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During the September, 2002,
event at Amaroo, former follower of Maharaji, Neville
Ackland, staged a one man protest outside the gates of
Amaroo. Along with John Macgregor's
Good Weekend
article, the
protest generated some media interest, samples of which can
be found here.
In spite of having an apportunity to explain his message to
a wider audience, Maharaji declined various offers to be
interviewed by the press.
Although Neville uses the term Ex-premie.org, he is not part
of any official organisation of ex-premies, and does not
represent this website in any official way. However, the
webmaster of this site fully supports his protest.
Neville's accounts below, first appeared on the ex-premie
Forum 7.
What an amazing day! Never have I been so confronted and
never have I been so confronting. It was more confronting,
and I was more confronting, than I had ever imagined.
The day began getting my 14-year-old boy off to school. The
furniture truck was ready to go, covered in protest signs
that I hope you will see on the forum within the next 24
hours. John MacGregor was the photographer and I did all the
posing. John and I spent an exciting and fruitful Monday
evening and I learnt a lot. Heaps more scandalous and
disturbing information - for another time.
I arrived at the intersection of Mt Flinders Rd and the
Ipswich-Boonah Rd at 8.30 am feeling great. There were three
cameramen and two reporters waiting for me. They were soon
to be joined by several others, one freelance, all the
newspapers and one television channel. Other networks will
come on board possibly tomorrow. The morning was spent being
interviewed and filmed, in many poses with many signs. The
signs that adorned the truck, as you will see, were about as
provocative as you could get. I had made my intentions clear
from the beginning - I want Maharaji to be brought to some
sort of justice, to be held accountable in some way. I feel
a bit like David facing up to Goliath. My slingshot is the
truth, and if he believes my accusations are false let him
prove it in court. So, I deliberately affront him and make
no excuses for myself. One thing Goliath proved is that he
was a big target; you had to be a lousy shot to miss. And of
course, the bigger they are the harder they fall.
Whilst the cameras rolled, I stood on the roof of the truck
holding my giant signs and swapping them around
occasionally. Luckily it wasn't a windy day! Hundreds of
cars came by, countless dozens turned into Mt Flinders Rd.
The neighbour living across the road began cheering, later
the man came across and congratulated me and then spoke to
the reporters. In the midst of all of this, three local
farmers stopped - all said that it was about time. I learnt
something really important, these people aren't a bunch of
disgruntled redneck locals who don't want progress and would
complain about any development at Ivory's Rock. It goes far
deeper than that.
Ivory's Rock was a sacred site to the native tribes that
lived in the area. It's the dominating physical feature and
it's an icon. When white settlers first moved to the area
they immediately recognized its significance. No matter who
owned the place, for over 100 years local people have felt
that they could always go there, and go there they did. It
attracted people like a magnet. It's got an energy about it.
Some locals use the word 'heritage' when talking about it.
Whatever way you say it, whether you're a cattleman or a
bushwalker, Ivory's Rock and Mt Flinders have a special
place in the lives of those who live nearby.
When the Ivory's Rock land was purchased by Maharaji back in
'91 (I was there) and it was announced that there was to be
a convention centre built, local people asked I.R.C.C.
management if free access would continue to be available to
this special place. They were told in no uncertain terms
yes, but over the years, as Maharaji became more paranoid,
the presence of boom gates, security guards and controlled
visits in tour buses didn't exactly turn the locals on. They
slowly realized that a cult had taken over their 'sacred
site'. It wasn't just a paddock down the road. As the darker
side of the cult revealed itself to the local people, for
instance, smiling whilst lying, saying one thing and meaning
another, denying the obvious, they felt betrayed. This is an
important thing for everyone to understand. It's almost as
if the locals feel a dark force has taken control of their
special place, and some of them are reminded every time they
drive past.
Back to the protest: some people who were turning into Mt
Flinders Rd were so shocked, especially when they read my
FOOT KISSING RITUALS THIS WAY sign, that they almost missed
the corner and had an accident. I actually became concerned
and thought I'd better stop, but by now it was time to go
anyway as all the reporters were waiting three kilometres
down the roads at the main gate.
