I was running late. Nothing new there, but on this holiday, sometimes you want to be on time. On this day, it was only the markets. More to the point, Sommieres turns itself into one big market, and there was much to explore. I got waylaid reading cards. I needed to be done. The proprietors of the Hotel de L'Orange had provided me tools. First, Tom had garnished me with a large crystal ball. Then Liz presented me with a huge obsidian egg - a glorious item which has the ability to ground everything and everybody. Awesome implements, but it meant I had to keep reading. It would be rude not to.
I finally made my way down the hill, into the town square. Finally, shopping, although there were lots of food stalls - this did not please me. The night before I had woken and had to have a little vomit - too much fat in the diet over too many days.
Regardless, I walked on, buying a couple of scarves along the way.
It was then I ran into Tish, one of our group, who was in some distress, crying.
"What's up?"
She looked inconsolable. "Have you heard the referendum result?" She started crying again.
Obviously not what she had hoped for.
I stood, holding her in the centre of the Sommieres street, rubbing her back.
"I got you."
"But how?..." she sobbed.
"Because some Australians are mean-spirited, selfish, short-sighted, ignorant arseholes."
I probably didn't articulate it quite as succinctly, but that's what I'm thinking now.
Arseholes.
It's fucking embarrassing.
Especially when you're overseas - not that our little, but important referendum is of any news here in the South of France, but the waves will reverberate globally in time.
Small minded, selfish arseholes.
Another one of our group and I took Tish in hand and found her a glass of wine, where we chewed the fat. We were all upset. In our group, nobody had voted No. None of us were aware of people voting no, or if we did, they were outliers.
Then again, most of us live in an inner-city enclave, or a part of the leftish factions in larger country towns.
How fucking hard does it have to be? You look of the groups that get a voice in parliament - oil and gas companies, gambling companies, pharmaceutical companies... and you think that a group of people, who's families have been on the land for 60,000 years don't get to have more of a say in how their lives are run (and please don't give me that they have a voice through their more than likely white, conservative, male parliamentarian - like approachable much?)
We're already decades behind in making some reparations to the indiginous community. And now this.
In the words of Jacqueline Maley in The Age today, "Australia tells First-Nations people they're not special. We will not give you what you asked for. "
I've seethed enough. I'm on holiday. I will not hide my disappointment.
Besides, I have enough to grieve at the moment. I'm leaving Provence tomorrow. This has sent me into a spin. Falling in love is a dangerous thing.
Besides, this time next week I'll be back in Australia.
If we have people like this in our country who don't have the foresight or decency to see what a powerful and healing first move this could be, why would I want to return.
No comments:
Post a Comment