S Sorrensen
Nimbin. Saturday, 12pm
On my left is the Polite Service team. They’re Nimbin’s finest: hairy, helpful, and committed to the public good. Sure, their uniform is a bit haphazard this year – some aren’t even wearing the ‘Polite’ cap – and one wonders if bare feet can get the traction required for the Tug of Drug War.
It’s a skinny team, except for one bloke who is built like a mudbrick shithouse. He’s the anchor man, and the turf of Sativa Stadium indents under his feet as he lumbers to the back of the team, his red eyes half closed with steely determination.
On my right is the NSW Police Force team. Big blokes, and a woman. They are superbly outfitted in deadly-nightshade blue, with boots designed for maximum grip and handguns designed for killing. Their eyes are hidden behind wrap-around sunglasses.
The Tug of Drug War event between these traditional rivals kicks off the Hemp Olympix, an annual festival of sport which is at the very heart of MardiGrass. Every year the NSW Police Force sends a team. Over the years, they have had some success in the Tug of Drug War. That’s not surprising, considering the huge amount of public money spent on this team. (To be fair, some members of the Polite team are also publicly funded, but no guns or tasers.)
I am a Hemp Olympix official (self-funded), here to ensure the rules of the Tug of Drug War are adhered to. The rules are laid out in Hemp Olympix Rules and Etiquette. For example, no guns to be fired while tugging (section VII, clause b).
Standing between the two teams and holding the official hemp Tug Rope above the official centre mark, I feel the strain in the rope as both teams prepare to tug. I feel anticipation in the crowd.
Under the terms of engagement just agreed upon, if the Police Force wins, citizens will continue to be searched, tongues scraped, and jobs lost. Aussie mums and dads will be fined, jailed and generally harassed. Because marijuana is illegal. (God made a mistake.)
If the Polite Service wins, marijuana will be decriminalised (because it is the Burning Bush) and the community can divert wasted resources into dealing with real problems, like alcohol abuse and domestic violence.
There’s a lot at stake.
‘Are you ready, Polite team?’ I ask. The captain tightens his sarong, and nods yes.
‘Are you ready, Police team?’ Their captain, the woman, gives a curt nod and curls her fingers around the rope.
‘Okay… okay… TUG!’ I yell.
Instantly the Tug Rope becomes so taut it hums. The spectators cheer. Most cheer for the Polite team, but one bloke in a tight green dress and fake lashes roots for the Police Team – riot vests and leather gloves are quite fetching.
The Police team pulls the Polite half a metre. Oh no. But, with a grunt, the Polite anchor digs in. Small hills form in front of his bare feet as his toes are rooted in the field of war. Police momentum is halted.
To win a sporting contest like this requires self-belief. Does the Police team really believe that randomly hassling people because they may smoke a joint is important, when their sponsors are killing the reef, poisoning farmland and abusing refugees? Is that sporting?
No, of course not. I’m sure that behind those wrap-arounds are open eyes that can see the bloody obvious… Here, on the sacred soil of Sativa Stadium, we are all equal, all tuggers.
The Polite Service, pulling for social justice, yanks the Police Force across the winning mark.
The crowd erupts. A few even manage to stand up. It’s an exciting win. Some of the Police team smile.
Service beats Force.
great story , we had a tug-o-war between a bunch of us , not as old as now , hippie surfies and the banana growers … at the moo ball fish n nana , years ago … after a big tug , and a lot more tugging … we won , they were surprised …. and we all drank beer and felt happy ever after !!! well stone the budgies we said , and that was it .