In the claws of devastating bush-fires — Day 1

There was nothing anyone could do to help — yet the words we say can build and heal or kill.

Tuesday, 31st October

“Just one more hot day, and then everything will be all right. We just need to survive the last hot day,” — I said to George when leaving for work on Tuesday morning. At that time, I didn’t even realise the meaning of my own words.

While driving to the city, I thought about the weird dream I had that night. An Eastern Brown snake bit my hand, but it didn’t kill me. The snake ran out of poison, so I was saved. At first, I tried to ignore the dream, putting it back on the fact that George had told me the day before that he saw a brown snake in one of my sheds. Nonetheless, the unsettling gut feeling wouldn’t leave me alone. “Something horrible will happen, but it won’t destroy me,” I thought to myself while trying to figure out what it could be.

I arrived at the motel, and Becky, the receptionist, welcomed me with the words, “Will you come to the Halloween Party? It will start around 6 pm. It would be nice if you could pop in, even if just for a few minutes, but if you can’t, it’s all right. I understand you are so busy.”

“I’ll try to come; I’m sure it will be a great party! But I won’t be here before 7 pm,” — I replied

The morning was very busy at work, and I had no time to think about anything else.

Around 1:30 pm, I went for a walk to buy lunch. Suddenly my phone pinged and I got a message from George: “Can I give you a call?”. So I called him.

“There is smoke everywhere. I don’t know what to do! I’ve my caravan out… Should I go?… What should I take with me?… There is no one to help me!…” — George was panicking.

“If you feel safer to go, then pack the animals and go.” — I replied calmly.

“But what if it is just a false alarm? What if I don’t need to go? My caravan isn’t insured… I don’t have money to insure it… What if I have an accident?” — George was shaking.

“Insure your caravan; I will pay for it. In the meantime, I will call the emergency services and check what is happening,” — I replied.

“The fire is getting closer as we speak… I can send you a photo,” — he said.

“That’s a good idea. Send me the photo, please,” — I replied.

It took me some time to calm George down. When I finished talking to him, I called the emergency services, just in case. They connected me to their base hundreds of kilometres away from my home and told me, “There is nothing to worry about. There is a small fire, but all is under control”. I passed the information to George, saying I would check with him in about an hour. I got my lunch and went back to work.

An hour later, I called George again. He was much more distressed. I wanted to go to my meeting, but the disquieting feeling in my stomach was getting stronger and stronger.

“I’ll be a bit late for the meeting… I need to call the emergency services… There are fires around my farm, and it looks like the fire entered the back of my property,” — I said to my work colleague who organised the meeting.

I called the emergency services and… “You called us before and reported the fire. We told you there is nothing to worry about,” — said the office lady.

“I know I called before, but something isn’t right! I have animals on my farm, and I’m being told the fire is already on my farm!” — I said in a firm voice.

“All right, if you insist, we can send someone to check on your farm, but someone needs to meet us at the gate”, — said the lady on the phone, and so I got them to meet George on the farm.

A few minutes later, I called George and told him to pack the animals and go. “If you can’t get Twinkles, don’t stress about it. I’m going home and will get her,” I said.

“I have all the animals in the car already. Twinkles was distressed, but I got her too” — he replied.

We finished our conversation, and George would head to the caravan park about 35km north of our home. I walked back to my desk, and my phone rang.

“Hi Jan, where are you? Are you home?” asked my neighbour, in a very unusual for him, trembling voice

“Hi Garth, no, I’m in the city… I heard about the fires…” — I mumbled, trying to get my thoughts together.

“We can’t get home… I’ve got to try someone else… bye,” — said Garth and hung up.

“Oh no, the dogs!” — I thought to myself, realising that his lovely dogs would be in the kennels at that time of the day. The dogs were trapped! All these things made me realise how serious the situation was. My neighbour never panics; he is always cheerful, and no matter how challenging the situation, he will keep calm.

“Are you all right, Jan?” — I heard someone asking me. It was one of the big bosses.

“Yeah… kind of…” — I said, still struggling to comprehend what was happening, and after a few seconds, I added in my confident voice “, I’m all right, but I need to leave earlier today. I mean, I need to leave now. The area where I live, including my farm, is on fire.”

“I’m so sorry…” said the boss. She got up and walked towards me while I was packing my stuff. Standing beside me, she asked me, “Can I hug you? You look like you need one.” I nodded. She hugged me warmly, and after a few seconds, she looked me in the eyes and said, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”.

Suddenly, I felt slight relief. The words “Is there anything I can do to help you?” filled me with warmth. There was nothing anyone could do, but I felt noticed, understood, and supported. I felt I wasn’t alone and I mattered.

I arrived at my motel and walked into my room. I called Lidia, my neighbour down the road.

“Hi, I heard about the fires. Where are you? Are you safe?” — I asked her

“Hi, Jan… yes, we are safe, but we had to evacuate… The fires came to the door… I will send you a video,” — she replied in a sombre and confused voice

We chatted for a couple of minutes, and as soon as we hung up, she sent me the footage of the view from her carport just before she left. It was petrifying.

I packed my car, and before I left, I met Becky. I told her what had happened. She shared with me her experiences with fires.

“Have you lost your home to fires?” — l asked her in a slightly sheepish voice. I didn’t want to bring back any bad memories, but I needed some strength and hope. And it is exactly what I get when I hear stories of those who overcame similar disasters.

