Monday 2 January 2012

CAIRNS, A CITY AT WAR WITH ITSELF, PART 6

The crowd writhed and growled. Like a living creature. It was waiting. Waiting.

It was a blue sky day in Cairns. December, traditionally the start of the tropical wet season when the heavens burst with a roar sending torrential hot downpours on the city, had been very hot and humid. The crowd of over 1000 men and a few women sweltered outside the Cairns Regional Council offices in Spence Street as the humidity reached 90% by ten o'clock.

Placards dotted the writhing crowd. "KICK THE GREENS OUT!" "WE DON'T WANT GREENIES" "WE WANT CUSH" and "BURN THE WITCH!"

The protestors were tense, speaking in low voices, and watchful, their eyes looking past one another as they spoke.

A large, muscular black man, who bore a striking likeness to football legend Mel Meninga, walked resolutely into the crowd, which at first became silent, parting to let the giant through. Then something happened, no-one knew what, and the crowd erupted, surging forward, its voice rising to an angry shriek. Councillor Mervyn Mingin felt the first few fists with a sense of shock and disbelief. Even as a painful blow fell against his back making him gasp with pain, he could not believe this was happening to him. Here in Cairns. Here in front of the Cairns Regional Council building. Dazed from another savage blow to his shoulders, he stared in shocked horror as a man clothed in the workman's dark blue clothing thrust an angry red face near him and snarled, "We don't want niggers in the Council!" Then the taunts came. "Boong!" yelled another man nearby. "Coon!" shouted another voice thick with menace. A fist came from nowhere and Mingin felt the pain, the spongy crunch and felt the sensation of warm sticky fluid running down his face. There was a series of painful blows to his back and shoulders as the crowd pressed even closer around him. "Get the nigger!" he heard from somewhere behind him.

Dazed, shocked, in pain and trying to shake off the sense of unreality, Mingin went on to autopilot. He had an instant recall to when he played with the Broncos and how the adrenalin was pumped and pumping, surging and soaring, loud in his ears, during the matches. Only this wasn't a game, something said to him. Something struggled through his uncomprehending consciousness that he was fighting f0r his life. The adrenaline coursed through his powerful body. Fight for your life! Fight! Fight! Fight!

With a roar he didn't recognise as his own, he kicked out with a powerful lunge of his right leg, catching the man pressed in front of him and delivering him a painful blow to his crotch. Simultaneously he threw a punch in the face of the man to his left, then to the man on his right. He felt his massive fists connect with spongey bone and tissue and vaguely saw the aerial sprays of blood. There were many of them, at first, in his path, as he fought his way, grunting, and roaring, to the doors of the Council offices. He thought he broke someone's ribs with a few powerful blows to their stomach with his powerful legs, but he couldn't be sure as he bodily picked another man up and threw him head first back into the crowd. He could see the Customer Service Counter and the scared looking security guard standing behind the closed door. He roared for the guard to open the door and let him in, but the guard was frozen with fear. Then another man threw a fist in his face and he felt it land in his eye. Enraged, he grabbed the man by the front of his shirt and drove his other fist in wild fury into his face, smashing the bones in his nose amidst a huge spray of heavy smelling blood.
Then he picked the groaning man up and threw him bodily back into the crowd. He yelled again for the Council Security Guard to open the door and let him in, but the Security Guard stood there mute, his eyes like saucers.

Then Mingin saw KelliAnne, the Supervisor of the Customer Service Section of the Cairns Regional Council run past the Security Guard and open a single door to the right. It was the staff door that the Customer Service Officers used to arrive and leave. She motioned to Mingin to come to the door. Mingin ran, aware that a crowd of men were still around him. He made it through the door along with two other men, as KelliAnne, then slammed the door closed.

"Mervyn!" shrieked KelliAnne, as she saw one of the men lunge at Mingin with a stick.

Mingin swung around and ducked and planted his huge fist in the mans face. He fell to the floor with a loud crack. The other man ducked nervously away. "Don't hurt me man!" he croaked, as Mingin opened the glass door and threw him out to the shrieking crowd.

KelliAnne had sunk to her knees and was retching violently. The Security Guard was beside her, his entire body shaking, his eyes shocked,

Mingin fought to get his breath back, and wiped blood on his sleeve. Turning around, he spotted some of the Council staff staring wide eyed and white faced at him. "Phone the Police immediately!" he yelled. "And notify all the other Councillors." He coughed and fought for his breath again. "Notify Coucillors Lovelady, Piper, Bonbomiere, Buttonworth and Dunnysmore on their mobile phones, NOT TO COME INTO THE COUNCIL today!" Some of the staff made moves to follow his directives. He turned back to the Supervisor, KelliAnne, who was still on her hands and knees moaning above a puddle of vomit. Without thinking he lifted her up and carried her into the staff room. She was hysterical. "Arrrrng, arrrrng, yerroooooo," she babbled, trying to talk, but her brain couldn't carry the message of speech. As he put her down on a chair, she looked at him and focussed. "I HAVE TO SAVE MERVYN!" she screamed, as tears ran down her face. "I HAVE TO SAVE HIM BECAUSE I LOVE HIM, I LOVE HIM."

