George laughed delightedly and said, ‘She’s a tree-hugger, Uncle Mungo!’
‘Oh no,’ groaned Uncle Mungo, ‘that’s all we need on top of all this …’
Uncle Mungo had already phoned Sarah and explained what was going on. He didn’t want her and Mac to learn about it first from the media.
Sarah told Sam she was proud of him. ‘You’re doing the right thing, Sam, both you and George. You stick to your guns. I wish I could be there to help you, but it sounds like you’ve got Uncle Mungo onside, anyway. That’s quite a feat! Dad sends his love, and he says the same thing – you stick to your guns!’
Over dinner, Uncle Mungo had something to say to them. He looked a bit uncomfortable. ‘Sam, I started to say somethin’ to ya this mornin’ but then all hell broke loose and I didn’t finish. No – stay there, Jaz, you can hear this too. What I wanted to say was, well, I got me reasons fer not feelin’ too friendly towards illegal immigrants. A long time ago, long before you kids were born, a boat load of Vietnamese refugees landed on the coast at a station where I was workin’, over in the west. We had t’ feed ’em fer a while, an’ look after ’em, ’cause it took a few days before the authorities got their act together and came out to pick ’em up. Anyway, one of ’em was a young woman about my age, real pretty, an’ smart too, and we kinda fell in love.’ Uncle Mungo blushed a bit here, the colour of his face almost matching his hair and beard. ‘We got to know each other ’cause she spoke English, and when she and the rest of ’em were taken to Sydney, I follered her down there, and we got married.’
‘Wow! I never knew you were married, Uncle Mungo!’ said George. Sam nudged him to be quiet.
‘Yeah, well, I wasn’t always a crusty old bachelor. But I’d spent a lot of time in the bush, and didn’t get to meet many girls. Trinh was a real lady, smart, educated, and real pretty, and she seemed to be happy to come back and live in the bush with me. But it only lasted about six months. Just long enough for her to get her residency or her citizenship or whatever it was she needed to make sure she’d be allowed to stay here, and then she left, just packed her bags and shot through. I got a letter in the mail from a lawyer tellin’ me I was gettin’ divorced, whether I liked it or not.’
Sam and George didn’t know what to say, nor did Jaz.
Sam spoke first. ‘That’s pretty rough, Uncle Mungo. She shouldn’t have treated you like that. That was really mean.’
‘Yeah, it was. But what I gotta remember is that she did it because she was who she was, not because she was a refugee. I guess it’s kinda coloured me attitude to illegals ever since.’ He stared off into space for a few moments, and then said, ‘It’s funny, isn’t it, all this hoo-ha about who’s allowed to live where. I mean, who really owns any country? Who’s got more rights to a piece of land than the next bloke, eh? Everyone came from somewhere else, if you go back far enough. This planet’s just a little chunk of rock in a great big chunk of space. Arguin’ about who can live where is a bit like fightin’ over cabins on the Titanic, if y’ ask me.’
The phone barely stopped ringing all the next day. Jaz and Mungo took calls from all over the country, and some international calls as well, from newspapers and tv stations who wanted the story about the children who were trying to save a child.
By early afternoon, Brett Atkins from the Immigration Department had called back and given an assurance that no one would force them to hand over the child, and that a solution would be worked out ‘in due course’. In the meantime, Charles was being sent back out as the Department’s representative to make sure the child was secure, and therefore, they said, the child could stay at the homestead for the time being. Charles arrived that afternoon to take up his role of Guardian Angel, as he called it.
‘Aunty Lou would love that,’ said George.
‘You’ve quite put the cat among the pigeons, you lot,’ Charles smiled. ‘All this media attention has got the Department in a tail spin. They know they can’t stop you talking to the media, so they’re running around trying to work out what they can do about this child to avoid the bad publicity.’
‘So you’re not upset with us? I mean, you’re with Customs …’
‘Yes, but my job’s a bit different. We don’t lock people up and take five years to decide what to do with them. We often work with Immigration, but Customs is a different lot altogether. I’m not surprised you didn’t call me about it – you probably thought I agreed with those fellows?’
