Tamara uses her last youth allowance payment to kit herself out like a fierce eco-warrior: khaki cargo pants, a black Sea Shepherd shirt, hiking boots and some colourful ribbons for her grotty dreadlocks that appear to have developed a shampoo resistant grease barrier.
She spends most her time at a hippie nest that spend their days slack-lining, smoking weed and writing politically charged signs to place outside their dwelling. It sure beats regular employment.
They said she could move in as soon as she could bring some “positive karma” to their “socialist vibes” (money so they can get the electricity back on). So, for now, she’s stuck at home with the folks.
In true Freo style, she believes in paying it forward. Provided she is on the receiving end of that arrangement. Much like the kind of parasitic backpacker that brags about travelling without any money but then flogs the avocado out of your leftover pasta in an act of true materialistic enlightenment.
If you ask Tamara, she will tell you that she fights for the sanctity of all nature, in reality, she dedicates 1 hour a week to raising money for a mentally unstable lunatic who regularly endangers the life of his crew.
Oh, and by raising money, she means getting in the faces of people going about their business and accusing them of not giving a shit about marine-based mammals. An excellent way to get someone to give up their credit card details.
Tamara is dead keen to quit her Arts degree and join Sea Shepherd. Unfortunately, her parents have laid down a tough ultimatum: quit uni and they are taking the Mini Cooper back. They also felt like extending that ultimatum to get her wearing shoes again – baby steps though.
The terms were unacceptable to Tamara, so she does the next best thing: slaps a bumper sticker on the back of her Cooper and shares horrific anti-Whaling videos on Facebook. She believes there is no greater act than raising awareness. Others take a contrary view to that.
Awareness is a term that click ‘n share activists use to justify their self-absorbed preaching on a social network. It’s merely a garnish in the main course of real change. It’s nice but you’ll never be the hero of the dish.
Tamara is running late for Uni. She got lost in a heated internet argument with some Scandinavian she’s never met on Facebook. By the 56th comment, Tamara is typing in full capitals and straight out copy and pasting from the Sea Shepherd website.
It was certainly 40 minutes well spent, and the 18 friends she tagged in to try and garner support were surely regretful that they didn’t jump in and help savage Bjorn.
Nevertheless, in Tamara’s mind, she isn’t debating, she is educating – and can education ever truly be a waste of time? Well, sure, if you ask her parents who sacrificed 7 years of holidays so Tamara could attend a private school to end up unemployed in a quinoa whispering commune.
She is so angry that someones weren’t completely swayed by the 3 months worth of semi correct whale factoids she’s picked up since deciding her life should be dedicated to the majestic beasts.
She storms into her parent’s kitchen and sits down to a meal of canned tuna and Jatz crackers. She stuffs the tuna/dolphin meat into her lip-ringed mouth while tweeting about how piss poor the Japanese are.
Wait until Bjorn finds out that Tamara eats canned tuna! Dolphin muncher.
Documenting the Human Zoo is thirsty work, so if you enjoyed what you read how about buying Belle a beer, ay?
