KASAMA Vol. 14 No. 1 / January-February-March 2000 / Solidarity Philippines Australia Network
echoes of history
the walls cast a long shadow
at Kinchela and Cootamundra
and history has a tale to tell.
oh little child, how they imprison
you still, your little hand-to-mouth
figure horrifies the UN halls
as did the British Select Committee
in 1837, 'protection, seclusion,
salvation', the outcry of the day,
so people wonder why
in the year 2000 could we,
enlightened citizens glorify
mandatory sentencing still.
it's Dickensian, barbarian,
Australian! i shudder, i shiver
at the long hand of the law,
i hear footsteps echoing in my mind,
see images of yesterday's hunt -
heavy steel boots surrounding the humpy,
alien troopers bent on
stripping native identity away!
words reverberating...
DEATHS IN CUSTODY
mirroring past policy:
'protection' or dispossession;
'assimilation' or annihilation -
words crumbling, truth disintegrating.
back track, fast forward,
a case study now in view:
aborigines from the country
scattered away; jobs in the city
is why they wanted to stay
so first they squatted,
then they were evicted;
next they were arrested,
then they were rescued -
conscience tickled,
land grant offered,
self determination's showcase
not too long ago and
hope was revived,
home at last, or what's left of it,
movie of that time:
'Bringing them Home!'
that dream nearly in tatters,
with the rat holes and broken walls,
taps with no water,
lamps with no lights -
some goons smashed toilets and
staircases to scare tenants away,
some were bribed,
others were lured to designer homes
and a swimming pool to boot,
if they promised to leave the 'hellhole'
of their house,
'black against black',
an elder once warned
(influence of 'assimilation'?),
and caught in a moment of weakness,
some tenants hurriedly fled,
brochure in hand
and children in tow,
but loneliness beckoned
them back to 'the Block'
but the door was locked
and the passage was blocked:
'no room, no room, go back!'
the landlord declared, so sadly,
on the bare ground they lay,
looking pensively
at the bright stars above,
dreaming of the night
when the air was free and light,
when they roamed around,
when they cared and shared...
and now, it's the red herring
and the scapegoat
being used to win the day -
the used needles,
the shivering, shrivelling young shadows
to-ing and fro-ing in the back lane,
trading or injecting, living and dying
in the only place they could call home:
'the Block'!
(white pushers are there too!)
despite the tragedy,
oddly there is still community
who could laugh at this circus,
though their soul is invisible to us,
they are flesh and blood too:
they cry, hug, scream, loot, kiss,
sing, dance, make up,
talk 'round improvised campfires
in the dead of night,
others dream about open country
over 40,000 years ago
while they nurse their damaged pride
and broken dreams
inside their battered house,
their meandering thoughts occasionally
disturbed by sirens blasting,
men in blue running,
taking people away,
sounds grim, you say,
but no matter, on 'the Block',
they want to stay,
if only we could all bring back
the dream of yesterday.
sadly, the Olympics is near,
the Koori company is here,
and it wants everyone to hear,
get this message loud and clear:
'the poorest of the poor
we want to clear away but
only those who can afford
the new rent can stay!'
deborah wall
'The Block' bounded by Eveleigh, Vine, Louis and Caroline Streets in Redfern, Sydney is a housing project funded by the Australian Commonwealth Government
About the Author: Deborah Ruiz Wall is convenor of the Filipino Women's Working Party, a SPAN member and a regular Kasama correspondent.
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