I approached the first roadblock with horn blowing, hazard
lights flashing, making the black power salute. A very
agitated parking attendant demanded I stop. The cameras were
rolling, the tape recorders were turning, from both within
the cab of the truck and from outside. When asked to stop I
said: "No way, I'm going to the front gate and you can't
stop me." Amidst a throng of people, I moved the truck
slowly towards the front gate and was directed to park under
the big gum tree as around 500 premies streamed across the
road. I grabbed my biggest sign daring Maharaji to face me.
I began calling out to Maharaji to come out and face his
accusers. I said I had a petition from ex-followers. I dared
him to take me to court over my allegations and claimed that
if he didn't face me he would be judged guilty as charged by
Australian society.
I didn't need to use my megaphone; the energy behind my
voice was enough. My old buddy Nils Couran (hope I've got
the spelling right, it's been a long time) was a senior
observer. I approached him immediately after making my
speech and putting my sign away. I wanted to say "nothing
personal' - the words fell on deaf ears. He said I made it
personal when I called to him in front of reporters.
Possibly I embarrassed him, sometimes I can be a bit of a
smartarse. If so, my apologies Nils, I know you're reading
this (he told me he is a regular visitor to the forum). Like
the fool I am, I found myself appealing to him or at least
to a part of him surrendered many years ago. In a moment I
realized it was no use. When it came to Maharaji, for Nils,
the lights were on but nobody was home…scary… but
more scary is yet to come.
By this time I was hungry and I had made my announcement so
I packed up, waved bye bye to everyone…horn blowing,
hazard lights flashing, making the black power salute…
Several parking attendants sitting a hundred metres away
returned the salute. I drove to the Peak Crossing store
flashing my lights at oncoming traffic feeling invincible.
When Aires people feel invincible, from my experience they
usually fall on their face. So let's say I was wary…and
invincible. Lo and behold, at the store, I was amazed to
find the old gentleman, whatever his name is, and his
offsider, whatever her name is! The ones that conned me at
the April demonstration and the ones that tried to con Jim
at the Vancouver program. "I've got a bone to pick with
you," I said. I amused and/or confused their befuddled
brains for a short time and then told them to go and tell
their boss that I was going to Ipswich to drive up and down
the main street blowing my horn and using the megaphone, and
off I went.
As I approached my destination, my mobile phone rang - it
had been ringing all day. It was Channel 7 again, that
distractingly attractive reporter who I'd invited to go to
dinner at 'Fine Dining'. She wanted to know if I could
supply a videotape of Maharaji. I didn't have my hearing aid
in, I realized I was twice her age, and dejected, I pulled
over to the side of the road and turned the motor off. As we
were speaking a face appeared at the window, an extremely
angry face, belonging to, you guessed it, a premie. Before I
knew it the truck door was open, the phone was knocked from
my ear and he was reaching for the ignition keys. Losing the
plot momentarily I yelled down the phone "I'm being
attacked, ring 000!" "Where are you," she said - I didn't
know! I abandoned that plan immediately. "What's this -
what's this!" the angry premie said pointing to the signs on
the truck. I knew a long explanation was not in order. "Calm
down," I said. "When I see you next you're dead," he said
and stormed back to his car. The fact that I was speaking to
a reporter describing exactly what was happening didn't help
his cause. I got his licence number and the Channel 7
reporter wrote it down. Ah, these reporters have an exciting
life.
I spent the next two and a half hours at the Ipswich police
station filing a report. The police officer was very helpful
and checked my story with the Channel 7 reporter. I want to
make it clear that I reported the matter for my own
protection. I believe the threat this premie made was made
in the heat of the moment and in a way I feel uncomfortable
that he may get into trouble. After all, he was only
protecting his master and overwhelmed by vulnerability.
Dangerous nevertheless.
So that was my day, Day 1. Since I arrived home this evening
the phone has run hot - no exaggeration. My old buddy
Michael rang from Sydney to say Channel 7 had just
interviewed him - we're going national. A local rang to say
he was writing a letter to the editor of the Queensland
Times and the Courier Mail. He said others were doing the
same thing. It's going to be a late night and an early
start. I must say that when I arrive at Ivory's Rock
tomorrow morning, the type of exhilaration I felt this
morning will still be there but it will be mixed with
sadness because in confronting Maharaji in the only way I
know how (and do best) I'm confronting premies, many of whom
are not ready to be confronted. Who wants feel as if they
are causing others pain, even if indirectly? But in reality
I'm still just the messenger - it's the message that causes
the pain. Don't shoot the messenger guys.
