Perception

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-four

Well there's a little boy waitin' at the counter of a corner shop

‘What about me’ - Moving Pictures

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     One hundred and fifty odd strong we marched along the parameter of Parliament House, our signs held high. The thrum of our footsteps was the only noise we made. At first the only people who noticed were the other people using the sidewalk. No one stare out shop windows, no cars stopped to read our signs or ask what we were doing. We were as invisible as we always were, there were just more of us to ignore.

            "Well there's a little boy waitin' at the counter of a corner shop"

   The voice was so soft and reedy that at first I thought I had imagined it.

    "Who is that?" Petra asked turning her head as I did to see. In the sea of bobbing faces and waving signs it was impossible so I gave up and faced forwards.

   Another voice joined the song, stronger then the first and closer. More people in our group were looking around trying to find the songs source.

    The song grew in volume and feeling as more and more people joined in the plea. My own voice, silent up until now, as I hadn’t wanted to ruin the harmony with my caterwauling, joined the song. It fit our need so perfectly, crystalized our feeling that I could not help but join in.

   So caught up was I in the song that I hadn't noticed when the onlookers had actually started to look. They stood on pathways and cafes slacked jawed at the crowd of people passing as though we’d appeared from nowhere. A few took pictures or videos; many were on cell phones talking to who knows who.

The song finished when we did, at the grand stone staircase in front.

   The first of the cop cars arrived as the last few people were leaving. I watched from the shadow of a nearby tree as more cop cars arrived to deal with the picketing menace. Only to find the Parliament steps empty.

   That night we went to the homeless shelter. The crusty old thirty-two inch screen was placed front and centre against the wall and everybody crowded around to see. We were on then six-thirty news slot, though they didn't give out much information and the eyewitness account was flaky. One person thought it was a publicity stunt for an upcoming CD release. Others thought we were a flash choir mob, but it was a start. People had noticed and that was the main thing.

   The next day more homeless were waiting for us in the park. We were noticed earlier and the cop’s response time was faster. Sirens blared, tires squealed as cop car after cop car pulled up. But we ignored them.

    One Jack, braver then the rest positioned himself in the middle of the footpath to halt our advance. But the crowd split naturally in two, walking in the gutter when needed, and merging back together further up the path.

     There was nothing they could do, there were too many of us and we weren't breaking any laws. We weren't hurting anybody we were just marching. So they just stood and watched. Ready for the slightest hint of trouble but when we reached the front of Parliament house we disbanded as we had before.

   Jacob was riding a high from the experience. "I told you it would work!" he crowed ecstatic, "Passive resistance."

  "Just remember even Gandhi was assassinated," I reminded him acidly.

   The third day was like the second except the cops were there before we arrived and the crowd had grown so large that there wasn't enough room on the sidewalk. Many walked in the street, weaving in and out of parked cars. Passing motorists honked their horns as they to swerved but we kept marching.

     The reporters were there too. Asking people in the crowd why they were there, for their thoughts and hopes. Jacob was quickly singled out as the leader, cameras and microphones were shoved in his face but he didn’t respond.

   When we got back around the front of Parliament house Jacob didn’t give the usual signal to depart. Instead he walked up a few steps and turned to face the crowd. Reporters jockeyed for position like they were at some messed up media conference.

    He didn’t speak till everyone was silent, "We do not march for money or power. Out of hatred or fear. We do not come because we want to be heard but rather seen. We want the people of this city, this state, and this nation to open up their eyes and see us. To see the suffering of others around them and then help out.

     “Annus' act, be voted on in five days time, is an act to stop that happening. Stop us being seen. For in his mind if you can't see a problem it ceases to be a problem.

    “But we are not numbers on a page or bits of filth to be swept under the rug. We are real people. And as such afforded all the same rights as you. Many hearing this might think so what? We are noting and deserve to be cleared away. But to those I ask how secure are your jobs? How high are the odds that your work place won't be closed tomorrow or the next day? Annus' act is not just focused at us but at the future you too. If there is one thing this great depression has thought us is that no job is guaranteed.

   “So you all you who are hungry and frightened, terrified that you will not have a roof over your head tomorrow or a year from now I invite you to come down and march with us. For if you don't stand with us now to deny this act no one will be there to stand for you when it's your turn."

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The song lyrics above are quoted from the Moving Pictures song What about me a great australian rock band (just saying).