Widderkin V. O. E. - 21. Chapter 21

Widderkin VOE.

Chapter 21.

***

The Prime Minister turned a concerned eye to his friend and, oh so astute, advisor.

"What’s your take, Rory. Until this delegation from the centre of Australia arrived four days ago, it was my understanding that the mining project was a great opportunity. Now we’ve got protest concerts and the media going crazy."

"The opportunity is definitely golden but its presentation was very carefully crafted to only accentuate the positive."

"That’s standard practice. Are you saying negatives have been overly downplayed?"

"There is land appropriation and some of it involves First People sites. You know where I stand on that. According to the presentation there is a strong case for the common good to prevail."

The Prime Minister put a hand to his head and groaned.

"Tell me what you’ve discovered. The way you said ‘according’ sounded ominous."

"Sorry, that wasn't what I meant ... I was trying for dubious."

"Rory!"

The smile the public rarely saw lit up.

"The presentation is a very professional job and until the last few days had me quite impressed. This sudden plethora of local protest and media coverage started me wondering, though, and when I discovered that the rebellion in the public service was linked I knew I had to start digging."

"You’re joking! ... No, you’re exaggerating to make me react. Rory, the public service doesn't rebel. They are ... Explain."

"The ministers for Mining and Industry, Finance, and Administrative Services sent a delegation to Alice Springs."

"And?"

"The ministers for Mining and Industry, Finance, and Administrative Services sent off a delegation."

"What? Oh. The gang of three! That does imply complication. Go on."

"The delegation, probably to give it weight with the locals, was very high-powered, but the outcome, and this is no drama on my part, was extraordinary. All five department heads involved advised against the project proceeding. Malcolm from Finance, has gone so far as to recuse himself from any involvement."

"Seriously? That’s a legal process. I didn't think it was an option for public servants."

"It's not, and his Minister is ropeable. Failing to follow a ministerial directive is normally grounds for job termination, but his Minister knows all hell would break loose if he tried that."

"Sack the most competent and respected head of any department in decades? No, he’s too clever to do that. So what has he done instead?"

"Very little on the surface. There’s a gag imposed on the three departments to keep everything in-house."

"A gag? Curious. That’s just more grist for the rumour mill."

"Normally, yes, but Malcolm is a stickler for proper procedure and he convinced the other delegates it would be in their own interest to keep to protocol. That contained things till yesterday."

"Now he’s speaking?"

"A direct request from your office overrides any department order, and he was quite plainly relieved when I turned up at his office."

"Why so?"

"He wants you aware of what’s been happening and, more importantly, what’s about to happen."

"You’re saying this is important. How does he come to have information your crafty eye has missed? That’s way out of his remit."

"The protesters contacted him soon after they arrived from Alice Springs, and after listening to what they had to say he offered to help them in any way he could."

"Why would they contact him?"

"Respect and trust, John. The Mparntwe elders welcomed his delegation and guided them on a tour of sites that would be affected. Malcolm met the young protest leader and came away feeling challenged and inspired."

"Inspired?"

"A ‘road to Damascus’ moment, to quote him."

The Prime Minister studied his friend thoughtfully.

"Did Malcolm explain these ‘about to happen’ events he’s so concerned about?"

"Yes, well his part of it. He’s going to speak from the floor when Parliament debates the mining bill. He has information which puts a new perspective on the whole project and he wants you to be forewarned. It was given in confidence so all I have are his rather worrying terms of ‘bombshell’ and ‘game changer’."

"Could you winkle any more out of him?"

"I tried, but he gave me a knowing smile and said to watch the media the day after tomorrow."

"And?"

"None of my media contacts had anything to offer, except that these protests have put their industry in a turmoil."

"Rebellion in the public service and turmoil in the media. I know you, Rory. What the hell are you going to tell me next?"

"You’re going to be offered an audience with the protest leader and his fellow elders sometime in the next few days. Malcolm's advice is that you should accept."

The Prime Minister laughed.

"That’s nice of him. I should ... What?"

"Someone is very clever. Agreement will advance their cause. Disagreement will advance it more."

"You like the idea of a meeting?"

"Of course I do. You know my views, but let’s make this work for you as well."

"How so?"

"Pre-empt the offer. Announce your interest in a meeting before they do, and it will be seen as your initiative."

"Hmm! Maybe. Public opinion is very positive about this new tech and the benefits it can bring. A meeting might be seen as favouring a minority protest over the greater good ... What? Has public opinion changed?"

"Yes and no. I spoke with my polls contact and overall support remains, but the push to leave special and sacred places untouched is strengthening rapidly, especially here in Canberra."

