A nice day for a dip

Even hours before any violence starts, North Cronulla is a photojournalist’s wet dream.

“I tell you what, this will get the politicians attention,” says local, Rebecca. She’s not wrong. She and her family are but specks in the bamboozling parade of perverted Aussie pride. Flags stretch across cars, down apartment windows and tattoo across red, sunburnt shoulders. Thousands have made their way down to Cronulla, and they’re having a good, showy time.

They’re all here because of a text message. Well, a text message and a media frenzy, building the day and the threatened face-off between ‘Aussies’ and those ‘of Middle Eastern descent’ allegedly making trouble on the beach – culminating in the bashing of two lifeguards the week before.

"What shocks me is that the majority of them are Australian-born Lebanese – it's how they've been raised,” says Rebecca. “The Shire is not going to put up with it. We are the first people in Sydney really taking a stand – we're not going to become another Lakemba"

Her partner Brian, agrees. “Something has to be done,” he says. Brian has his shorts undone and holds his penis in both hands, before beginning to piss in great splashes on the grass at our feet.

"Sorry love, I have to do it somewhere."

There are different ideas of what constitutes offensive behavour, but the attack on the lifesavers seemed to strike a particularly resonant chord among the local community. Enraged at increasing gang intimidation and frustrated by the lack of police action, the peculiar parochialism of the Shire rose up in protest, forming against a very clear target.

"This is God's Country, not Allah's getaway," says Rebecca’s young daughter, Simone. "The Shire lebs are fine, it's the ones from Bankstown and Punchbowl. It's as if they come for one reason – to piss us off."

But then, the Shire has never spared much love for visitors. South of Sydney, it was the initial site of Captain Cook’s landing in 1772, before he promptly left the windy, miserable bay to find somewhere more hospitable to set up the founding colony. Regardless, the Birthplace of a Nation it remains, and that’s how the locals like to keep it.

“People like Cronulla the way it is,” says Chris. He has lived in Cronulla all his life and has ventured up from the quiet end of the beach to show his support.

“It’s a bit of an overkill, isn’t it?” he says. “Cronulla will use any excuse to have a party, but the yobs make it look worse than it is.”

The yobs: young, chiseled, carelessly bronzed and beautiful, they are their own kind of proud beach icons - young boxing kangaroos, itching, as one onlooker says good-naturedly, for a blue.

“Worlds greatest street fighter,” has written one across his shirt. “Not on our beach” says that of another.

“I think some of them are really funny,” said Carol. She moved into the area a week ago and is enjoying the scene. “I think it’s great, I’m a proud Aussie. There was a barbeque out the back of a Ute before; it said “free sausages – no tabouli.’”

Mick has also come down to take it in.

“I wasn’t going to, but my son had his 21st last night and I couldn’t believe how many messages and calls he was getting to come down,” he says. “So I came down here with my two boys. This will show them that they can’t behave that way on our beach.”

“Wog Free Zone,” is scrawled across the back of another.

Inside the bored, oozing, playful crowd there is another: the surf lifesavers are again quietly at the centre of the fracas as they christen a new rescue boat out the back of the club.

“…always involved in the club, he chauffeured for a couple of years. He has contributed so much to Australia, particularly the youth – taught them how to swim, train and probably drink too…”

Police are moving through the crowd on horseback and on foot, a cheer goes up as two bikers hoon by. The beach smells of beer and horseshit.

“It’s all in good fun,” said Duncan, who has come down to watch the action. “They’ll have a bit to drink but it’s all just a bit of fun in the sun.”

“…he won the SN Reese member trophy three times, testament to the great man that he is…”

“We’re dying for something to happen,” adds Duncan’s companion, Paul.

“…so it gives me great pleasure to announce the naming of surf boat-“

“Save ‘Nulla, fuck Allah!”

The crowd by the carpark has found a focus and they’re off - a swarm of young beach boys looking for a blue.

“I think it paints Cronulla in a really bad light,” says a bystander. “It’s really upsetting - I’ve lived here for 30 years, the people here are not racist-“

“What’s the best colour? White!”

“Well, maybe among the younger,” he says as two teenage girls in pink singlets and denim skirts, shouting and laughing, go running past.

“We grew here, you flew here.”

The storm surge heads through the backstreets of North Cronulla, swelling and urging on as it heads up to the mall. Up by the train station two young girls from Miranda stand by in bikinis and towels.

“It makes us look bad, people won’t want to come here,” says one. “Two lebs got bashed, there’s an ambulance over there,” she points. “Then everyone came running.”

Back down at the beach the crowd have found what they’re looking for. Swirling and chanting, beers in hand they are a seething, concentrated mass drawing more people in around an unseen target. The photographers scrambling for the money shot.

Suddenly, there’s a smaller scuffle on the periphery and a youth tears past.

“He’s a leb!” comes the shout and they’re off, following the road and each other back up the Kingsway and on to the mall.

A gaggle of police begin moving quickly in the opposite direction and slowly the tide reverses and people head back to the beach, then back around behind the surf lifesaving club and around the front again. It’s on, it’s on. But no one knows exactly where.

“Who are you? Just a bunch of sheep,” someone yells.

“Tomorrow everyone will still be on edge,” says Rebecca. “New Year's Eve and Australia Day will be tense – Australia Day down here is full of ethnics. Their attitude sucks. We’ve been here in line, and they just push in and they say ‘you Aussie’s think you own the place.’ Well, we do.”

By late afternoon on the promenade the sun has slapped necks increasingly redder, but down on the beach itself things are quiet. A few little kids play in the sand and groups of lifeguards huddle together, close knit. The sun is shining. The water’s a bit choppy, but otherwise it’s peaceful. A nice day to spend at the beach.