Love and respect to all the premies…especially the
pretty girls.
More news and photos tomorrow evening.
Nev
Didn't get to post this last night, so here's Round 2 and 3.
No cheating to see what happens now!!!
Wednesday 4 September
SHOCK, HORROR - what have I done? Will what I have started
trigger a chain of events culminating in the humiliating
exposure of M (and by association I.R.C.C. and EV) and his
inevitable retreat…retirement perhaps…whilst
awaiting the enquiries of the Taxation Department and other
unsuspected bombshells yet to be revealed.
This evening's Channel 7 program 'Today tonight' was
devastating for M and a victory for every ex-premie that has
ever been. The program covered as much as anyone could
expect considering all the limitations of commercial TV. The
reporter and producer Karen Tan did a great job: aerial
shots of the camp ground, footage of M speaking, a brief
interview with Michael McClure in Sydney…some nice
lines there Michael…an interview with a cult expert
verifying M's status and unsavoury nature. The cult expert
mentioned problems associated with exposing cult leaders and
bringing them to justice.
The program exposed M pretty much to be the way he is. Of
course there were many, many issues that this 7 or 8 minutes
didn't address, but it was surprisingly accurate. M came
across as a secretive cult leader refusing interviews. No
I.R.C.C. or EV rep will speak to the press. Total silence!
No comment! What are the press and the public going to
believe? They'll think this guy has got something to hide,
that he's afraid to face the accusations and that he is
probably guilty of everything; a rip off merchant, that was
the impression I got from the program.
O yes, I almost forgot, guess who hogged the limelight -
you're right! The little Aussie battler fighting for
justice. That's right folks…me.
I was amazing in my role because it was made for me and
because the kind editor cut out all the bits where I talked
too fast to be understood. My props also helped me look
better than I am and there were fantastic shots of the
truck, and signs, with me on the roof yelling at M to come
out. The confrontation at the main gate, totally
unrehearsed, was spectacularly successful.
Lots of good, concise comments (edited out of non-stop,
sometimes overpowering, avalanches of information that came
tumbling out of my mouth) coming from I know not where, each
word an act of faith, a powerful tool - it was great. I
thought I was sometimes, when the script allowed, quite
scary actually. I thought…shit! I'm glad I'm on my
side! Especially when that spunky reporter asked me if I'd
be back to morrow and I replied that not only would I be
back tomorrow but I would be back the next time M was in
town. Anyway, I don't expect any academy awards from the
premies when they find out about the Channel 7 expose. Most
of them will have missed it unless they have a TV in their
tent. I bet M has one of those expensive surround sound flat
screen monsters - I wonder who got to see it live, and who
will get a tape. I've already got my copy.
Highlights from Round 2, Day 2
My son Jarrah and our dog Chester came along for the day and
were a wonderful support team. Jarrah held high the FOOT
KISSING RITUAL THIS WAY sign. We had a rude finger counting
competition: he got 13 and I got 7, plus a dozen of so calls
of "Get a life!" At lunchtime we moved down the road to
cruise the campsite and eating area - no roadblocks,
friendly police. We waved tentatively at solemn, shocked,
confronted faces and worried smiles. I was the bringer of
bad tidings that for some might lead down the road to
freedom and become the good news. But for many…who
knows? I may always be, for them, the man that wrecked their
dream. I had better get some Sandalwood oil to ward off
psychic attack.
Jarrah, Chester and I then drove into Ipswich and cruised
around. We tied to get stuck at the lights and park next to
busy intersections. We pulled the plug at about 4.00 pm and
drove home through Boonah and Mt Alford, attracting
attention.
ROUND 3: M KNOCKED TO THE CANVAS, DENIES IT AND BLAMES
SOMEONE ELSE!
Thursday 5 September
Sitting in the warm sun, in the cab of my protest vehicle
with my feet up and writing to all my friends at
ex-premies.org and feeling great!
Because of the Channel 7 program last night there were
gestures of support as I drove through local towns this
morning. People flashing their lights, blowing horns and
giving me the thumbs up - very helpful. I added their energy
to my own. By the time I got here I'd collected lots, and
considered scaling the power pole opposite to attach a sign.
