The first stop on my tour of Aus was Darwin.  We landed at 1am and were met by Cameron's aunt Di.  We all crashed out, and in the morning Cam and I went on a walking tour of Darwin city.  We noticed that cyclones had wiped out all the military installations and government buildings, even the church which had been taken over by the military in refuge.  We joked about the wrath of mother nature.  

We walked down a hill to see the WWII oil storage tunnels and discovered a squatted space with a tent in the trees, uninhabited.  We finally got to the tunnels and had a wander through them.  A friendly guide gave us the official line about how necessary they were to prevent supplies being bombed by the Japanese.  The tunnels took many years, were way over budget, and never got filled with oil before the war ended.  The military wanted to complete them "just in case" but the government said no.  Now they are just an embarassing tourist attraction.

We wandered down to the wharf and stopped in the tourist info centre to escape the heat and humidity outside. We laughed at the big stuffed lioness on display... a sample of the famous big cats of Australia...  Then we got sucked into the pearling exhibit.  The fellow at the counter seemed like he had a mental disability, and was struggling to express what he had been told in his training for the job; mainly that the exhibit was not sponsored by Paspaley Pearls, despite the fact that they were mentioned so often.  We should have taken that as a hint, but we were new to this tourist business.  It was, in fact, one giant advertisement for Paspaley, including a family history.  

We went back into town and hired a car for the trip to Kakadu.  On the way, we stopped at Window on the Wetlands and got some of the history of the plants and animals in the area.  It is a big flat plain that floods regularly, which makes it perfect for growing rice.  

Then we stopped at the Adelaide River Queen Jumping Croc Cruise.  There was just one other couple on the boat which seated 120, so we all got the best view, and we each got a turn feeding the crocs.  The guide told us that they were as intelligent as most dogs, and you could see them playing games with the big hunk of meat on the end of the string.  The guide would drag the meat in the water until the croc came for it, then lift it out to get them to jump.  Sometimes they would pretend to lose interest and turn away, knowing that she would lower the meat into the water again.  They also knew that they had to do three jumps, and on the third, they would get the meat, so they mostly did the smallest jumps they could get away with.  There were a couple of impressive ones though, with most of their bodies out of the water.  From the lower deck, you could see the yellow scales on their bellies as they leapt out of the water.

We drove on to Jabiru, the tourist complex built by the uranium mining company, and named after the large black stork that lives in the wetlands.  We had a cabin booked because it was too hot and wet to camp.  We went to the aboriginal cultural centre in the afternoon.  Many of the names on the educational material had been coverd over because the person had died.  I noticed also that the area was considered sacred.  The word 'sacred' was often used together with the word 'dangerous'.  In the dreamtime stories, the places were created when the spirits misbehaved, and as punishment they had been turned into pythons, or big rocks, or high winds that still lived there.

That night the airconditioning went off in the cabin, and all the doors and windows were shut.  I woke up suddenly feeling like I couldn't breathe.  I staggered to the door and opened it, hanging my head out like a dog in a car, panting.  We got the aircon going again, and all was ok, but I realised what it must have been like for the nomadic tribes whose only relief was a feather fan.

The next day we went to Ubirr to see the rock art.  There were paintings tens of thousands of years old, describing the size and variety of wildlife, and the dreamtime stories proscribing the behaviour of the tribe.  We came across a painting of the rainbow serpent, the creator of life.  The information sign said that the aborigines believed that it was painted by the rainbow serpent to remind them that she had been there.  An american couple walked up behind us, "looks like a rust stain" he said.  I explained that it had been painted by the serpent herself.  The woman replied, "not very talented, was she?"

Down the same wall a bit further was a painting of a stick figure with 'bumps on his bones'.  It was a cautionary tale about someone who had disturbed the rocks in the sacred area, and become sick because of it.  Suddenly the penny dropped and I realised that they were talking about cancer from the uranium in the rocks.  They knew ten thousand years ago that uranium should be left in the ground.  "Sickness Country". They didn't need to know about subatomic particles to know that it was dangerous.

