Villawood… Let’s stop locking people up

“I was in a deep sleep…” *CLAP*CLAP*CLAP*

We’re on an adventure, to the detention centre… play that along with electronic pop.
Today is not tonight as you extract electricity from a frog’s legs.

Disguised messages in a media protest. People eye us in the car as we drive past the RSL in Ashfield.
Hume Highway is the way, “Hooray! to Villawood.”
“Is that where the magic school bus is?”
“There’s buses there I’ll give you that.”

The Australian Government has leaked information about refugee’s who are being ‘detained’ in ‘detention centres’ in Australia to their Motherland countries, which by Australian law instantly grants them asylum because it’s putting their lives at risk.
Returning to the Motherland could mean death, and if the Australian Government wants to give out information which could be used to aid this death, then, well, that’s pretty fucked up.

The people being locked up in Australia are the ‘boat people’, people who flee from the situation they’re in to come to Australia to try to make a better life for themselves and family. These are people coming from places like Sri Lanka, Afghanistan, Syria and Pakistan. They get locked up if their caught… or if they’re really lucky the navy might crash the boats into rocks! How Fun!

(The Australian public loved this story. It’s was scary to see people get excited about other people dying looking for freedom. The original footage I saw for this was filmed from the ocean, from another boat, I wonder whose)

The Australia public is being told, which leads to the idea, that these ‘queue jumpin’ commie fags’ are ‘takin’ over our shores mate’, when in reality most of the illegal immigrants in Australia are people who have come by plane and overstayed their visa’s… a lot of those plane people are white, by the way.

So what’s happening now is the Australian government is moving the refugees who’ve had their information leaked from Villawood Immigration & Detention Centre to Western Australia, where very little happens in the way of court proceedings, due process, contact with legal aid, and various aspects on that spectrum. Essentially, they’re taking them to the middle of the desert because rich white people don’t care about poor brown people.

Anyways back to being at Villawood.


Boston Travel’s bus company is being used, maybe we could use disguises, become con artists and infiltrate government contracts as bus company employees.
It’s smoko break for the bus drivers, you can tell they’re bus drivers because they have blue woolen vests on.

Action planning time, there’s about forty of us out the front of Villawood at about 1am. I now get to be security liaison. I’m so gonna make friends with those security guards, maybe even invite them to a BBQ.
A security guard comes in a 4WD with orange flashing lights and spot lights. I wave to him,’Hello’.
He tells us to stay off the wall. ‘Don’t sit on my wall.’
Well, the wall is now a table. I use it for my notebook.

The protesters go through the concepts of ‘Arrestable and Un-Arrestable’ and ‘Friend or Foe’.

The Anarchists come with a red and black flag. The whole idea of ‘fake it til you make it’ comes along as well.

Turns out the bus drivers I saw were actually security guards. I say hello to them as well. One of them is wearing jeans.

The police arrive.
Bron and I are sitting leaning against the fence talking about the word Salient, Cloud 9 and Nimbus, as the police officer who is highest ranking, let’s call him Mr. Fuckhead for future reasons, walks around with a torch shining people in the face. He walks over to us, shining the torch directly in Bron’s face.
“You Were Here Yesterday!” he sounds like a twat.
“No I wasn’t”
“Yes you were, that’s four!”

The day before there was an action where eight people were arrested because they delayed a bus full of refugees heading to WA for about five hours. The media coverage was very supportive of the protesters. At this point the police are scared. Bron was at work.

Mr. Fuckhead walks a few steps away and shines a torch in another woman’s face. She walks away from him, as anyone would do because nobody likes getting a torch shined in their face, so Mr. Fuckhead grabs he by the back of the jumper and yells, sounding like a bigger twat.
Everybody around tells him to “Fuck off” and the police liaisons and the police go off and have a bit of a chat.

Scrawled on the signs for Villawood:

Scrawled over and around the Australia Coat of Arms:
Villawood Immigration and Detention Centre

I stood staring at these signs for a while because the protesters were having a meeting and being quiet and due to that I could overhear the copper’s conversations.

Phone rings “Mr. H____ sir, How are you sir” in a very kiss ass tone.
“In Melbourne, in Darwin… Imagine if ten of them run at ya, hahaha”
A security guard tells them that if they want coffee it’s inside. I want some coffee.
Mr. Fuckhead: “Fuckhead… Fuckhead… fuckin’ throwin’ punches… cops jumped in falling all over clean… smacks… Timmy said, he’s under the knife tomorrow… here we go, hahaha…” (This is how I’d expect to hear a story when everyone’s drunk at the pub on Friday afternoon, not by a police cunt early in the morning.)
I do want some coffee.
“That was one of the arrangements early on she said… I didn’t wanna tell her…”
Mr. Fuckhead and another officer walk away and sit in their 4WD for secret talks.

The Security Guard who offered coffee comes over and talks with us. He says he works 12 hour shifts 4 days a week, switching between days and nights, and it fucks his sleep pattern up.

5:06am, the media arrive. Late night news anchor with a bag over her shoulder and two camera men. I wonder if all the other news outlets get the report off these three people news people because they’re there first.

Not much has really happened, everybody came out to protest so early because a call was sent out saying the buses were here and just in case, let’s go.

Protesting basic human elements brings different demographics together. It’s nice.

Now the law arrives. Two black 4WD’s, a sedan, a paddy wagon, all before sunrise. A minivan, full of employees with blue short sleeves shirts and bald heads, fangs it into the compound.

The police leave their cars running so the sound drowns out their conversation. Good tactic.
Lots of cars drive through for work, nobody is really checking their identities.
Maybe that’s how we could do it, disguise ourselves as Immigration works, get inside and rescue everyone pretending we’re John Dillinger and that we can walk through walls.

Commonwealth of Australia
Trespassing on this land is prohibited
Crimes Act 1914 Sect 89
Maximum Penalty
10 Penalty Marks

The Sun’s rising. We did it. I only wanted to see the Sun rise.
Looking around there’s about 100, maybe more, people around. They can handle it so Bron and I leave to catch the train back to the city.

Turns out the police barracked one side of the road very slowly over the morning so when the buses were getting ready to leave people couldn’t get in front of them.
This all stemmed from the fact that the protesters got there really early, so everybody was a bit vague because of the early stint, and also from the fact that nobody expected the cops to come out in such full force.
The authority is scared, that’s why pushing so hard.

I’m glad there’s people who care because something needs to change.