"I see. Well, I like your idea of a pre-emptive meeting but I’ll have to make it clear that the nation's interests take priority. We’ll set it up for tomorrow morning."

"I suggest this afternoon."

"You think it’s that urgent?"

"Malcolm's ‘game changer’ intimation is putting up red flags, and two days forewarning is a no-brainer against a bolt from the blue."

"You’re expecting them to tell us?"

"When you ask, of course. Having Malcolm warn us is clearly a message that they’re open to discourse."

"Hmm! Yes, I see.

Rory, what do you know about this young man with such tactical mastery?"

"That’s being worked on as we speak. I know his name is Woorawa, that he’s barely seventeen years old, and that until recently he was completely blind."

"A boy? I thought you said he was an elder."

"He is. Evidently it’s a recognition of respect and accomplishment as much as an age thing."

"A boy, no matter how intelligent or able, can't have such wisdom, experience or resources.

Rory, there’s more to this than meets the eye. Negotiate this meeting as a major priority but keep it as low-profile as possible. You will accompany me and appraise me with all the personal details you can gather."

***

Kieran gave Rhys a happy nudge.

"Tan’s in his element. Auntie’s with him in the community kitchen, organising food for everyone and they’re humming a kind of food chant together."

"She thinks he’s special."

"She thinks we’re all special, but the night Tan touched her shoulder and gave her the protest chant is one of her life moments."

"What's Michael doing? Is he on the boat like he planned?"

Kieran paused while he checked.

"He’s in the water, laughing his head off because Norcus keeps bumping him. The boat’s about fifty meters away."

"Has he gone any further with getting the hobby farms?"

"Not yet. He made an expression of interest to the estate agent yesterday. Corey’s setting up a secure account for him and when that’s working he’ll go ahead."

Rhys closed his eyes in part of the routine of intense concentration he used for checking his friends thoughts when they weren’t close by.

"What are you checking?"

"I’m starving. I want to see what food they’re getting ready."

"And?"

"It's Yum. Chicken rolls, a special salad, and mushroom soup."

"And how long before it's ready?"

"I didn't look ... It must be soon though. Tan was turning the heat down for the soup."

"You’re getting better. They’re about fifty meters away. What’s Corey doing?"

Rhys closed his eyes again.

"It’s coding gobbledygook as usual. See if you can make any sense of it."

It was gobbledygook but Kieran wasn't limited to surface thoughts like Rhys.

"He’s accessing a computer ... In Switzerland ... Setting up a new account for some of our finances."

"Switzerland? Why so far away?"

"... It’s extra secure."

"Oh yes, I’ve read that about Swiss banks."

"Mr B is with the elders. He’s telling them there’s nothing to be concerned about you putting Woorawa to sleep."

"Tell Mr B to pass the message that Woorawa will be wide-awake by the time the food’s ready."

"He’s only been asleep for half an hour. Is that enough?"

"Tons. I used one of Ranevargar's deep sleep patterns. Let's head to the dining room, Rhys. I’m starving too."

***

Kieran liked this eating arrangement. Burrimul had pushed two of the long bench tables next to each other to make a community setting big enough for everyone. Woorawa was sitting with Burrimul on one side of him and a spare chair on the other, ready for when Tan finished bringing in the food.

There’d been an interesting moment when Woorawa first walked in and his big smile wiped any concerns about tiredness. Now there was a nice sense of conviviality overlaying varying levels of eagerness to eat.

Tan and Auntie took their seats after placing the final offerings on the table.

"What’s that stuff, Tan?"

"It’s local bush tucker, Rhys. It's a tasty treat for when you’ve eaten everything else."

Rhys looked to Auntie.

"You have to try the little berries, laughing boy. They give a young fella rosy cheeks."

Rhys laughed but made no reply. Sparring words with Auntie was a no-win situation.

Woorawa took one of the rolls and that was the go ahead signal for everyone else.

The morning had been a chaotic but successful meeting with TV, radio and newspaper representatives, all clamouring for information.

Woorawa, accompanied by Burrimul and Auntie, had met the scrum, as Mr B described it, where they were set up on the grassed area across the entrance driveway. After watching arms waving for attention and voices applying for notice he laughed, stepped forward and danced.

Voices quietened, cameras focused, and in thirty short seconds the mystery and fascination of his movement had captured all attention.

After a nod of acknowledgement and a Welcome, he’d beckoned Auntie. A few short minutes of the protest chant had changed the air of general interest to puzzled fascination, and in the hush when it finished Woorawa had asked how they’d like to proceed. This had resulted in over two hours of one-on-one interviews, mostly with Woorawa, but also with Auntie and the elders in varying degrees. The feather cloak had been a big big feature, and several times Woorawa had happily demonstrated what he called his basic skills with a didgeridoo.

