberg. When people questioned him at length on anything, he would start using his own language ferociously. Then he would stop abruptly and tell them to listen to what he said. He would tell the story and the only thing the listener really heard was the last lines and the summing up. The rest was buried deep inside for future reference at the beck and call of the old man.

  The old man looked up and asked Tim if he knew any place where it would be comfortable to talk. Tim suggested that Charlie’s would be a good place to go. “I might get a few beers,” Tim said as they were walking past the pub nearest to the block. “Feel like a drink?”

  “Naaaah, none for me,” the old man said.

  They arrived at Charlie’s and Tim introduced the two men to each other. “Is that all you brung, a six-pack?” Charlie jokingly said.

  “The pub’s just up the corner,” said Tim hinting at Charlie for a drinking session.

  They sat down and pulled out their pot for a session, making small talk while doing so. Tim and Charlie had a beer while the old man made a cup of tea. The old man began to talk again, virtually ignoring Charlie and talking directly to Tim. After an hour or so, Tim began to understand and nodded to the old man. The old man was relieved that Tim understood and that they could now proceed without delay.

  “Not frightened of doing what you gotta?” the old man asked.

  “Naaahh, I’ve done it before,” Tim said, then added, “I don’t know why I’m doing it.”

  The old man looked Tim in the eye. “Let’s say you’re doing my job for me.” A thousand questions ran through Tim’s mind and the old man saw this and held his hand up: “Keep your questions for tomorrow. I’ll tell you more after it’s done.”

  He told Tim to meet him in the morning for a cup of tea. Charlie suggested they meet at his place, knowing that Tim was going to camp there for the night. The old man agreed and left.

  “That was heavy stuff,” Charlie remarked.

  “Did you understand what he
was saying?” Tim asked.

  “A little bit, from what I could see.”

  “He’s a powerful man.”

  “Are you his understudy?” Charlie asked.

  “He’s got several of them,” replied Tim. “Now, I wouldn’t mind going to a pub for a while.”

  “Okay, let’s go to the Royal. You never know, you might get lucky.”

  When they arrived at the Royal Hotel, they ordered beers and went to the pool room. There were several people there, including some Koori women who Charlie knew. Tim set the pool table and Charlie talked to the women. Charlie introduced Tim to two of the women, Sylvia and Jeannie, and they decided to play doubles. After the pool game they sat and talked, getting the background on each other, who their people are and what tribe they come from. They relaxed in each other’s company and were soon talking openly to each other.

  “Do you know Regina?” Sylvia asked Charlie.

  “Yea, so does Tim,” Charlie answered.

  “She got belted by the publican last night,” Sylvia said, knowing that the reaction would be a hostile one.

  “What! She’s seven months pregnant,” remarked Charlie in disgust.

  “She had a good go at him too. I don’t know what it was over though,” Sylvia remarked.

  Tim had known Regina for years and had to contain the anger that rose up within him.

  “Someone ought to smash him,” suggested Charlie.

  Tim calmed himself and asked if anyone wanted another beer. They all answered “yes” and he went to get another round.

  “Not a bad sort, hey Sylvia.” Jeannie dug Sylvia in the ribs gently with her elbow.

  “A western plains Mroody, hey,” Sylvia said thoughtfully. “And got brains as well.”

  Hoping that they might come back to his place, Charlie asked what they were doing after the pub. They told him they were going to a nightclub in Paddington and that they were welcome to tag along or meet them there. Tim returned to the table with the beers and they told him what they intended to do. Tim couldn’t ignore the opportunity of female company and agreed to meet them in Paddington at the nightclub with Charlie.

  Sylvia and Jeannie finished their beers and as she left Sylvia made definite eye-contact with Tim to ensure that he showed up at the prescribed meeting place. He smiled and blessed his luck and had a good look at her form in tight jeans, then said, “She’s got a nice arse.”

  Charlie laughed. “She’s beautiful and smart and that’s all you can look at.”

  “I’m only in town for a little while, her mind will have to wait,” Tim replied.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  STANDOFF

  It was around seven on Sunday morning and Tim was asleep on the floor in Charlie’s lounge. There was a loud knock on the door. Tim woke up and answered it. Charlie was still asleep upstairs. Tim got a bit of a shock to see two blue uniforms and was glad that the security grille prevented them from entering.

  “We’re making enquiries and would like to ask you a few questions,” said the officer.

  “What about?” Tim asked.

  “We want to know if you heard anything unusual last night about two o’clock?”

  “Naah, we were at a nightclub till after three.”

  “A body was discovered in an old house just down the road and we’re trying to ascertain the time it happened.”

  “Sorry. Can’t help you.” Tim was being polite because the bong and the dope were still on the table and he didn’t want them inside.

  “Sorry to have disturbed you. If you do remember anything which might be of help, please ring the Redfern Police.”

  “Okay,” replied Tim curtly and closed the door.

  Tim put the jug on to make a cup of tea. He called to Charlie, then went upstairs to tell him what had happened.

  “I’ll be down in a minute, put the jug on.”

