Episode 2 Camp Binbee & Ursula The Immortal
So here we are all gathered together at the Clermont Showgrounds. A motley crew of over 100 vehicles. It is a beautiful day for the Water Festival, put on by the Wangan & Jangalingu people for our benefit. It is such a relief to sleep in and not have to get up and drive all bloody day. Driving all day every day to stop pollution doesn’t feel quite right to me somehow, but we can’t all be perfect, can we? The Wangas put on a bonza show, with heaps of singing and dancing.
They even teach the whitefellas how to dance blackfella style. Very amusing!
Then out of nowhere a wild cowboy on a horse gallops right into the middle of the arena, whoopin’ an’ a hollerin’ and waving his hat around like John Wayne. There are people with little kids in the middle of the space so it is actually very dangerous and quite irresponsible. After a couple of circuits he heads for the exit but a daft woman decides it would be a good idea to close the gate on him. Dumb idea! The horse hits the gate and knocks her unconscious, then gallops off into the distance. The poor woman has to be airlifted to Mackay for tests, but she is OK.
Apparently the wild colonial boy is none too bright and has been egged on by the evil triumvirate having the love-in at the hotel. (see previous epistle)
After that episode we need a drink to settle our nerves, but neither the bottlo nor the pub will have a bar of us. They said: “Go back to where you came from”, and other less savory expressions. I must admit I am shocked. I have never had such an ugly reception anywhere else in Australia. So we are pretty glad to get out of Clermont unscathed. Fortunately, the locals are happy enough to sell us petrol to help us on our way.
At this point the convoy and me part ways. The poor voyeurs have to turn around and retrace their steps with nary more than a days rest. I certainly didn’t drive 2,8oo ks just to turn around and go home again. So I head north, further into enemy territory, heading for the Camp Binbee*, deep in the forest within Cooee of Abbot Point, the coal port owned by Mr. Adani himself. To get there we must pass thru enemy territory. There are over 60 coalmines in the Bowen Basin. The road wends its way between humongos muluck heaps and humongous piles of coal and humongous holes in the ground, for hours on end. Coober Pedy on steroids.
The Camp Binbee is set amongst picturesque rolling hills and exquisitely beautiful grassy woodlands. Such a relief to arrive in a friendly spot and stop moving. We have definitely landed on our feet. These people are bloody well organized. The place is run like a Sandinista guerrilla camp in the Nicaraguan jungle. First pick a spot out in the woods: Put up your tarp, lay down your swag. Home sweet home! Welcome to Tarp Town. Hark, the dong of the gong. Dinnertime. Every morning we have a meeting, an opportunity to choose which task we shall undertake that day: cooking, washing up, cleaning, feeding the chooks. Then we get to decide what workshops we want to do: Non Violent Direct Action training, media, banner making, abseiling, composting, ecology, whatever anyone feels like teaching. After a very intense day we gather around the campfire and sing daggy songs we have made up about Adani.
The camp could be a model for harmonious coexistence. We share all the urksome tasks, we share the bicycle, we share the cars: It’s a sharing economy. There is a garden laden with tropical fruit. There are chooks who seem content to share their bountiful produce, though the vegans may dispute that. We even have a choice of toilets: squatting or sitting. Everyone seems to go out of their way to make everyone else feel welcome. I think this place brings out the very best in people. It is really significant that we are all there for a purpose, and that purpose makes all our grievances pale into insignificance. I have come to believe that a meaningful purpose is a key ingredient for harmonious coexistence. It is not about ironing out every little issue, it is about doing something so exciting that problems forgotten, and there is nothing more exciting than rebellion.