His friends had watched with awe as Woorawa spoke for his people, explaining again and again that they’d come to Canberra to right a terrible wrong.

Rhys had got so outraged at one confrontational interviewer he’d wanted to pull the plug on his microphone but Woorawa had calmly answered every accusation with dignity and aplomb. When he finished the interviewer apologised profusely and explained he’d been following strict instructions from his bosses.

Kieran ladled a second helping of mushroom soup into his bowl, then laughed when Rhys did the same with a variation.

"Greedy guts! You’re not meant to strain the liquid off and only take the chunky bits."

"Yes I am. It was hard work watching Woorawa handle all those media people, and it’ll be just as hard this afternoon watching him meet all the visiting reps."

"He’s excited. They’re coming from all over and he’s hoping they’ll march with him tomorrow."

"Of course they will. Corey paid their travel costs, as well as accommodation for anyone who couldn’t fit in here."

"Pass me the chicken platter. I like the pieces with seasoning on them. What’s Corey doing this afternoon? Is he going to be stuck in his room with that computer again?"

"No, I banned it."

"Did that make him unhappy?"

"Not really. He knows we need his special way of looking at how everything’s going ... Something’s happening. The Centre manager’s really excited."

Burrimul, food forgotten, was on his feet and rushing for the door.

"Wow. The Prime Minister's office is on the line, wanting to talk with someone official. I’m going to listen."

Eating stopped, well most of it, and looks exchanged at Burrimul’s precipitous exit.

"Well?"

Kieran was giving Burrimul too much attention and help to answer.

A few minutes later Burrimul returned.

"Malcolm’s strategy worked. That was the Prime Minister's office and he’ll be here to talk with Woorawa at five o'clock this afternoon."

"Sheba! Here at the Centre? For real?"

"They’re calling it a gesture of goodwill, Rhys, and they would like it to be low key and personal."

Woorawa's eyes widened.

"Does that mean just me, Uncle?"

"It does for the talking, Woorawa. He’ll have an aide, and he can't go anywhere without a security retinue so we’ll match that with Auntie and Kieran and myself."

"Woorawa, this is a big deal and I’m going to have Ranevargar watching as well."

"Thanks, Kieran. The High King’s idea is really happening. I hope I can make it work."

"It will work. You know it will. Just forget about it till he arrives and enjoy the afternoon. Did you know Corey helped Auntie organise a dancing choir from Western Queensland to make things interesting?"

"They dance while they sing?"

"Ask her about it. I know she expects you to be involved."

"I can't keep up."

***

"We’ll leave the vehicles here and walk to the rotunda, Rory. You’re sure it's a good observation point?"

"According to the plans we accessed there’s a clear line of view to most of the area through lattice panels. There are so many people I don't like our chances of remaining unobserved for long though."

"We’re early and we shouldn't intrude on any cultural events ... It sounds interesting."

It certainly did and that interest peaked as they casually approached and entered the rotunda. A roar of laughter and applause drowned the muted backing of didgeridoo playing.

"Rory, this is major gathering, not a simple meeting with a few dignitaries."

Rory looked to the leader of the security team.

"The dignitaries have come from all parts of the nation, Sir, but most of the people are locals making them welcome."

Hush, as riveting in its own way as the applause and laughter, settled as a lady climbed to stand on a picnic table.

"Good grief! Look how old she is. I hope she doesn't fall. Do we know who she is?"

"I have no idea, but the boy passing her the microphone is Woorawa, the protest leader we’re meeting in twenty minutes."

The Prime Minister said nothing while the distinctive timbre of the First Nation language addressed the gathering. The language changed to English and, after a thanks for Welcome, launched into a discourse about a dream walker arriving with stories for the protection of Country and People.

"What is a dream walker?"

"I have no idea, but look at the people on the benches. I’ve never seen such a gathering of First People leaders."

With a degree of reluctance the Prime Minister shifted his attention from the spirited old lady. When Rory noticed something it was always sensible to see why.

Rory was right – in spades.

There was the world-famous doctor who headed the First Nations Land Council, the professor who fought so effectively to promote and revive indigenous language, the so-called legal warrior, the battered features of the singer who produced the heart-wrenching songs about his troubled life.

"I think they’re here to see the old lady, Rory. See the way they’re looking at her."

The Security head looked up from his Info tablet.