Mingin was shaken by KelliAnne's hysterical outburst and looked curiously at the Supervisor whom he had barely ever noticed in the two years he had been a Councillor. She was a white girl, and Mingin had only ever dated aboriginal women. As he called for one of the staff to come and look after her, he wondered briefly at human attraction.

.............................................

Councillor Doug Dunnysmore was on his way into the Council in a Black and White taxi. On account Pedro had helped himself to the keys of his car and had disappeared with it, without telling Doug when he would be back. Dunnysmore was furious as he phoned for a Black and White cab to come urgently as he had a Council meeting to attend.

As the taxi made its way from Bentley Park, Dunnysmore listened to the local talk back radio show hosted by the local shock jock. "There's over a thousand people down there outside the Council offices," the shock jock was saying. Dunnysmore turned the radio up loud and the cab driver protested.

Dunnysmore looked across at the taxi driver, a young man of Pakistani or Indian origin.

"Listen mate," Dunnysmore snapped, "I am a Councillor and there is something happening outside the Council offices. I need to know this!"

Someone was talking to the shock jock amidst a huge noise. Dunnysmore leaned forward and strained to hear the radio station. "....Mingin....injured men.....threw punches....". He could only hear a few disjoined words.

"Mervyn Mingin threw punches and seriously injured some of the protestors, is this what you are saying?" said the radio shock jock in excited tones.

There was answering crackling and heavy static and Dunnysmore leaned even closer to the car radio.

"....broken ribs...busted noses....carnage..." was all he could hear.

"So Councillor Mingin, the aboriginal Councillor, has launched a savage attack on the demonstrators, is that what you are saying," exclaimed the shock jock loudly. "He has broken several noses and someone's ribs."

This was greeted with more static and crackling and Dunnysmore leaned back and thought rapidly. From what he knew of Mingin, he was a gentle giant, not the sort who would launch an attack on someone first. Besides the shock jock had said there were over 1,000 protestors outside the Council offices and Mingin was just one man. Dunnysmore didn't require any more mental exertion. He turned to the taxi driver. "Look man, turn around at the next corner and drive me straight home. I won't be going there today."

The taxi driver nodded. "I can do that for you sir, no problems."

Dunnysmore leaned gratefully back wondering if perhaps he should get the taxi driver to take him to Pedro's house. "No, hold on," he said. "Take me out to Edmonton instead, would you?"

Hiding out at Pedro's house in Edmonton was probably the best, he thought. Besides Pedro should have a few cones of ganga for him and by Christ he needed it after all of this!

..................................................

In the Council car park, Councillor Dom Piper lay curled up on the floor of his Range Rover.
He couldn't stop himself shaking. He had seen what had happened to Mervyn Mingin. He had been about to get out of his own car when he witnessed that first punch thrown at Mingin, then someone sneaking up behind him and hitting him with a cricket bat. He had then retreated into the car, locked all the windows and peered out from time to time, disguised as best he could with Margie's large straw hat, she always left in the car. He had tried with shaking trembling fingers to call the Police on his mobile phone, but he realised with dread, he had forgotten to charge his phone and it was as dead as.

He had cried as he lay curled up and aching with cramp on the floor. He had once confessed to Margie, his wife, that he had no courage. "I've got no guts Margie," he said once. But Margie wasn't worried. "If I wanted to marry someone like Chucky Norris, I would have done so," she replied. "Instead, I wanted a soft and gentle man, and lucky girl that I am, that's what I got. I love you Dom!" Dom had felt a million dollars when she said that. Today curled up like a crying child, he felt disgusted with himself and all the negative emotions of himself, the loathing, the lack of self confidence. the poor self-esteem came roaring back. He was the scared, bullied boy in the school yard again, crying, always crying.


To be continued..............................

24 comments:

  1. Neil at work, on lunch2 January 2012 at 17:59

    I knew you were going to write something like this. Yes, "hate speech" can result in ugly violence. Cairns has been lucky, so far. That's the point...SO FAR.

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  2. A bit short this time round hey? Yeah I reckon a mob all stirred up would pick on an abo first so Mingin would have copped it. So the shock jock has his facts wrong again, well thats not unusual either.