‘Yeah, we did. Well, we thought that you couldn’t really help because you worked for them, you know.’
They heard a vehicle pulling up outside. Sam wondered who it was. The press was supposed to be coming out the next day for a formal conference, where they could photograph Kalila and speak to her. Jaz was going to translate. Sam couldn’t believe his eyes when Hamid Mahsoud and another man stepped out of the car at the bottom of the steps.
‘Hello, Mister Sam, nice to see you again!’ called Mahsoud.
Uncle Mungo came out to stand beside Sam. ‘Sorry,’ he said gruffly, ‘but the media conference is tomorrow. No one’s givin’ any more interviews till then, mate.’
‘I am not from the newspapers. I am from the Afghanistan government, and I met Mister Sam in Mr O’Reilly’s office in Darwin. Please, here is my card,’ and he walked up the steps and handed Uncle Mungo a business card.
Uncle Mungo looked at it, raised his eyebrows and said, ‘Well, I s’pose you’d better come in then, and tell us what you want.’
Sam introduced Hamid Mahsoud to Uncle Mungo and Charles, and they sat at the table together.
‘On behalf of my embassy, I wish to thank you for what you have done for this child. Now I am here to take her back with me. She is a resident of Afghanistan and citizen of my country. We wish to bring her home to Afghanistan and reunite her with her family,’ he said, smiling in a way which raised Sam’s hackles immediately. He didn’t know what it was about Hamid Mahsoud, but he didn’t like him one little bit.
‘She’s not going anywhere,’ said Sam. ‘She –’
‘She is an Afghani citizen,’ interrupted Mahsoud a little forcefully. ‘She belongs to Afghanistan, and I have the right to take her with me, as the representative of my government.’
Sam opened his mouth to reply, but Charles leaned forward and said, ‘Your concern for a citizen of your country is understandable, Mr Mahsoud, but I’m afraid the laws of this country prevent you from taking the child anywhere. Once our investigations have been completed, then it will be time to talk about what happens to her next.’
‘My government demands the return of our citizen!’ thundered Mahsoud, his eyes flashing angrily at Charles.
Charles continued in the same smooth, neutral tone: ‘Understood, Mr Mahsoud, but you are a guest in this country, and we have certain laws governing what happens to people on our own soil, especially children. May I suggest you take it up with your embassy, and with our Minister for Immigration?’
‘I will contact them immediately I return to Darwin. I will not tolerate such an insult! You will be hearing from us again.’ And with that he stormed out of the house and drove off.
Later that afternoon, Sam, George, Uncle Mungo and Charles travelled out to the Arm in two vehicles to bring Kalila and the twins back to the homestead. The stowaways, as Jaz had taken to calling them, were waiting for them at the foot of the Escarpment, Old Vincent with them. He was very pleased to see Charles again, and they shook hands warmly. Sam introduced him to Uncle Mungo who grabbed the old man’s hand in his great big fist and pumped it up and down, saying, ‘Thanks, mate, for lookin’ after them kids. Really appreciate it. Thanks, old feller.’
Then attention was turned to Kalila, who had shrunk into the background with Tess, clutching her hand tightly. She looked very nervous as Sam introduced her to Uncle Mungo and Charles.
‘It’s all right, Kalila. They are going to help you. They’re good men.’
She looked at Mungo and Charles searchingly and nodded
faintly to Sam. It would take a while before she trusted any strange adult, Sam thought.
Back at the homestead, Kalila was so overwhelmed at being treated as a welcome visitor and no longer having to hide that, to George’s great disgust, she started to cry again.
‘How her parents ever thought she’d get away with being a boy, I don’t know!’ said George, shaking his head.
When Jaz spoke to her in Persian, Kalila’s eyes widened, and a stream of words poured out of her, causing Jaz to throw her hands in the air and laugh. ‘Too fast! I only caught the first few words!’
She led Kalila over to the couch, where they sat quietly together, talking softly. Several times Jaz’s face grew grave, and she glanced over at Charles with a look of deep concern.
Darcy disappeared for a little while and came back looking worried.
‘What’s up, young’un?’ said Uncle Mungo.