Luckily I calmed myself down and spent an hour sprucing up
the signs. The SCANDAL AT I.R.C.C. sign on the front is now
a much brighter red and beneath the windscreen a new one
reads: WWW.EX-PREMIE.ORG DARES MAHARAJI FACE THE
ACCUSATIONS.
Had a long chat with Derek Harper who approached me this
morning. He explained to me that my protest was in vain
because M didn't care what anybody thought about him. Pushed
a little, he agreed that M didn't care what the media, the
neighbours the public or the ex-premies thought. Not caring
what anyone thinks as far as I'm concerned is not caring
what anyone feels. The point was lost on Derek.
Just got back to the base camp after four runs to ground
zero. I only planned one but had some much fun I did it all
again. Stopped at the pedestrian crossing, over a dozen
premies would read the signs at a time. Many more didn't.
Lots looked away, heads down, eyes averted. I bumped the
horn button ever so slightly (for fear of being arrested for
disturbing the peace) but there was no response. "Nice day
for it," I said as I waited for an old acquaintance to cross
the road, Cheeky, huh? The security guys are cool and
despite their lack of info are on side. Some saw the Channel
7 program and now have handbills and website details.
Contract staff are also expressing appreciation for what I'm
doing here. Two guys just stopped to offer their
congratulations. They work in catering. They told me M
arrived in a helicopter with 8 armed security guards, Elan
Vital personnel. I asked the guys 3 times to confirm their
claim. According to them its gospel. Many contracted staff
see and hear a lot more than premies realise. Suspicious
from the beginning, they notice things and gossip (more
about this later).
Just as I was writing this, an Indian man pulled up. He said
he was in a bit of a crisis and wanted to hear what M had to
say. Of course he wasn't let in. He was dismayed because in
India spiritual teachers welcome people in from the streets
to listen to them. Whilst we were talking a dude from EV
pulled up and took several photos. The Indian man became
alarmed and, as the honcho strode back to his car, called
for him to stop. He didn't. Perhaps the cult thought the
visitor was a plant. Who knows? Moments later, another
vehicle pulls up. It's a neighbour I've never met before. He
pulls out $100.00 and stuffs it in my shirt. Yes, he can
confirm the armed security guards. Yes, he has seen a
sub-machine gun in the hands of a premie - close
up…just hunting rabbits…? He confirmed M is trying
to buy land around him. He owns the paddocks on both sides
of the road, just before you get to the I.R.C.C. main
entrance and offered to accommodate protest signs in 9
different languages (he speaks 12 languages), after all it
is an international conference centre.
Help! This security guard just pulled up in a cloud of dust
and leans out his window waving leaflets that say, "Jesus
loves you." "Truth to you mate," he said and drove off
spinning the wheels. Will I ever get this letter
finished?
So far today I've only had 4 rude fingers. The premies are
really quite polite. What a buzz when my old mate Derek came
for a chat. He came close to begging me not to mention it on
ex-premie - all I could say was that he should have thought
about it before he stuck his neck out. I promised I wouldn't
say anything bad about him so I won't. By the way he swore
he wasn't, and isn't, Catweasel. What a case study you would
make for my psychology assignments. Derek, how about it?
Could we do some interviews - do you think I'm kidding?
My God! The school bus just went past, and stopped… so
all the kids could see the signs and, O no, the kids are
cheering! This is all too much. As I am writing this there
are twenty heads out the windows yelling, "We live just down
the road!"… and here comes a huge gravel truck, air
horns blaring - love those air horns! I'm off to ground zero
- see you soon…
Back again…I missed the crowd but will make up for it
tomorrow. I plan to be in the thick of it all day. It took
one and a half hours to get home owing to the locals
clustering around the truck and asking questions and
offering support.
That's all for now. I'm sure everyone enjoyed the
photographs - more to come as soon as we can find time.
Unfortunately, I lost my camera on the first day when the
reporters jumped into the cab - it must have fallen out. A
neighbour has taken a few, but they won't be available for a
week or so.
Until tomorrow…
Yours bravely
Neville
Wow, what a day! On days like today I search the limits of
my consciousness and the little wisdom I've gained from
life's experiences to try …strain to understand more
deeply the human dilemma. Never have I been so acutely aware
of my limitations.
