Freedom Ride Journal Entry 9 July 2000
The Freedom Ride approached Grafton Jail all bedecked with flags and
banners through an avenue of old jacaranda trees. For three days I had
been meditating on jacarandas, looking up through the foliage to the
sky, seeing light shimmer on the fine leaves.
My companion in rap, Robin Cook, and I sat on the roof of Peacebus.com
in our folding camp chairs like Eastern potentates on a royal elephant.
As we approached the gate we cranked up our horn and announced the
arrival of the Freedom Ride.
The sound was clear and far reaching. "Freedom is coming," I announced
and then screamed "STOPPPPP!" as the banners nagged on a jerry-rigged
Optus cable. The arrival of freedom was somewhat delayed there after as
we battled with jacaranda branches, weaving down the street like a
convoy avoiding torpedoes, pushing cables and branches away with a
bamboo pole.
We had announced our intention to do a Jericho and a local new s camera
had shown up for the call. The Grafton Jail Governor, Doug Stanton,
contrary to his stated intention, was standing outside the gate with
other warders, all in spick and span in their uniforms like a guard of
honour for the show. He gave me a big grin when I waved to him.
Seven times around the jail we had promised. But the first lap was a
battle. The jacaranda branches grabbed at our rig like demon claws.
Eventually a huge old jacaranda out back of the jail and near the
hospital defeated us and we had to take down our big banners, re-rig and
carry them on foot.
Difficulty in the beginning, an obstacle in our relentless roll towards
freedom. Were these claws the last grasp of that old rigid Grafton
conservative style that backs the Drug War because its what proper
people ought to do. "Drugs is what the trashy classes do." Another
delusion. More fear, ignorance and alienating judgement. Meanwhile youth
suicide and dug deaths soar. We were determined not to be entangled in
that.
What does one do on a fine afternoon day while sitting outside a jail on
the roof of a bus waiting for a ground crew to re-jig? One could be
dismayed about our mishaps, worry about the assessment any measure of
our madness might reveal. Or we could light up and laugh. Which we did.
Here was true freedom! What grace!
The Freedom Ride got rolling and Robin and I found voice.
"Prisoners of the Drug War, you are not criminals. Nor are you not
forgotten. You are pharmo-political prisoners of the Drug War. Our aim
is to end the drug war, release the prisoners, wipe the records clean of
drug convictions and compensate those whose lives have suffered because
of these bad laws."
Robin's drum was relentless. The PA bounced of the blue stone walls and
roof tops. At times his rhythm found counter point in echo. We took
turns Drug War rapping on the mike, posed for photos, waved at our
friends and supporters and cruised round and round the walls, feet up on
the Big Joint, laid back and laughing.
My magic moment was the vision of Robin's so expressive actor's face,
looking into my eyes and dropping his jaw, grocking how extraordinary
this moment was.
Jab was keeping count of circuits with chalk marks on the dash board.
Just as well, I soon lost count.
With each time we went around, more calls and shouts were heard from
within the jail. Tension was palpable and building. "Stand by your
brother, stand by your sister. The War on Drugs is over if we want.
Hands on those walls, let's bring them down together. Freedom is
coming."
When we finished our circuiting at the gate, a great roar was coming
from behind the walls. Governor Stanton was grinning broadly. The walls
had not come down.
Not yet, that is. All magicians know that magic happens in its own time.
We had invoked Jesus, Buddha, Ghandi, Mandela, Lenin and Trotsky and all
the ancestors who had spoken out for freedom and worked for justice. In
particular we had invoked the men and woman in this land who had fought
tyranny and worked to transform a convict colony to a nation proud in
the "fair go".
Powerful rituals had been performed, powerful names invoked. Now we must
wait, patient yet fiery, humble and active. Ready to serve.
I was pleased to shake Doug Stanton's hand and thank him for his
cooperation.
Our last message to the prisoners was that we were going to light
lanterns down the street in Jacaranda Park (the park in Grafton with the
least jacaranda trees) to light lanterns and bear witness for all the
prisoners and casualties of the Drug War.
Light lanterns we did and circle our wagons too. A camp fire was lit in
the washing machine innards that served us a brazier outside NSW
Parliament in the Domain Gardens during the NSW Drug Summit. How sweet
sharing food and passing the joint with the camaraderie of success.
With our bellies happy with hot pudding and custard, the boys, Rubin and
Felix, asked for stories. I told them the story of the Shambala warrior
prophecy and then the story of the Eureka Stockade. I had promised to
tell the Eureka story as we travelled, and standing under the Southern
Cross together, my crew were demanding it. That day I had sported a
Eureka T-shirt.
Unlike the diggers at the Ballarat Goldfields, our camp had excellent
relations with the police. As promised by Inspector Arthur Graham in
response to our "maximum exposure, minimum confrontation" policy, we saw
nary a police officer that day. Big changes are afoot when local police
make it clear that they no longer want to be party to the War on Drugs.
Something had shifted, some oppression broken by our Grafton Jail
action. It manifested for me in "Saint" John, the gentle, former prison
counsellor, who I asked to accompany me when I went to meet Governor
Stanton earlier in the day about getting visiting rights. (We didn't get
any.)
John began to tremble and cry as we approached the jail gate. Terrible
memories from working inside jails had come back to haunt him. Self
doubt and fear immobilised him. He settled into the awareness of it and
came and stood calmly beside me in the negotiations with the Governor.
Later by the camp fire he talked of the healing our Grafton Jail visit
had brought him. May Peacebus.com heal many other jail damaged souls.
Graeme Dunstan
9 July 2000
--
Leftlink - Australia's Broad Left Mailing List
mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]
http://www.alexia.net.au/~www/mhutton/index.html
Sponsored by Melbourne's New International Bookshop
Subscribe: mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]?Body=subscribe%20leftlink
Unsubscribe: mailto:[EMAIL PROTECTED]?Body=unsubscribe%20leftlink