‘I can’t find Horrible,’ said Darcy distractedly.
‘Who’s Horrible?’
Darcy suddenly remembered that Uncle Mungo hadn’t met Horrible. He and George looked at each other in dismay.
‘Um, well, she’s my pet snake and I had to bring her with me because Mum hates snakes and she won’t feed her. Sorry, Uncle Mungo, I forgot to tell you,’ he finished lamely.
‘A snake? You’ve lost a snake in the house?’ said Uncle Mungo. ‘Is it dangerous?’
‘No no!’ said Darcy. ‘She’s a green tree python, she’s not venomous or anything.’
‘She’s really great, Uncle Mungo, she’s really friendly,’ added George. ‘But she’s crawled out of her pillowcase and now we can’t find her.’
‘Well, I expect she’ll turn up. She’s probably tryin’ t’ catch a coupla geckoes for her tea.’
‘You don’t mind?’ said Darcy, looking like he’d dropped twenty cents and found a dollar.
‘Nah. Used ter keep the odd snake meself when I was a lad. Horrible will turn up with a fat belly sooner or later.’
Halfway through dinner a vehicle pulled up, and Uncle Mungo went out to see who it was. He returned with Spiros O’Reilly, QC, and said, ‘Apparently you know this bloke, Sam?’
‘Spiros! I wondered when you’d pop up!’ Charles leaned across the table to shake hands with the barrister. ‘This man is an expert on immigration law,’ he explained to the others, ‘and he’s also a good friend of mine. Kalila will be in excellent hands.’ He introduced Spiros to everyone else.
‘Sorry to barge in on you like this,’ Spiros said. ‘I tried to phone but I couldn’t get through, so I thought I’d come on out anyway. I’m here to offer my services to help Kalila. As Sam and Darcy know, I’m already representing the other refugees, and I thought she could do with some advice for the press conference tomorrow, not to mention how we deal with the Department after that …’
When he had seated himself at the table, Uncle Mungo said, ‘Spiros O’Reilly? That’s a mixed-up name if ever I heard one. How’d yer get a moniker like that?’
‘Greek mother, Irish father,’ shrugged Spiros. ‘Steven Patrick O’Reilly, according to my dad, but my mum’s family always called me Spiros anyway, and it kind of stuck.’ He helped himself to some food, and grinned at Uncle Mungo.
The excitement was all a bit much for Kalila to manage, so as soon as dinner was over, Tess and Jaz took her off to her room, and Tess stayed there with her. Jaz returned to the dining room, sat down and poured herself a cup of tea. She looked very serious. Everyone waited for her to speak.
Jaz stirred her tea, and looked across the table at Charles. ‘Kalila’s told me a lot of things I think you need to know,’ she began. ‘She’s been through a dreadful time. She escaped from Afghanistan with her father about a year ago. They walked over the mountains in the middle of winter through the snow, across the border into Pakistan. She says they were being hunted by ‘bad men’ who were trying to kill her father, because he was working to stop the illegal drug trafficking in their country.’
Jaz paused here and sipped her tea, looking a little distressed. She went on: ‘Her mother and her younger brother were killed in a car bomb explosion which was meant to kill her father, so he decided they had to get away. I think she said her father was a policeman in Afghanistan. I didn’t understand some of the words she used, but it was something like that. They stayed in Pakistan for a while, but they were tracked down again and fled the country, going from place to place until they managed to get to Indonesia, where they bought passages on a boat to Australia.’
She frowned slightly, trying to remember exactly what Kalila had told her. ‘They left Indonesia at night, with three other boats. They thought they were safe once they were out of sight of land, but then a fast boat chased after them, and shot at the boat she and her father were on. She said it sank, and the fast boat went away again leaving everyone in the water. Two of the other refugee boats came over to them after a while, and rescued some of the people, but a lot had disappeared. She got separated from her father in the water, and hasn’t seen him since. Then her boat ran into a big storm, a lot of people were washed overboard, and eventually it struck the reef. All she remembers about that is waking up in the boat all by herself. She saw Sam and George the next day, when George left his water bottle behind, and she drank that for a day or two. Then Sam and George came back, and found her on the beach.’