In the afternoon we went to Anbangbang Billabong and walked around it until we got to a place where the water had risen over the track.  A jabiru strolled casually through the water, but we decided to turn around and go back the way we had come.  Although not technically in the 'wet' season yet, when they close the track altogether, there was enough water for crocs to live in.  By the time we got back to the car, I was nearly exhausted by the heat.  We drove to Cooinda and had a nap in our airconditioned room before going on the Yellow Water Billabong cruise.

The wildlife was out in force because the sun was going down and the air was cooling off marginally.  Tiny, brightly coloured kingfishers perched on the low branches over the water.  Two small crocs circled each other in the water, on the edge of the territorial boundaries, but our boat got in the way and one of them retreated.

The next day we got up early to catch the cool of the morning and set off on the 12k track up Nourlangie Rock.  We didn't intend to do the whole thing, and we only walked for about half an hour before it was too stinking hot to continue.  We hit the road back to Darwin at 10am.

It was Saturday night and Di was out at her office Christmas party, so Cam and I went into town to check our email and have dinner.  We looked up the website for the Network Against Prohibition, some drug law activists I knew through Justice Action, and also indymedia.  They had been expelled from the collective for being racist.  The dispute has been boiling over for nearly a year.  We went by their place and had a good talk about lots of things.  Fiona told me that she had been at the forest blockade at Protester Falls in Northern NSW, where I had camped out not long before.  She said she had given birth there, and took her 8-hour old daughter to the front lines.  It turned out that she had been part of just about every big, successful blockade in Australian activist history; the Franklin Dam, Jabiluka, and others that I can't recall.

Gary and Fiona told us about their experiences with Mick.  Gary shook his head and said that sometimes he wondered if Mick was an agent of the state, sent to disrupt activist groups because, although he seemed sincere in his activism, the result was extreme divisiveness in every group he had joined.  He said that Mick took every opportunity to 'bignote' himself.  He told us about the parliament invasion, when they had picked up Mick on the way out of pity, because he had nowhere to live.  Now he is claiming that it was a consipiracy to get him thrown in prison, despite the fact that he can't go to jail until the appeals are finished, which won't be for many months at least.

I told him that I had offered to meet with One Mile Dam, but that I had refused to meet with Mick.  He said that Mick was hardly ever at OMD, so if I wanted to just show up, I would be able to talk to David.  

The next day, Di took us on a tour of Darwin.  She showed us the archives where she works, and the old style houses, built with louvres on every wall so the house could be opened up completely or just what was required to keep the sun out and the air flowing.  Then we went to the museum and had lunch.  We saw "Sweetheart", the 6 metre croc that had been captured because he was attacking fishing boats.  They hadn't intended to kill him, but the tranquilliser had shut down the mechanism that keeps them from drowning.

There he sat, well stuffed and mounted, with a video showing his capture.  I looked him in the glass eye and felt just a hint of that primal terror that recalls the days of the dinosaur, and the realisation that this was still one of the few beasts on earth that is a predator of man.

After the museum, Di took us to One Mile Dam.  She was curious to see the place, and told us that she thought it was an itinerant population of aborigines who had been ostracised from their communities.  I was scared to death as we rolled into the sealed road.  The structures had no walls, and just a covering to shelter a tent.  To our right there was a gathering of young men, who waved when they saw us.  Di rolled the window down and called to them with a funny accent, "We lookin for Dave & Mindy, they here?"  One man strolled over and asked if we had any tobacco.  Cam gave him his last cigarette.  He pointed down to a blue, corrugated iron building and said that David was there.  I got out of the car and David was coming out as I walked to the door.  I introduced myself, and asked if we could talk.  He invited us to sit beside the house in the shade.  He had a large gut with bandages underneath, just above his shorts.  A dog circled around us.  Its head was balding and pink.  David shooed it away.  I said, "I understand that you are upset with me."  He said that he didn't look at the computer much, that Mick wrote all the emails, and showed them to him before he sent them.  He said he had never sent me an email. He said he heard from Mick about the things I had said about the collective, the picture of the woman with bruises, and that he wanted the domain back.  He talked about NAP and said that he didn't like drug use and didn't agree with what they do.  He said that Mick had shown us the proof that NAP had lied, but that I hadn't given any proof.  He said that he doesn't lie.