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  3. Caroline at home2 January 2012 at 23:10

    I have just read this Terry and I note the warm little human touches you have included in amongst the hate and the dark day of violence, ie the secret love of KelliAnne, the confession of Dom to his wife Margie and her reply. You keep on doing this! Your writing consistently reveals your own belief in humanity, that all is not lost, we miserable human beings are worth saving! It is one of the reasons why I love this blog. You are tackling some of the worst aspects of human nature, corruption, hate, greed, racism, misogynism, yet you don't give up on us!

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  4. We are living in an era of "hate speech" as promoted by the shock jocks and sections of the Murdoch print media. As Neil noted above, we have been lucky SO FAR here in Cairns that violence such as described by Terry above hasn't happened. Frankly, I think it is only a matter of time before something like the above does happen. Certain sections of our population are highly impressionable and easily incited and the shock jocks play them like violins. This year is an Election year so the shock jocks will be ramping up the hate element without restraint. I note however that the local "Cairns Post" newspaper is now demanding accountability and civility in its comments section. Unquestionably this is a positive change. I've been idling away today wondering whether Terry's unflattering portrayal of the newspaper in his blog might have had something to do with the changes?? Who knows? Just a thought anyway.

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  5. Yeah Vance you got this right. The shock jock stirs all the rednecks up and gets them in a fighting mob. Then when the only abo in sight is attacked by them and fights back the shock jock blames the abo for the whole stoush. I reckon this is how it would go mate.

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  6. That freaking conehead Dunnysmore always just cracks me up hey.

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  7. You flatter me and the blog Liz. Thanks for the compliment but I doubt my blog had any influence on The Cairns Post decision.

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  8. I agree with what Caroline said. I think that bit about KelliAnn secretly being in love with Mingin and how she blurted it out because she was so frightened for him was sweet.

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  9. Mingin would be in trouble I think, if there weren't witnesses to confirm he was being repeatedly attacked. The rednecks in the crowd certainly would never admit their guilt and wouldn't hesitate to pin it all on a black man. There would be security footage from inside the Council offices showing the man attempting to attack Mingin with a stick and the Council staff would have seen enough to provide evidence.

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  10. Mingin being a murri man would get all the blame and the Cairns radio shock jock always blame our mob for everything he never says anything good about being black.

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  11. Dedicated Cush reader3 January 2012 at 16:42

    This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.

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  12. ATTENTION EVERYONE: Please do not provide comments which includes the names of any political candidate in the coming State and Council elections. I don't write my blog to provide free publicity for aspiring politicos. Thank you.

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  13. I agree with Vance on what he is saying in the blog. Hate speech such as we see today is firing up people and making them irrational. I agree that some shock jocks are playing with fire and that it is only a matter of time before we have an ugly public riot.

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  14. I reckon Id be hiding away somewhere too, buggar taking on a crowd of sparked up rednecks hey.

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  15. Shit mate Id be down on the floor of that rover crapping me duds along with Piper. Id rather be alive than be a dead fucken hero.

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  16. Christ or mighty of course a black fella would get all the blame. A riot of rednecks all fired up by a redneck sicko shock jock would blame any black fella within sight. Where are the cops with their cache of capcicum spray and tasers?

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  17. Dunno where the hell you are Liz but the Cairns Post online posts havent changed that much. You might like to go and have a gander at them. Still much the same old shit.

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  18. Had to laugh at the way Dunnysmore the conehead avoided all the crap and is off to have a few cones to calm himself down like. ROFL ROFL

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  19. Bloody fucken amazing how those coneheads all seem to slip through the cracks like fucken dust bunnies when the going gets tough.

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  20. Nifty at home browsing along5 January 2012 at 16:22

    Well done Vance. You have created an issue with serious national security consequences, being compromised by a corrupt Mayor and a simple minded shock jock. Together the Mayor and shock jock have incited the people of Cairns into believing it is only a green issue and they want blood. Could this happen in reality though?

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  21. Nifty, you bet it could happen. Easily and effortlessly. Where there is big money to be made anywhere in the world, you find corruption. Yep, even in old laid back Cairns. What do you reckon is REALLY behind the opposition to the SITE of the Cairns Entertainment Precinct hey? It's a nice hunk of sea front land and it belongs to the Cairns Regional Council. Wouldn't some developers like to get their hands on it?? $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$

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  22. Jeeez Vance bring in bus loads of coppers armed to the teeth with capsicum spray and tasers. The mob will kill that hot chicky Lovelady if they don't arrive faster than the Stig. coneheads and alcos are always the first people to piss off whenever theres trouble. You got that right hey.

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  23. Where the hell are you Vance??? We're hanging out here for the next instalment.

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  24. Anonymous above, there will be a new episode any day now. I regret I have been caught up in family business these past couple of weeks.

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