Fighting against the raw prawn
04.09.2004
The once angry young man Murrandoo Yanner, out of jail and back with his people, is the ultimate grassroots politician, writes Tony Koch
THE sun is setting across the choppy waters of the Gulf of Carpentaria when Murrandoo Yanner lets out a loud cheer and begins hauling in the sleek red and blue-spotted coral trout.
He is speaking excitedly in his native language and later explains he was chiding his three Aboriginal mates, telling them his was the catch of the day and they were useless hunters and gatherers.
Yanner, the once angry man of Aboriginal politics, loves it up here -- the environment, his people, catching fish, laughing, chattering, pointing to nearby Mornington Island and telling stories of the significance of this creek or that headland.
At 34, his 185cm frame ripples with muscle, his stomach a washboard six-pack. His head is shaved and he is back to his trademark goatee and moustache.
Yanner has kept a low profile since his nine-month stint in Townsville's Stuart Creek prison for an assault conviction ended last October. But it has not been wasted time.
``I had time to think in there and appreciate the people and the things I really missed,'' Yanner says.
``That's why I chose to come back to my wife and kids in Burketown and spend more time with them instead of gallivanting all round the country and fighting everybody else's battles.''
But politics is addictive, and since his release Yanner has become a leading advocate for indigenous participation in the $80million prawning and commercial fishing industry in the Gulf of Carpentaria.
Aboriginal traditional owner groups this year won a 10-year legal battle to get recognition of their native title sea rights in the lower Gulf.
The litigation was initiated by the Lardil, Kaladilt, Yangkaal and Gangalidda peoples and defended by the federal and Queensland governments, Pasminco Mining, pastoral and fishing interests.
Yanner now wants the prawning and commercial fishing industry to recognise that the court victory entitles the Aboriginal owners to a share in the bounties that their waters provide.
Specifically he wants jobs and financial returns or royalties in the same way that mining companies co-operate with traditional owners.
``There is more than 95 per cent unemployment on Mornington and nearby communities. and this is the chance to alleviate that social inequity and get involved in real business,'' Yanner says.
``The seafood industry and the various governments now have to recognise our rights and come to the table to talk this through.
``Our preferred position is for the lower Gulf to be declared a marine protected area, with agreement on the land use to be nutted out among all stakeholders, including the commercial and recreational fishers and mining interests, as well as government.
``Failing that we intend to push on with discussions involving environmental groups, including the World Wildlife Fund and the Natural Heritage Trust, to have the whole of the region declared a marine protected area or a marine park.''
Yanner's main complaint is that the Gulf prawning industry, worth more than $60million a year, does not employ a single Aborigine.
The industry began on Mornington Island and the workforce was almost exclusively indigenous until the work was transferred to Karumba, on the mainland.
``They (the prawners) have been coming here and raping the resource for decades and not putting a cent back into the economy of the local people who are desperately poor and unemployed,'' says Yanner.
``The mining people are able to provide jobs and opportunities, but the fishing industry has never made an effort. Shame on these gammon fishing mobs.''
Yanner has also asked the Queensland Government to follow the Northern Territory and allow crocodile safaris where tourists pay $30,000 to shoot or harpoon a trophy animal.
He said the crocodile safaris made sense -- the animals were in near-plague proportions in local creeks and rivers, and foreign hunters were desperate for places to go.
``Crocodiles -- I go out and kill the bastards and eat them, and everybody is missing out on income,'' he says.
``We need real industries, not guinea-pig stuff. The Beattie Government needs to sit with us and sort these things out.''
Yanner said the last two years -- and particularly his time in prison -- had given him the opportunity for reflection.
``I work two days a week on CDEP (community development employment projects) and spend the rest with my wife and children,'' he says.
``I feel I now have my priorities right. I take my kids hunting, camping, fishing. My family and friends, that's what's important now, and getting opportunities for the local people here from this sea rights claim.''
Yanner admits he still harbours bitterness towards some police but says he wants to get on with his life.
``Before I went away, those cops in Burketown were at the school one day playing cricket with the kids, including my boys,'' he says.
``That night they got reinforcements in and raided my home again and found the pistol in my bedroom and the shotgun in the cupboard.
``I said to the copper: `How can you expect these boys to have trust in you when you suck up and play cricket with them and then come around at night kicking down doors and waking the house when people are sleeping and finding just crap anyway?'
``It was the same when they took my young brother off to Mt Isa. They stopped halfway over and dragged him out in the cuffs, and gave him a flogging. That's a dog act. They want respect, they should learn to act like men.''
Respect is important to Yanner. At home in Burketown he would never pass an old Aboriginal woman in the street without stopping and speaking in her language about her children and family.
At times like this he speaks quietly, remembers everybody's names, the recent events in the lives of their families, such as funerals or someone going off to jail.
In many ways he is the ultimate grassroots politician.
He genuinely loves his people, despises injustice and inequality, and is prepared to fight and speak out for what he believes in.
His intellect and humour are engaging, and in the 15 years I have known him, I have never seen him challenged by another indigenous person. Plenty of times by whites, but never a black.
After the fish have been cooked and eaten, he jokes when I tell him my son is coming to the Gulf next month on a camping trip, saying it would be handy to have along a big strong lad if there was trouble at the Burketown pub.
``We could get him into a proper old brawl with them rednecks,'' Yanner laughs.
``Give him a trip he won't forget -- you know, back four or five times for court appearances.''