I explained that it was impossible for anyone in Oceania Indymedia to know what had happened between Mick and NAP but that the entire collective had changed at the time that he and Mindy had joined.  All we knew was that there was a new collective, and that Mick was singled out as the problem by many people.

I told him about new-imc process and how a new collective has to show ties to the community groups that support it.  I said that indymedia was about free speech, and that we had to tolerate opinions we don't agree with.  I said that the best thing to do to get the domain back would be to get support from other aboriginal communities or activist groups and apply to new-imc.  He said that most other aboriginal communities don't have access to the internet, and most don't even have a computer.  I asked if they could use the library computer.  He said that aborigines were not welcome in the library.  I was amazed, but Di was nodding.  He said that most communities have an oral tradition, and writing was not common.  He said that's why they needed Mick, because he was so good with the computer.  

He said, "Why don't you want Mick to be in the collective."  I said that Mick had accused me of being complicit in the deaths of aboriginal people and that really hurt me.  David nodded and said that Mick says that a lot, usually about the government, "Just another dead black".  I said that Mick was just hurting the chances of getting the domain back by attacking us.  David said that he had arguments with Mick too, and knew that he could get very angry.  He said that he was Mick's boss at One Mile Dam, and Mick did what he said.  

I asked if Mick could teach people from other communities how to publish.  He said that Mick was a very busy man and didn't have time.  He hadn't even shown David how to publish.  I offered to teach him.  He said ok.

He got up and we went in the house.  There were stacks of boxes on one wall.  All of them had the same printing.  They were medical supplies, bags of saline solution.  One was hanging above the sink.  In the sink was a dead goanna.  Di presumed that it was going to be dinner for them that night.  Clothes were crumpled all over the floor.  Mindy sat with some children on the floor, watching TV.

David brought his computer out and set it up.  He navigated the system well, and started up a web browser.  He offered for me to sit at the computer, but I said that he should do it so he knows how.  He sat down, and I typed in dimc.axxs.org.  I showed him where to click to get a publish form, and he filled it out.  He's a hunt-and-peck typist, and had trouble reading some of the words on the screen, so it was a very slow process.  I could see that it would be difficult for him to compose an entire story.

He seemed to be happy that I had taken the time to teach him how to use the site.  I gave him my mobile number and told him to ring me if he had any more questions about anything.  We shook hands and Cam and Di and I left.

 
I felt enormously relieved and satisfied with the meeting.  We went to an old army encampment and missile storage bunker site with a view of Darwin.  Di said, "You can get on your high horse if you want, but it seems like Mick is essential to that community.  I would think twice before you make any decisions."  I agreed that as bad as Mick was, it would not be possible or fair to insist that he not be involved in an aboriginal focused indymedia collective.

We went out to a spot overlooking the beach and ate kebabs while the sun set.

The next day Cam and I went to Litchfield National Park.  We had been told that it was ok to swim in the water holes there.  We went to Wangi Falls and there were no other people around.  It is an enormous pool, with two separate falls crashing onto the rocks and into the pool below.  There was a sign warning that crocs may be present, but that there is regular monitoring.  We sat in the shallow bit by the steps at first, not wanting to venture past where we could see what was below.  After a bit a family of a father and three kids came in.  The father said that there were traps for crocs, and the water wasn't high enough yet to let the crocs in, so he was confident there were none.  They swam out to a sand bar in the middle, and Cam and I followed.  I got brave and swam the rest of the way to the smaller falls.  There was a hole in the rock where the water fell on to it.  It wasn't just a shallow cup in the rock, you couldn't see or feel the bottom.  

It was magnificently cool and beautiful.  I felt again like I could just stay there forever, cruising between places of beauty.  I realised that this is what the crocs have.  They have defended their utopia against all other creatures for hundreds of thousands of years.

The next day we went on a walk early in the morning, but were so buggered from the heat, we had to skip the swimming and head back to Darwin.  In the morning, we boarded the Ghan...