BY ANTHONY BENBOW
PORT HEDLAND,
WA — Despite intense police attention, on July 18 more than 100 protesters
marched on the Port Hedland immigration detention centre and remained for
an all-night protest vigil. For more than 12 hours, protesters and detained
refugees — even though separated by police lines, steel bars and razor
wire — chanted, talked, ate, drank, wept, laughed, danced, sang and played
music together. It was a night that will stay with us forever.
This was the first big protest outside the Port Hedland refugee jail.
People had travelled from all over Australia (and a few from overseas)
to attend, many coming from the Students and Sustainability conference
at Murdoch University in Perth.
Even though the protest was peaceful, police continually harassed the
participants from the moment their buses left Perth. Cops stopped the buses
on several occasions and attempted to listen to our organising meetings.
However, we refused to bow to this intimidation and were in good spirits
as we piled off the buses.
We marched past the main gate chanting, “Lock up Ruddock, throw away
the key, we won't stop until we free the refugees”, “Detention centres
have to go” and “Compassion not detention, free the refugees”. Our hearts
lifted as we saw a group of refugees waiting for us with their own banners
and chants, which included: “We want freedom”; “Azadi” (freedom); and “ACM
mafia” (as the Australasian Correctional Management guards walked past).
Gifts were thrown over the fence, including a soccer ball. Over it went,
accompanied by a cheer. Then back and forth in a game. Notes and letters
were exchanged, wrapped around rocks. Messages were passed this way all
night.
We were unprepared for what happened next. Over the wire, came another
hail of gifts — from the refugees! Packages of freshly prepared salad,
rice, noodles, fruit, bread, cakes and sweets. “We will be offended if
you refuse”, the refugees told us.
As the weather grew colder (the police would not permit a fire), plastic
bottles of piping hot tea and coffee sailed over, along with blankets.
As we feasted, the detainees sang and danced to our music.
We were amazed and moved that people who had so little were prepared
to show such generosity. Human compassion and solidarity had survived the
crushing effects of being detained indefinitely.
The cops kept us back from the fence at all times. Neither could we
lie down for even a few minutes' sleep without being awoken by officers
enforcing the “no camping” rule.
We talked for hours to people through the razor wire, the stories of
life in detention gained a harsh and moving new meaning as they were told
by the people who had suffered it first-hand. We talked with men, women
and children — some as young as four — who had been in detention for more
than three years.
As we left — the police (some of whom were close to tears) would still
not allow us near the fence for a proper good-bye — the refugees called
out: “We will never forget you, thank you for what you have done.”
It was hard to depart.
We had managed to offer the refugees some hope and they inspired us,
giving us new strength and resolve to continue the campaign to win their
freedom. Now the challenge is to make that vision a reality. Azadi!
From Green Left Weekly, July 31, 2002.
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