  “It’s on,” Tim answered.

  Charlie came down and he and Tim began discussing the latest events. Charlie went out into the street and asked a couple of people about last night. They directed him to the young man who had found the body. Charlie knew him and went over to speak to him.

  Tim had a cup of tea ready for Charlie when he returned with the young man, who Tim guessed was about seventeen or eighteen. Charlie relayed the story to Tim.

  “They found him. He had his ears cut off and it looked like he’d been raped,” said Charlie.

  Tim looked Charlie in the eye and asked squarely, “What’d’ya think, one of our mob could’ve done that?”

  “The way that I look at it,” Charlie answered, “evil has no colour.”

  “The stories will be as thick as the coppers floating around,” Tim said, wondering what the next few days would be like.

  “I’d better hide me dope,” said Charlie reluctantly.

  “Steak for breakfast, Charlie?” Tim asked.

  “Sounds alright.”

  After breakfast they decided to ask around and try to get some more information. The streets were abuzz with people doing exactly what Tim and Charlie were doing. They decided it might be better to wait and see what happened later. Tim thought over the events leading up to the death wondering whether there had been any major political decisions to be made involving Aborigines. It was not the first time that things like this had happened. He remembered in 1981 when the New South Wales government was making plans to introduce Land Rights. There were six deaths in custody that year, two of them people known to Tim. The shock and outrage that followed almost ruined the talks between the Koories and the government. Tim was of the opinion that something was coming up for the Koories and most possibly in their favour. He was aware that radical white organisations always found out before Koories about any developments in the political arena and always tried their hardest to upset any meaningful talks.

  He and Charlie sat and discussed some of the options about the body that had been found. They finally drew two possible conclusions—One that it was a gangland-style killing, possibly related to drugs or money. One way to confirm that was to check on the victim’s I.D. and see if he had any connections with the underworld. If not, it was probably the work of racist elements trying to start a mini race war in Redfern. The blacks versus the police.

  By now the police presence in Redfern had doubled and you saw them every five minutes instead of every ten. Tim knew it would be another hard time for the Koories in Redfern. The list of raids and police harassment would be endless.

  “Well, this is the original spot,” said Tim aloud. “Botany Bay, the invasion. The source of much misery for blacks.” He looked menacingly at a policeman walking past. Charlie, too, was becoming unsteady and knew that the police would start busting dope dealers. It was ironic that they were some of the regular suppliers.

  The old man dropped in for a cup of tea around nine o’clock. He’d heard basically the same story as Tim and Charlie and had drawn the same conclusion. The old man didn’t want to be drawn into a discussion about it and said he was going to visit a friend in Newtown. Charlie and Tim decided to get stoned and watch the music clips on TV. Sunday mornings were usually slow and being hungover was another excuse to lie around. In no time Tim had dozed off.

  When Tim woke it was about one o’clock. Charlie had gone and there was a note on the table with a key. Tim decided to call his friend Kate to see if she wanted to go to the movies.

  “I’ve been expecting a call from you!” said Kate brightly when she realised it was Tim.

  “I’m in Redfern,” Tim said.

  “I know,” Kate answered.

  “I thought I slipped into Sydney quietly,” Tim said, trying to add an air of mystery.

  “We saw you last night hopping into a taxi in Paddo with some people. Come over and have a yarn,” said Kate in a friendly tone.

  “Okay, I will.”

  Tim had a shower and changed the clothes that he’d slept in and felt mildly relaxed. He decided to walk, as Surry Hills wasn’t that far. It was a nice sunny da
y and he could’ve almost liked Sydney on days like this.

  The household were all up. They had been celebrating all night and were now on their way to the pub for a recovery session. Kate was a white girl he had met a couple of years ago and he considered her a good friend. Kate was too hungover to go to the movies and was going to have a lazy day, so Tim went with the others. Most of the people in the pub were English with a smattering of Australian and Irish. Tim didn’t feel uncomfortable being the only black person there. He had a good look around and noticed he was the focus of a lot of people’s attention. After a few beers and a joint, Tim began to open up and talk to people who had come to congregate at their table.

  There were a couple of women Tim wanted to talk to, and by the time he’d plucked up the courage, the rest of the gang were making plans to leave. Tim didn’t want to leave, as he was beginning to enjoy himself, but finding himself among a group of total strangers didn’t appeal and he made his way back with the rest of them. He knew where the pub was and could come back at any time. Kate was having a coffee when they returned. She and Tim talked for an hour or so while the rest of the group either went to their rooms or left the house.

  Tim finally said goodbye and made his way to Central Station to catch a train to Redfern. He didn’t feel like walking as the grog had slowed him down a bit. Redfern was fairly deserted, a few stragglers here and there. It was getting on dark and Tim was hungry. He hated to have to go to a take-away food place so he went to a cafe in Abercrombie Street. At least the food there was halfway decent.

  Charlie was home when Tim arrived, and was watching the News. The body that had been found was now making the headlines. It was only a matter of time, Charlie surmised, before the police started tearing Redfern apart and not necessarily looking for the killer or killers.