All the following morning, they dealt with the media. Half a dozen film crews had set up in the homestead living room for the press conference. There were hordes of journalists with notepads and tape recorders, and photographers with cameras. Kalila sat, small and terrified, at the centre of the table, flanked by Sam and Jaz, with George, Tess and Darcy beside them. Spiros sat behind Sam, and Charles perched to one side, representing the Immigration Department. Uncle Mungo and Old Jock stayed well behind the cameras, out of the way. It was hot under the bright lights.
Sam suddenly had a moment of sheer terror. When he had talked about publicity, he realised now that he’d had no idea what it meant. He hadn’t thought about having to speak to a whole group of people, especially not strange people firing questions at him.
‘How old are you and your brother, Sam?’
‘Where did you find the girl?’
‘How long has she been here?’
‘Does she like Australia?’
‘Tell us about the crocodile,’ said the man from the local newspaper.
‘Why did you hide this child?’ asked a woman standing next to a national tv camera crew.
‘Because we don’t want her to go to a prison for years and years,’ replied Sam. ‘She’s just a kid.’
‘But she’s an illegal immigrant. What about the laws of the country?’
Sam felt the indignation rising up inside him. The cameras zoomed in. ‘Well, maybe the laws are wrong! Kids don’t deserve to go to prison, they just go where their parents take them, and anyway, prison’s bad for them.’
‘That’s right,’ said George. ‘We read in the paper that it damages kids, to keep them locked up.’
‘Where did you hide her?’
‘We hid her in the hay shed, and then in Tess’s room, and then we took her to a secret place where no one could find her, so that no one could take her away,’ said George.
‘What do you think the government should do then?’
Sam frowned and said, ‘I don’t know what the government should do. I’m just a kid too. But that doesn’t mean I don’t know right from wrong. And just because I don’t know what they should do, doesn’t mean the government should keep doing the wrong thing!’
The questions lasted for about twenty minutes. They asked Kalila questions, which Jaz translated, and haltingly Kalila told the story of her escape from her home country and eventual rescue by Sam and George from the crocodile on the beach. Finally Spiros took over, made a statement about the course he would be seeking for her after this, and closed the press conference. It was clear that Kalila was very stressed and becoming upset. After a few more phot
os, Jaz and Tess hustled her out of the room, and the media crews packed up their equipment and went back to town. Spiros followed soon after, as he had to start work on Kalila’s case, and meet with the Immigration Department.
Charles logged on to the internet the next day, and they were amazed to see how much coverage the story had received. Pictures of them at the media conference adorned the front page of every major interstate newspaper, and a couple of international ones as well, with headlines such as: ‘CHILDREN TEST IMMIGRATION LAWS’, ‘THEY WON’T GIVE UP THEIR MATE!’, ‘KIDS FIGHT TO KEEP REFUGEE OUT OF DETENTION’ – and George’s favourite, from the local Darwin paper: ‘KIDS SAVE CHILD FROM CROC ATTACK!’
Spiros phoned to say that talkback radio programs around the country were running hot with angry callers. Parliament House was being besieged with phone calls, emails and letters, as was the Immigration Department.
‘You’ve drummed up a lot of support, Sam,’ he said. ‘I reckon we’ll get a good response from the government soon. They can’t let this go on for too long.’
All the media attention had a downside though. Early in the afternoon, Uncle Mungo discovered that some buffaloes had broken out of one of the paddocks.
‘It musta bin all them helicopters flyin’ around, getting their “backgroun’ shots”. I’ll have t’ go and see where they’ve got to,’ said Uncle Mungo. ‘D’ya want to come, Charles? Not much for you to do around here. We’ll just be an hour or two at the most.’
Old Jock went along for the ride too.
Jaz turned to the others after the men had left, and said, ‘Would you guys like to learn how to make baklava? It’s a favourite of my family’s and Kalila loves it. I brought the ingredients back with me when we went to town the other day.’
They were all in the kitchen, busy with pastry, honey, walnuts and almonds, when they heard a car pull up outside.
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