After only one day of rest, we are thrown into a full day of feverish activity turning ourselves into sea creatures from The Barrier Reef. We retire weary to our tarpaulin homes to sleep thru the screeching owls and the eerie cries of the curlews. At the break of dawn we spring into action. Everyone knows their allotted task. We drive in convoy to Abbot Point, hoping 8 cars in convoy will not arouse suspicion. We block off the road with tape and courteously advise the approaching drivers to park their cars and await further instructions. They dutifully comply, as if we are government employees. Power to the people! Then we swim around a bit and sing some songs, then we all die a long and agonizing death, twitching and moaning in our last moments, except for Ursula: a purple monster from the deep, who is of course Immortal. She writhes and thrashes about with rage, lashing out at the approaching constabulary, making their blood run cold, no doubt.
I don’t die either, because I am a jellyfish and as the prophecy has foretold:
The jellyfish shall inherit the earth!
It begins to rain, which we love, because we are fish. Mr. Plod shows not the slightest concern at his light cotton shirt becoming completely sodden, maintaining his steely countenance throughout the entire performance. Eventually, after much argy-bargy and toing and froing back and forth, Mr. Plod brandishes his clipboard and reads out the riot act: We are to disperse forthwith or be taken into custardy. We shuffle off as slowly as we can. bedraggled wretches that we are. Meanwhile Ursula maintains her fierce defiance, wriggling and writhing and screeching as she is arrested and dragged away.
For many of us this is the first time we have willingly broken the law. We have crossed the thin blue line. Now we are Outlaws, and it feels good, it feels liberating, emancipating, empowering, and we didn’t even get into trouble.
-Ben Boyang – Central Victorian Climate Action – 9 May 2019
*There are at least half a dozen groups all fighting tooth and nail to stop the Adani mine, but only the fearless activists here at Camp Binbee are prepared to engage in civil disobedience to achieve their aim. Everyone else is constrained by their charity status. If you are a charity you can garner tax-free donations, but you must forfeit your right to participate in civil disobedience that steps outside the law, like trespassing on Adani land. Furthermore you must refrain from supporting any actions undertaken by any other group that transgress the letter of the law. Bear in mind that we have a strict code of Non-violence, including no damage to property. Pretty innocuous stuff, but the powers that be have seen fit to bring down the full force of the law on this little band of climate defenders, slapping them with $10,000 fines for trespassing, as well as suing everyone they can for hundreds of thousands of dollars.
To read the first episode see below
To follow our exploits go to:
The Guardian has published a study by The Australia Institute showing that development of the Adani mine will cost 14,000 jobs in other coalmines.
To read the article Click Here
Black Throated Finch Habitat
Coal mining in Queensland
Convoy – Episode 1
We set off from Castlemaine on a glorious afternoon: 3 enthusiastic, intrepid activists on a journey into the heart of darkness. We are not alone. Bob Brown is leading an entourage of cars from Hobart to the Galilee Basin, Central Queensland, some 2,800 kilometres away, where Guatum Adani would dearly love to put the biggest coal mine in the world. We stop every night at some big town or city. The next morning we have a rally and Bob gives a passionate speech and the local activists and blackfellas give us a rousing send-off. We spend the first night on the banks of the mighty Murray River, then back on the road, driving, driving driving further and further from our beloved Victoria, homeland of greenies, lefties and progressive types, into the unknown.
In Sydney, Pine Esera and Isaac Nasedra from Pacific Climate Warriors tell us of their sinking shrinking homelands. Dr. Kim Loo from Doctors for Climate health speaks to us all about the terrible health effects of breathing coal combined with the terrible health effects of excessive heat: a deadly combination. Adrian Burragubba from the Wangan and Jagalingou peoples explains the situation from thier perspective. His homeland is right on top of the mine site in Central Queensland. Adrian is an angry man, and rightly so. He describes Mr. Adani as criminal and an environmental vandal. We roar with applause and pledge to never let the mine go ahead.
Driving, driving, driving.
In Mulumbimby the whole town turns up: 3,000 chanting, singing dancing joyous hippies give us cheer and boost our moral. The people line the streets to send us off, hooting and tooting. Six silent and gleaming Teslas have pride of place with Bob in the first car, smiling and waving like the Pope, followed by the motley crew: 100 cars in convoy, an awesome sight. We are in a Prius so are feeling virtuous.
