Racism and reconciliation

That dreaded word - reconciliation - popped into my head tonight.


I don't think anyone expects a magic cure for the smoothing of relations between Aborigines and whites. Certainly, many have tried over the years - but it seems little progress has been made.
Realistically, I don't think we're going to see any kind of resolution for many, many years - certainly not in our lifetimes.
History has provided many examples of ongoing conflict between races. Two that immediately come to mind are the persecution of the Jews and, more recently in the time-line, the prejudice that continues to divided blacks and whites in the US.
Unquestionably, we do need to sit down and take a deep breath ... With a bit of calm and rational thinking we might even learn something from each other.
Struth, we might even learn to like each other!
I suppose, though, that when it comes to sorting out our differences we must start by getting rid of preconceived ideas, such as branding everyone the same because of a few bad apples (on both sides) who have helped put wrong ideas in our heads.
I can't say that I've known many Aborigines well, or had any as friends, although I have had strong friendships with native Fijians and I've known some Maori people well.
But there have been a couple of amusing exchanges I've had with Aborigines.
The funniest would had to have been at Goodooga, near the NSW-Queensland border, during a shooting trip many years ago.
(Goodooga, by the way, was once voted the most boring town in NSW, because the locals reckoned the most exciting thing to do there was watch the meter on the petrol bowser tick over!)
Anyway, a group of us was sitting in the pub enjoying a few coldies and we got chatting with a few of the local Aborigines.
One of these blokes was nicknamed Tuppence, and he kept eyeing our mate Frank (who was Maltese and whose skin was somewhat dark) in a suspicious manner.
Finally, Tuppence sidled up to Frank and, in a whisper, asked: "Are you one of us?"
Frank immediately earned himself a new nickname - Sixpence.
A more disappointing experience, though, was in a pub in Rockhampton.
We were at one of those tall tables with stools and there was room left in what was an otherwise crowded bar.
A group of about four Aborigines entered the bar and, seeing there was room at our table, asked if they could join us.
No worries, we said.
We started talking about the usual things, such as the weather, sport and so on, but then we got on to the subject of race relations.
"We're not racist," said one of the Aborigines.
"Great, neither are we," said one of our group.
The banter bounced back and forth and, like typical blokes, would stop whenever it was debated whose turn it was to shout, or when a good-looking woman entered the bar.
That was until a pretty Aboriginal girl came in.
"She's a cutie," said one of our group.
"Hey, keep your eyes off our girls, mate," came the warning from the other side of the table.
But they weren't racist.