ONCE UPON A TIME it was a hot, hot, dry, dry one in Alice Springs. A Sunday. Too right.
15 Achilpa Street was chockerblock with loud rock and roll, Arrernte teenagers and their siblings. Bob Ones' speakers drummed of their own accord with full bore wattage. Apart from that and how hot it was the afternoon passed in the pleasant sedation of gunja and grog.
The door knock stilled the chatter from blackthroats and likewise wiped the grin from their faces. THEY would have known. Several eyes gestured me doorways. Can in hand I obeyed.
He was a fairly big feller, casually dressed. I eyed him and he eyed me. I don't know what Dennis thought but I didn't have a clue who he was. Then he said something about coming for the girls. What did that mean?
Which girls and where was he taking them?
A whisper from behind said it was alright. He was the Brother from Yurara Aboriginal College and had come to take them back. Three of them anyway.
That was the first time. On round up duty for the kids with weekend leave passes. Arsehole or not, I was glad to get rid of them.
A year or two later, back in red ochre country, the Alice Springs Peace Group is meeting on the North side. Four idiots and Agent Orange who's only half a one decide to make heroes of themselves and eejits of the C.I.A. (as it turned out).
Marist Brother Dennis Doherty, who I didn't recognise from before, was introduced and offered to make number six which the Devil might have thought a bit neat. The rest is history.
Kamikasi Catholics in heretical actions, attacks on Pine Gap, Nurrunger, North West Cape, the birth and burgeoning of the Anti-Bases Coalition and lots more.
And the Bruv became the coordinator and shitworker. And bravely bore the slings and arrows of lesser mortals by puting his body where his mouth is. Time and again and again and again and ......
15 Achilpa Street was chockerblock with loud rock and roll, Arrernte teenagers and their siblings. Bob Ones' speakers drummed of their own accord with full bore wattage. Apart from that and how hot it was the afternoon passed in the pleasant sedation of gunja and grog.
The door knock stilled the chatter from blackthroats and likewise wiped the grin from their faces. THEY would have known. Several eyes gestured me doorways. Can in hand I obeyed.
He was a fairly big feller, casually dressed. I eyed him and he eyed me. I don't know what Dennis thought but I didn't have a clue who he was. Then he said something about coming for the girls. What did that mean?
Which girls and where was he taking them?
A whisper from behind said it was alright. He was the Brother from Yurara Aboriginal College and had come to take them back. Three of them anyway.
That was the first time. On round up duty for the kids with weekend leave passes. Arsehole or not, I was glad to get rid of them.
A year or two later, back in red ochre country, the Alice Springs Peace Group is meeting on the North side. Four idiots and Agent Orange who's only half a one decide to make heroes of themselves and eejits of the C.I.A. (as it turned out).
Marist Brother Dennis Doherty, who I didn't recognise from before, was introduced and offered to make number six which the Devil might have thought a bit neat. The rest is history.
Kamikasi Catholics in heretical actions, attacks on Pine Gap, Nurrunger, North West Cape, the birth and burgeoning of the Anti-Bases Coalition and lots more.
And the Bruv became the coordinator and shitworker. And bravely bore the slings and arrows of lesser mortals by puting his body where his mouth is. Time and again and again and again and ......
