THE QUIET COURAGE OF FIGHTER FOR HER PEOPLE
19.12.1998
COURAGE'' is one of those indefinable, oft misused terms that covers a myriad of circumstances.
For journalists, it is a wonderful emotion about which to write, because people take inspiration from examples of courage displayed by others.
But courage is not only the exalted example of a soldier fearlessly rising from the trench and charging the machine-gun nest, oblivious to personal danger.
Some of the greatest displays of courage I have witnessed have been of a much less dramatic or public nature, but nevertheless every bit as noteworthy.
In public life, it takes true fortitude to consistently speak out for the less privileged, however unfashionable that might be. To that end, Queensland is well served with people of conscience like Ian Dearden, Terry O'Gorman, Ian Davies, Archbishops Bathersby and Hollingworth, Senator John Woodley, Judge Fred McGuire, Leneen Forde, Jacki Huggins and Gracelyn Smallwood.
And on the political scene, Attorney-General Matt Foley has continued to maintain his championship of equality, as has Brisbane's Lord Mayor Jim Soorley.
And what about former Premier Wayne Goss, who overcame a brain tumour, turned his back on politics in favour of a quality life with his family, and is now back bigger and better than ever making a contribution to public and private enterprise in Queensland.
Over the past year, one of the most impressive displays of political courage was that of National Party federal leader Tim Fischer who was unwavering in his stance against what he saw as the dangers posed to democracy and decency by the shameless One Nation party.
Fischer might be a bumbling public speaker, but as a leader and role model in the face of adversity, he stood head and shoulders above the majority of his peers. That particularly included his coalition partner, Prime Minister John Howard.
Another person, whose name would not be known to many but who has courage in abundance, is solicitor Tony Bailey. His practice is built almost entirely on working among white and indigenous people in remote parts of Queensland, ensuring that they get their legal entitlements when they are victims of crime.
Bailey is a quiet achiever and a stickler for ethical standards.
The new-found government recognition of, and concern for, the plight of victims is due almost entirely to the efforts of Bailey, assisted in no small measure by Victims of Crime president Ian Davies. They are a formidable team.
I doff my lid to all those people named above for the example they continue to set.
But one who deserves special mention is Aboriginal elder, Wadjularbinna.
This remarkable lady who is in her late 60s _ there were no official records kept of her birth _ is the oldest protester at the tent embassy on the lawns of the old Parliament House in Canberra.
Her home is Doomadgee, near Burketown, and that is where she will spend Christmas with her extended family before travelling back to the nation's capital.
There she will continue her lobbying of politicians to improve the appalling lifestyles and life expectancy of indigenous people on remote communities throughout Australia.
Wadjularbinna was one of the children taken from her parents and put into the girls' dormitory at Doomadgee and then sent out to work as a virtual slave on a cattle property when she was in her teens. No pay and no holidays for children like her.
She was married to a station manager's son, bore him four children, and eventually answered the spiritual call _ and returned to her people at Doomadgee.
OVER the years, she has been a wonderful fighter. In 1991, she organised a petition against having a wet canteen established in the community, and won. She has confronted police, politicians, mining executives, black and white leaders, and continually pleaded her case _ that Aboriginal people deserved to have their own land and self-determination free from white domination and the evil of alcohol.
She has run foul of men in her own community, but Wadjularbinna's fight is for the women and children, and neither threats nor assaults will divert her from that cause.
She fears no one, and draws on quotes from the Bible to demonstrate how unchristian has been the treatment of her people since white men first set foot on Australia's shores and claimed the land as their own.
As the oldest _ and most erudite _ protester on Canberra's manicured lawns, Wadjularbinna has become something of a novelty for southern media. But she plays them on a break, enchanting anybody who stops to listen to her with her special brand of sincerity and commonsense.
This is a grandmother, a woman who at her age should be sitting back and enjoying her grand children and great-grandchildren, telling them stories of her youth and giving sage advice on life.
But that is not the lot that has been cast upon her.
It is necessary that she brave the elements of Canberra in the hope that some day, someone in authority will listen and act.
Just a thin old Aboriginal woman who spends her life wondering what it is about being born black that consigns her people to the dustbin of life.
But she cheerfully continues her fight, ever forceful, ever dignified.
That's courage
