The Power of the Small

Cafe Locked Out

We met her in Ballarat. She was wearing a specially designed backpack that had a solid transparent back with wide airholes at the top and an odd flat base upon which a kitten sat. She told me the kitten had been abandoned, then went on to tell me about how she had been a wildlife rescuer, specializing in injured kangaroos. A volunteer job that she could no longer do because of the mandates.

While interviewing her, she teared up with the frustration, wanting to know who, when she searched a paddock, often at night, and usually alone, for a kangaroo that had been hit by a vehicle, she could spread covid to?

But since the mandates trumped reason, she’d been told her services were no longer required and frustrated she had come here to be interviewed by us. She knew that currently the wildlife organization was already lacking so many volunteers that out there, somewhere, injured animals were going to god rather than being healed in her care. And all of this for our health.

She was a gentle woman, a mother who you could mistake for being too soft for this world, and that assumption would be a mistake. Now she comes to all the marches. She takes photos, chants for freedom. But last week her youngest son joined her. He wanted to come, and he turned up dressed in a spiderman suit, bulging with polyester muscles and he was holding a ‘Free Hugs’ sign.

This march, he and his mother teamed up with me, as we escorted the “Free Hug Army” down the sides of the protest. My job was to use my megaphone to encourage people to hug and congratulate those who did.

Here comes the free Hug army, healing our country’s divide one hug at a time. Masks are slavery, hugs are bravery. And the like.

But as Spiderman tired, I lifted him to my shoulders and together we carried on.

There is a great joy in watching people conquering the communal fear, by simply opening their arms and accepting a hug.

What’s really interesting is how passionately they do hug. They close their eyes, their faces melt into smiles. Like lost people who have been found. Often they immediately move on to hug another one of our huggers, or even three. It’s a celebration. Many of them tear up.

Whenever I put Spiderman down, he would hold up his sign and the protesters would line up to hug him. They’d buzz around him. As we moved on they’d start offering him high fives as he traveled upon the perch of my shoulders.

But today, as we marched, keeping to the wings of the great herd of Victorians marching, hopefully towards freedom, I realised that Spiderman was bridging our divide all on his own.

Whether it was because he was a little boy, or whether it was also because spiderman is a favourite hero of many, he was also attracting the police, like moths to a flame.

And this metaphor is apt because it’s been clear to us all that the police have been advised to avoid  interacting with us, as to do so could see them risk getting reported and having their wings singed. Especially if they were photographed doing so, and because our side was always hunting for evidence of their humanity, we were hot wired to these photographic opportunities.

On one street the police had their backs to the empty stores and as we passed each one Spiderman offered them his open hand and most of them, despite their blue gloves, high fived him. I watched them in the reflection of the stores glass. They often initially held off, but he would keep his hand there, he would insist and more often than not they break from protocol and connect.

Later on, as we amassed outside the police headquarters, the officers were lined up before their multistory building like an army guarding their keep from Orcs. They even had a long row of mounted police. Cavalry. Did they really think we Victorian’s were going storm their castle. To do what?  Or where they setting up great photo opportunities for the main stream media to try capture a shot that would betray us, a large peaceful group of concerned citizens, as a legitimate threat. Something those people, glued to their wide screen TVs, should be scared of, disgusted with. Even consider hating to the point of wanting us taken away.

Regardless of the tension, that was palpable, Spidy and I moved along the line, close to the police, for I knew there would be no problems, but then one large sergeant, all muscles, body armour and masked up, headed straight towards me.

At first we were confused, then he start motioning to my rider and his intentions became clear. The Sergeant wanted to know if spiderman, who had his hand out to the officers, who were now ignoring him, was thirsty. 

My ward nodded and the sergeant went off then came back with a cool plastic bottle and reached his arm across no man’s land, like a half a bridge, until the other half of that bridge, our spiderman’s little arm took the bottle and said thank you.

It was only a brief connection, but that bridge was ancient.

Inside the spiderman suit was an innocent little boy, who was enjoying all the attention, and most of us, police and protesters alike had natural inclination to protect him.

If something awful had happened, a fight between the police and us, none of us, I would wager, would except this child to save us. In fact he would have immediately been spirited away to safety of the rear. Even if the people who removed him had to risk their own safety to do this. Because this is what not only people, but many living things do. They protect the young.  I have seen small birds risking their lives to attack a hawk who had flown too near their nest. I have seen parents give up their own dreams and working long hours in tedious, soul crushing jobs, so that their children can have all the things they need and want. And most of these parents, all through history, do this without acknowledgment or a reward greater than knowing that they are doing what has to be done.  Protecting the young is a pragmatic law of nature. A decree by the Gods of love, that we have been obeying since we were living in caves.

Yet now are being sold a law, for the sake of our health, that states that this young boy, must risk his own health, to protect old people. Us. And since he is too young to understand this, we are forcing him to do it.

Perhaps we should all teach him how to shoot a rifle, so if are suddenly invaded, we can send these five-year-olds to the front line so that they can protect us, and all that we own. For he wants to help. That’s why he wore the suit of his favourite superhero. 

Sometime it feels like we have collided with a parallel universe and their values are consuming ours; a reality where their morality is opposite to ours, where apathy has more value than empathy, and integrity means compliance.

But today, this one little boy, a solider of our besieged morality, wore his red polyester armour, and without realising what he was doing, he allowed both sides of our conflict to come to come together in our communal love for our children, and so therefor he proceeded to do more to heal our country’s growing divide, than all our politicians combined.    

Which begs the question, if one little boy can achieve this in afternoon and have fun doing it, “What can you do to change things?”

Michael Gray Griffith

Cafe Locked Out

From his Mother

I tell lots of ppl who are hesitant to come to the rallys that you feel connected with others who share the same values and that it is a great way to get out there meet new friends and let our voices be heard rather than living a life walking on eggshells everywhere you go afraid of speaking freely due to ppls agendas feeling silenced and alone.

Being at the protest has saved alot of ppls lives which is fantastic there's alot of ppl out there that need a cuddle and reassuring that your not alone. Everyone is on a emotional roller coaster ride living on the edge whether they are unvax or Vax as more facts and data comes out the one thing everyone is scared of is what my dad keeps telling me sometimes the cure is worse than the virus itself.

And like animals when backed into a corner we will either fight or flight. So we ask ppl which side do you want to take and most want to flight due to being to afraid to know the truth cause the confrontation is too damaging for them to comprehend they rather not know.

Or us who will fight til we die and never give up. And those who fight poses a huge threat to the Gov as we won't back down.

It's exactly the same with rescuering wildlife some will flight or fight me to survive as they see me as a predator. We are no different when our survival instincts kick in. I find the human race intriguing when put to the test but the good thing to some of those who flight with a little encouragement and support that if they join the ppl,

people power can do anything then they become fighters to seek justice.

I know at the end of the day I can tell my kids not only I was a warrior for wildlife but I also am a soldier in my own country and I did everything I can to save our future generation no matter how big or small that may be but by me being at the protest I can say to them I did stand up for what I believe in and didn't sit at home hoping someone else will do it for me. And whether we win or lose I know I did my best in making sacrifices to keep my family safe. I must say Michael this will make one hell of a story to my kids and grandkids in the future.

Jane Quarrell