The 8.30 South Morang train was equipped with the usual suspects - cleaners about to start a shift, students with their nose in a book, the last of the office workers from the late shift and those who've been out for a Tuesday night beverage for what ever reason. The carriage had many young people. Georgie and I, both in our forties, blended in well. As we have done after many a Tuesday night book group, we started to put the world to rights. The normal topics of conversation - Georgie's young children, what I am writing, how Thom, Georgie's husband, is going at work, what is going on with Lachlan. Georgie and I have been friends for over ten years. It's like that.
We pulled into Southern Cross Station. Two ticket inspectors boarded the train.
The militarisation of our public officials is worrying - the men, both in their thirties, had wide open faces. Well fed country boys, They would have been star ruckmen of their respective footy teams. Their demeanors were professional, friendly and pleasant, despite the prototype storm trooper uniforms they were wearing.
Georgie and I handed over our Myki cards without them asking. There was some light banter between us - a friendly conversation. As I said, these men, despite their semi-odious task and worse reputation, were pleasant, friendly and professional.
Our tickets were scanned and we were left alone.
Behind us sat two youths of African descent. A young man and woman, both in their late teens and early twentie. The woman appeared to be in the thrall of the young man, who slouched under his hoodie and wore a scowl.
When it came time to have their tickets scanned, neither had the appropriate tickets.
It was interesting to watch what went down with the two, both in action and deed from both sides.
The woman happily complied with the instructions from the inspectors. Yes, she had the wrong ticket. She provided the documents which were asked of her. She was pleasant, compliant - almost apologetic.
The inspectors treated her with courtesy and respect. They weren't overly officious or condescending. They were just doing their job.
The young man, however, was not compliant. He remained sullen, barely acknowledging the ticket inspectors, who despite repeated requests from both the inspectors and his girlfriend, refused all requests for identification and information.
By the time we reached Jolimont, the inspectors, who had now doubled in number, had called for police to intervene a few stops down the line.
I got the feeling that the young man was making his plans to run or pounce. Fight, flight or freeze. Could this be his reactions.
There were many things running through my head as I witnessed this scene.
Firstly, watching the inspectors, I was impressed by their professionalism. I've ridden the Melbourne public transport system for years. I've seen the good , the bad and the downright scary. These guys were very fair. They remained even tempered. There were no threats, harassment or domineering behaviour. The rest of the team had a similar approach. Textbook in approach, nothing to get in contact with the media about.
As for the young man, I had so many questions. Why wouldn't he comply? What would have happened if he had the same approach as his girlfriend? Did he feel picked on or isolated? Why did he feel he had to behave in such a manner? Was this an isolated occurrence or something that had happened before? (Saying that, if he had a valid ticket, they would have walked on).
I alighted at North Richmond station and didn't get to see how this situation played out.
What really stuck, however, was what would it be like to be this young man of African descent. With all the crap that is going on about African gangs, the pure bile thrown their way and the bad rap the African community is getting would there be any reason to act any other way.
After witnessing Fraser Anning's monstrous maiden speech in the senate yesterday and witnessing the thrashing the African community have been getting for the last few years, I wondered, if I was in his shoes, if I would be acting differently to him. I can't know how he felt. And okay, he was in the wrong, but if I was to be made to feel an outsider by much of the community, maybe I would be acting the same.
Today's song:
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