In Brisbane we march on Adani Headquarters and shake our fists at the empty windows. The notorious Queensland cops try to look their sternest and soon move us off the road. WE acquiesce meekly as Bob has instructed. The whole country is watching. The Murdoch Press is poised ready to pounce. We can see the headline already: Violent radical extremist Greenies run riot.
Driving, driving, driving further and further from our comfort zone.
We arrive at a beachside hamlet called Emu Park, just outside Rockhampton, Bogan Central, to an enthusiastic welcome from a phalanx of coal miners: 100 Big burly fellas and a smattering of big burly shielas, high-vis vests covered in black coal dust. Wow, this is pretty authentic. We are agog and agaste. Most of us have never laid eyes on a real live coal miner before, but it soon becomes apparent they are not here for a quiet chat. They are milling about in an agitated state. They are cross, very cross, and we, it seems are the cause. We lock horns, deploying our superior knowledge and sense of righteousness. We point out their foolishness in resisting the inevitable demise of their beloved industry.
We assure them sincerely that we empathize with their worries for their families and livelihoods, but they show no signs of being impressed. They don’t read The Age so they don’t understand us. In fact they tell us to fuck off. “This is central Queensland. We mine coal, now turn around and go back to where you came from.”
We then have our rally and our hero: Bob of the Bush, gives yet another rousing speech, peppered with insightful interjections by our mining friends like: “Bullshit!”, and “What a load of crap”. At least they are here and they are listening. We then have a lantern parade. We invite the miners to join in but they soon get bored. A bridge too far, maybe?
As the miners leave they let us know they will be waiting for us when we get to Clermont, the little town in the Galilee Basin that is our destination. They warn us we will be shunned by the town, but our friend and comrade Adrian Burragubba assures us his mob will welcome us with open arms. His family has lived in Clermont for generations, and countless generations before it was called Clermont..
As the setting sun sets we gather for a gathering. Up till now we have all gone our separate ways to find whatever shelter we could on the long and winding road. But tonight for the first time we are having a party: Singing, dancing, and drinking of wine to nourish our sense of solidarity, for soon we must leave this idyllic coast behind and head out west, into the belly of the beast.
Finally, after 10 days on the road, we arrive at our destination: The little town of Clermont, in the heart of what the local white folks like to call coal country, but it is actually Wagan and Jagalingou country. We run a gauntlet of coal miners yelling abuse ant us, but the cops are there to protect us. A welcome change to be on the other side of the barricades for once. Apparently the local pub has given them all free beer to give them courage. I would have said ‘dutch courage’ but we don’t say that sort of thing anymore do we? The Hotel has some distinguished guests: Bob Katter, Pauline Hanson, Clive Palmer and the local LNP Rep. are all sleeping in one big bed apparently, working out their ‘preferences’. The miners are actually getting quite inventive, making placards saying ‘Start Adani’ and ‘The only wilderness is between Bob’s ears’. Bob Brown says that is quite disrespectful to Bob Katter.
The Convoy is finishing up in Canberra for a humungus rally on the 5th of May.
Bob has invited Bill up onto the podium. An opportunity for a ‘Bob Hawke moment’ where Bill declares unequivocally that the Adani mine will never go ahead. If that does not happen Bob has vowed to return to The Galillee basin with more troops and not leave until Mr. Adani leaves town and never returns.
The battle lines are drawn.
No turning back! Ben Laycock April 28 2019
Next exciting instalment coming soon,
Direct from FLAC Headquarters near Abbot Point.
More info and daily updates:
The idea of the convoy is to make sure Adani and climate change is at the centre of the election campaign, so please share the updates on the Facebook page.
Thanks heaps, Ben
The Guardian has published a study by The Australia Institute showing that development of the Adani mine will cost 14,000 jobs in other coal mines.
To read the article Click Here