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Datuk Brigadier (Retd.) Hj Ismail bin Iskander looked over the assembly in the small meeting room. There was a tinge of sadness in his eyes for all the effort that these wonderful people had put into the fight. Even now they looked up at him standing at the table with just the faintest trace of hope that he could pull something, something magical, out of the bag. Ismail took a deep breath and gave them the latest news that he, as Chairman of the pro tem committee, had received from the local Council.
The campaign had started a year ago - as soon as the notices had gone up at the bottom of the hill. Somebody, whose name had now been lost in the mist of paperwork, had told somebody else and they had told others and so the news had spread; that there was to be a development on the top of the hill. The hill. Our hill. One tall, stately hill that rose four square and proud out of the very centre of the small town. A hill that could be seen from everywhere within the town boundaries, it was a landmark; it was something that people could navigate by and tell their friends that the hill "over there" is our hill" and that we live "just the other side of it so that it shades us from the morning sun".
Everybody loved the hill. Everybody knew where they were in relationship to it and where everybody else was. It was a focal point. It had stood, enduring all, for generations. Unchanging, faceless but faithful to all irrespective of rank or trade it stood as an anchor for all the residents.
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Now "they", the anonymous councillors, the ubiquitous "changers-of-things" were going to develop it - our hill. How dare "they". The people arose and formed the pro tem committee. Ismail had agreed to head it as Chairman and others of rank and status had agreed to stand by him as various bearers of office.
T-shirts had been manufactured and sold so that all and sundry could show that they, too, supported the noble cause. Car stickers had been printed and were displayed. Parties were held, on the hill, that were sponsored by local dignitaries and persons of fame and good repute. Songs were sung at the parties even in the rain, on occasion, but spirits were not dampened - the fight would go on.
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A meeting was held with the local council. The Chairman of the Council listened attentively to the arguments; he made notes and, now and then, nodded. Legal issues were raised and some voiced moral and ethical arguments against the development. Somebody mentioned that the cost would be prohibitive and who, they should like to know, would be bearing that expense?
A few months passed by before word was received that the development had been approved. It was just a question of time. Hope shone forth when the State Council said that an appeal could be launched. Not much chance, they thought, of success but if an appeal was not made then success was surely dashed.
The residents gathered signatures. They stood at market squares and in front of popular shops and eating places enticing people passing by to sign petitions. Thousands they collected. In due course they were handed in with letters from people of substance. The Council could be in no doubt that the people - their constituents, cared.
The news was in.
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Ismail took another deep breath.
"Thank you. Thank you all for your fine and determined efforts. You have shown yourselves to be the best of friends and allies. The Council have indicated, however, that we shall have to tolerate the dirt and dust; the disruption to our walking schedules and routes; and the rumble of heavy lorries up and down the hill. The final approval has gone through and, in spite of our best efforts throughout the last months from August 2162 to September 2163, the three condominiums at the top of the hill are to be pulled down and a stand of trees planted in their place. The residents of the condos are to be fully compensated immediately."
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