For three days I've been concentrating on public awareness
rather than premie awareness. Many hours have been spent at
the highway intersection and the small towns and Ipswich.
People wave wherever I go. Although I must admit, most stare
in disbelief. Needless to say, they read the signs. I had to
get a tail light globe in Boonah this morning and called in
at the auto electricians. Everyone downed tools and came out
for a look. Yes, they had seen it on TV. His wife had looked
up the ex-premie website. By the time the globe was
replaced, 10 people stopped to read the signs. They were
interested, concerned, and thought I was mad. Amongst the
local Christians there is a downright resentment towards M,
EV and I.R.C.C. - the local community will play a big part
in M's downfall. Looks like we'll formalise things a bit.
Maybe start a concerned citizens group to lobby more
effectively. We may all throw some money in a hat and buy a
protest vehicle, or borrow a farmers truck, get together,
make signs, cover the truck and I'LL DRIVE THE BLOODY THING
THROUGHT THE STREETS OF EVERY TOWN FROM HERE TO TOOWOOMBA TO
BRISBANE AND BACK, informing the public of what's happening,
until the master of deception is banished.
Before long, the road leading to Amaroo will be lined with
signs demanding a federal government enquiry into M and his
organisation. Locals with some clout are writing to the
appropriate authorities. This is not a rumour.
Back to the battlefield!!! (I know it's a terrible
terminology but after all I'm an Aries). Really the only one
I'm ever battling is myself. 'M' represents an aspect of my
psyche that I need to understand - if I'm ever to understand
myself. This is a wonderful opportunity for me to grow a
little…OK OK I'll cut the crap and get on with it.
Arrived about 10am and drove straight up to the front gate,
security guards were so helpful I felt a little guilty; God
knows about what? The cops were great, I got to know three
sergeants throughout the day, had lunch in the shade of the
truck and talked cults. Such fun! I kept the breaks to a
minimum and got to work cruising back and forth constantly
stopping at the crossover, about forty times. You can see
right into the pavilion area where everyone eats, there were
thousands of perfectly normal Premies milling about,
crossing the road and sitting outside their tents in the
glorious spring sunshine…heavenly! Then along comes
Neville…today I've seen two thousand smiling faces
disappear as I intrude, almost stopping, leaning out the
drivers window (displaying my latest tattoo, the Chinese
symbol for human rights…people with tattoos do that
sort of thing). I make jokes with the traffic attendant at
the crossover about all the good-looking women. "Am I that
ugly?" I say to him as astonished premies wait to cross. "I
swear I've tried to attract the attention of every eligible
looking lady for the past five hours and none! none of them
will look at me!!" The guard doubled up laughing. I must
confess I said exactly the same thing to all three traffic
attendants. And they all cracked up.
I saw lots of my old friends, some sad moments,
embarrassment, not mine. I felt compassion towards the
premies although this quickly disappeared when they began to
defy logic and defend 'M'. "How would you feel if he was
fucking your girlfriend I said to one lady." "Krishna had
his gopies," she replied. You can't win!
As I was cruising up near the camp grounds I was hailed by a
premie who said, "You are a dead man, I've got a bullet with
your name on it". He didn't look too scary to me. He took a
step back, clenched his fists and challenged me to get out
of the truck. I wasn't very impressed - I just kept
cruising.
At about 3.30 all the premies disappeared to the
ampitheatre. I went to the local store, talked cults and the
owner bought me lunch. I returned to the Rock at about 4.30
to set up camp at the gate and await the exodus of the
faithful. I sat around with police and security guards
listening to 'M's talk on the car radio. More about this
later.
At six o'clock what seemed to me to be thousands and
thousands of premies streamed down the hill to be greeted by
me sitting cross-legged on the roof of my truck meditating,
but they distracted me and I ended up giving up. You know
what it's like. So I held high my original little sign from
the April protest "MAHARAJI, I GAVE YOU MY HEART, YOU BROKE
IT AND DIDN'T CARE". Of all the signs in my collection it
was the most personal one. For the fifteen or twenty minutes
it took for the premies to file past my truck there was an
eerie silence. Hardly anyone said anything.
Thanks so much to Cynthia (ELK droppings) and others for
those postings and similar things. As my neighbour said as
he drove away "keep up the pressure".
That's all from me. Have to be up early.
Neville
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