THE GHOST WHO WALKS

Raqqa, aerial strikes

He could focus on the janitor, who had always been there.
Wise soul.
Or he could listen to the elaborate stories in his head, of an ornate, large sarcophagus, a lost tomb in the north of the country. An English lord who's skeleton was encased in a fine ceramic. How it was possible, in this remote place, he knew not. But the Lord just wanted to go home, and would move every kind of trickery and connivance through human affairs to get there, no matter how obtuse, unlikely or apparently unrelated it seemed. 
He wanted to go back to his shores, to his birthplace. As so many, a common instinct, he just wanted to go home.
The ghost emerged from the sarcophagus when he was alone in the cave.
"It's true," he said.
The Lord smiled, almost amused.
"Yes."
It was a jinn infested world.
Now the tomb was found, it was only a matter of process before he would be returned to his ancestral lands.
"I wanted to thank you," the Lord said, before promptly vanishing. 
Out in the real world, a shambolic mishmash of adopted ideologies, multiple incompetencies characterised Australian governance across the country. 
Old Alex had become victim, in his own anguished away, to exactly that incompetence, the blind brutality of secretive security agencies, the prejudices of thugs, the lies of self-serving bureaucrats.
"It's been an honour."
They were all decamping.
"It's official, then?"
"Yes."
What, that commonsense had prevailed? That the counterproductive effects of the surveillance and harassment he had endured for years had finally become so self-evident that even the thick headed thugs in their smart suits could see that.
Or the tasks would just be handed over to AIs, far more difficult to detect.
Trust no one.
The question would become, soon enough, as psychic wounds healed, what next? 
When not afraid, unable or unwilling to overcome mammalian fear of being watched, he had hoovered their brains. No wonder there were so many of them. They thought about sex incessantly, even when they were pretending they weren't. But he also listened to their bitches about their bosses, was told, repeatedly, of mind boggling malfeasance, the secretive trails of venal incompetence and self serving thuggery. Of the palace of fools they served. 
The country was dying.
Democracy was already dead.
The people had been betrayed, betrayed and betrayed again. 
And it was all due to the overlords. 
Populations were easily manipulated. It was the venality of the overlords, and the cruelties of the forces they served, that had to be brought to account. 
Killed.

THE BIGGER STORY:

YUNUPINGU PASSES



The soulful, high tenor voice of the singer and guitarist Dr G Yunupingu, who has died aged 46, brought him international celebrity, even though he mostly sang in the Australian Aboriginal languages of Gumatj, Galpu and Djambarrpuynu. He performed at concert halls around the world, sang for the Queen and for Barack Obama, and was hailed by Rolling Stone magazine as “Australia’s most important voice”. His bestselling albums achieved triple platinum status.

Yunupingu showed his unique appeal at his debut solo London concert in May 2009, when he was still little known in the UK. He sat motionless throughout, singing and playing the acoustic guitar, backed by a string quartet and the double bass work of his friend, producer and manager Michael Hohnen. He said nothing, apart from a final “Thank you”, but dominated the hall with his gently powerful and heartfelt singing. His melodies were straightforward, powerful and accessible, with their blend of folk, soul and gospel influences, along with a dash of reggae, and his poetic lyrics dealt with nature or his ancestors.

He started the performance with Wiyathul, a song that explaining the importance of the orange-footed scrubfowl to the Gumatj nation, and ended with a highly personal song in English, I Was Born Blind. Afterwards, he sat in the dressing room, still not speaking. “He won’t talk,” explained Hohnen, “but I can feel that he’s happy.” It was clear that he would become a world music celebrity.

Yunupingu was born blind, in Galiwin’ku on Elcho Island, off the coast of Arnhem Land in the Northern Territory, and was a member of the Gumatj clan of the Yolngu people. The first of four sons born to Ganyinurra (Daisy) and Nyambi (Terry) Yunupingu, he became fascinated by music as a child. Following local custom, his aunts Dorothy, Anne and Susan all played a major role in looking after him, and sang him hymns they had learned at the local Methodist mission.

Later, Yunupingu joined the mission choir, and began singing standard hymns – Amazing Grace, The Old Rugged Cross or To Be a Pilgrim. He was a fan of western pop, particularly the songs of Dire Straits, Cliff Richard and Stevie Wonder, but these were matched against other, more ancient influences – the beliefs, customs and songs of his people. In later life his often spiritual compositions would blend western musical influences with lyrics that dealt with clan traditions and beliefs.

He never learned braille but was naturally skilful as a musician, playing the guitar, keyboards and drums, and he soon became celebrated far beyond Elcho Island. He first learned to make music when his mother and aunts arranged empty tin cans on the beach for him to hit with sticks. Then he was given a toy piano accordion, capable of playing 12 notes, by his parents, and his uncle gave him a guitar...

The Australian understands the 46-year-old from Elcho Island, off the Arnhem Land coast, was found in a beach drinking camp last week, just metres from a popular cafe, before being taken to the Royal Darwin Hospital, where he died on Tuesday.

Vaughan Williams, a musician and homeless services worker who has long worked with Darwin’s population of itinerant, mainly indigeno­us “long-grassers”, said he was horrified to discover his lifelong friend among a group of “f..khead” drinkers.

“These weren’t your usual drinkers — they were serious drinkers. Every indication was wrong and bad,’’ he said.

“I just don’t know how it could have happened without someone saying (Dr Yunupingu) has missed a bunch of renal visits. It’s un­believable. It shouldn’t have happened. He should still be alive, and if people had put simple processes in place, he would still be alive.”

Dr Yunupingu’s manager, the head of Skinnyfish records Mark Grose, called his client a “genius” and a “national treasure”.

Public debate in Darwin is commonly about the “anti-social behaviour” long-grassers attract, rather than about their wellbeing.

Domestic violence on public streets and intoxicated people ­falling onto — and sometimes sleeping upon — the roads are not unfamiliar sights for locals. Williams said he had found the singer at Casuarina Beach on ­Darwin’s northeast coast last Wednesday but been forced to return the following day with three other men to persuade him to be carried to a car and taken hospital.

“He couldn’t walk … he was so skinny,” he said. “I wanted to help him as soon as I saw him, but I couldn’t force him.”