"I’ve done a search on First People from Alice Springs area and I'm certain her name is Auntie Arika. She’s described as a wise woman with the gift of words."

"Auntie Arika? I know that name. I think she was a controversial figure thirty or forty years ago."

An amplified hand slap jerked all attention to the tabletop and a compelling voice sounded.

"I counselled we should only whisper against the storm, but then the blind boy who sees with new eyes asked me to stand with him.

He took me to a place I have never been, and he taught me a song I had never heard. Sing it with me today and stand with us tomorrow."

She beckoned and the boy nimbly leapt to stand beside her.

The Prime Minister thought that the imagery of age joined with youth was an impressively effective gimmick, strengthened when old hand grasped young and lifted in invitation to everyone watching.

Two voices began a soft chant and for a few short moments the Prime Minister smiled at this new level of gimmickry.

The sound strengthened, people stood, swelling the haunting rhythm to a crescendo of compulsive engagement. The Prime Minister, almost mesmerised, watched the boy and then the old lady add movement, watched the people join in and, feeling his own urge to respond, turned to Rory who’s head was rocking gently.

Into sudden and surprising silence the old lady gave thanks and was assisted from the tabletop.

"She’s amazing, Rory. I’m beginning to understand why these protests are so effective. I have never experienced anything quite like that."

"This is the first time you've heard it? It’s called the protest chant and it went viral several weeks ago."

"Viral? This protest is known all around the world?"

"The chant is. It’s association with this particular mining project is less likely to be understood."

"I can't get it out of my head. I need to rethink my approach with this boy elder. How long before we officially arrive?"

"Just over fifteen minutes, but that might be moot because we’ve been noticed. He’s heading this way right now."

The Prime Minister watched another boy give the dark lad a gentle punch on the arm then share a smile.

"The old lady is with him, and look at that cloak. The man must be a full elder. They’re not hurrying. Maybe they were going to use this rotunda to relax till we arrived."

The dark lad lifted his head, nodded with a sense of recognition.

"They definitely know we’re here. Will we walk to meet them?"

"No, Rory. We’ll greet them at the entrance. We asked for a private, informal meeting and this is eminently suitable. Arthur and Samuel can stay in the rotunda with us and the other four can keep a discrete watch from close by."

The four security men moved outside and the Prime Minister motioned Rory to stand with him.

The dark lad, now only twenty metres away, lifted a hand in greeting then, as if startled by something, looked at his friend. The moment ended and with a few quick steps he caught up with the elder and the old lady as they turned to see why he was lagging.

The Prime Minister, now in full attention mode, read it as a sign of nerves and raised his own hand in welcome ... No, the acknowledgement that came was relaxed and forthright, and very focused. The Prime Minister, skilled at making snap judgements, liked what he saw and quickly scanned the other three, now only ten metres away.

Good grief! The old lady had disconcertingly piercing eyes. The elder presented with an air of dignity and self containment. The friend was – a friend. From college according to –

motion and a strange groan from the side ended the appraisal.

Heads turned.

In the moment before he was wrestled to the ground, the Prime Minister caught a glimpse of one of his guards, gun in hand, collapsing to the grass. In seconds the three remaining guards were barricading the rotunda entrance and Samuel, his own gun in hand, was yelling at the four approachees to freeze on the spot.

Rory took charge.

"It’s a medical incident, Samuel. Put your gun away and see what you can do to help.

Arthur, stand down from the Prime Minister and call an ambulance in case this is more than a fainting episode."

Rory helped the Prime Minister to his feet then looked, first to where Samuel was moving his colleague to the coma position, and then to the four onlookers.

"Prime Minister, go with Arthur while I do what I can to retrieve the situation with these people."

"Quick thinking, Rory. All I had time to register was a glimpse of that guard falling to the ground and then Arthur tackled me. What’s his name? I don't recognise him."

Rory didn't recognise him either but that was Arthur's purview. Right now he needed to attend the four watchers. Good grief! They were still motionless from Samuel's yell.

He rushed to engage them. Who to address? Instinct said the older male but he dismissed that.

"Hello, Woorawa. I’m Rory, the prime minister’s aid. I'm sorry about the yelling and the drama, but we need to keep clear. The security man has shocked us with some sort of episode."

"Have you called an ambulance? He’s not moving."

Rory, relieved and impressed by this concerned but considered response, answered in kind.

"Samuel has full paramedic training but – "

"Let’s move into the rotunda, Rory. We don't want a crowd gathering and obstructing the ambulance."

"Yes, of course."

Rory, taken aback that the lad was ahead of him in reading the situation, blinked and walked in step to the rotunda.

***