“Luckily not. Everything around burned, but they saved the house,” — she replied, and I felt hope filling my heart. “I’m sorry I can’t come to your party… I’m sure it will be great,”- I said, and she hugged me, saying, “All good. Stay safe and everything will be all right”. Her words gave me courage. She knew how I felt because she walked in my shoes.

Like in a trans, I entered the motorway. Everything seemed so surreal. I was oblivious to the heavy traffic surrounding me; I wasn’t bothered by the snail-speed we progressed. Was I dreaming, or was the world real? 50km further, I left the city behind me and kept driving towards the ranges, passing endless farms, fields sprinkled with cattle grassing peacefully.

I was almost halfway home when I noticed an open fire brigade station. I stopped and walked to them, hoping maybe they could give me some hint on what was happening, but they were fighting fires on the east side of the mountains, unaware of what was happening on the other side.

The sun set down, darkness engulfed the world, and I kept driving. My phone was pinging as concerned friends, including John, were checking on me.

“Honey, please stay with George at the caravan park. Don’t drive home. Is too dangerous,” — wrote John.

“I’m driving home. I want to protect my home,” — I replied, determined to drive to my farm.

“Your life is more important. Material things can be replaced,” — continued John.

“Not all things can be replaced. What about photos? Or memorabilia I got from loved ones who passed away? And all my writings and plans I have with them?… And what about my animals? Their life is in danger too.” — I was furious. “Yes, most material things can be replaced if you have the cash, but some things are priceless and will never be replaced.” — I thought to myself, upset about the insensitivity of these words. John wasn’t the only one who said it to me. I understand that people worry about me, but… sometimes it is better to say nothing than hurt someone even more.

Messages were coming, and good-wishing friends unintentionally kept hurting me with words like “What doesn’t kill you, makes you stronger”, or “It’s not the first time you are facing adversities; you will be fine” or “It’s all for the better. You are strong, you will get through it, as you did in the past” and so on. I understand that my friends had the best intentions, but none of them went through what I was just facing, and as their words were true, they weren’t helpful at all.

“They could straight say, ‘Hey, I don’t care how you feel right now; call me when you are back to your happy self’” — I thought to myself, feeling lonely and ununderstood. I was angry. felt as if the entire world was against me, trying to stop me from fighting for my home. The best words I heard that day were, “Is there anything I can do to help you?”. These words show care and understanding.

Sometime later, I got a message that the highway was closed.

“Then I sleep in the car until they let me through” — I replied annoyed

“You can’t. They are sending everyone away. The fires are out of control, spreading rapidly. It’s much too dangerous!” — wrote Tom

“I don’t care… I’m driving home!” — I replied boiling with anger

“You are so stubborn… Okay, but stop and check on George and the animals first. They worry about you, too,” — he continued.

“Okay, I can do that. But then I drive home!”

I stopped at the caravan park and walked to George. The dogs were over the moon to see me. Jeffrey was in his cage and covered for the night, but he was calling, too, knowing that I had come. And George was so relieved and even happy seeing me. We talked for a while, and when I said I was going to drive home, George got into panic mode — how should he deal with all the animals and the situation on his own? He got angry, but I left, determined to drive home.

When I sat in the car, Tom called me, still trying to convince me to stay. Suddenly, I felt so torn. I wanted to go home and fight the fire, but at the same time, all my animals George saved were my responsibility, too. Plus, George can’t handle much stress, which isn’t that good, considering his heart condition. I don’t want him to have a heart attack…

I argued with Tom for a while and then decided to stay. I returned to the caravan, and George couldn’t be happier when I said I was staying.

It was after 9 pm when I got a call from my other neighbour.

“Hi Mike, I can’t get home! I’m stuck at the caravan park… Do you have any idea what is going on at the farm?” — I answered the call.

“Hi Jan, yeah… I’m on the farm now… I’m sorry, Jan, but it doesn’t look good… Your entire farm is on fire… I cut the fences to take your animals to my place… they were stuck at the fence surrounded by fires and had nowhere to go…” — he replied

“Thank you so much, Mike! I appreciate it very much.” I replied and soon after added, “How did you get there? I was told the highway is closed, and I can’t get through.”

“Yes, the highway is shut, but I know a few farmers here, so I got through their properties” — he replied. This wasn’t surprising. His family has been living in the area for generations.

“Do you know anything about my house? Is it still standing?” — I asked him in a composed voice, fearing the answer.

“I don’t know… I haven’t been up there; it’s too dangerous…” — he replied, trying to keep calm.

“Is the fire brigade there? Is anyone there fighting the fires?” — I continued asking.

“Oh yes, plenty of vehicles and firefighters here. There is a helicopter taking water from my dam, and it looks like they are water-bombing your home, but I can’t be sure.”

Mike’s words gave me some hope and brought a tiny bit of comfort. We talked for a while, and he said he would call me when he got more information. The following hour was one of the longest in my life. All the thoughts about the hundreds of litres of diesel and other machinery oils and fuel stored in my sheds run through my head. It felt like my home was sitting on bombs… And there was nothing I could do to try and save my home…

After 10 pm, I couldn’t wait any longer and rang Mike again. He didn’t have much news for me, but it looked like the house was still standing, and the firefighters were still fighting to save my property. There still was hope.

While I laid in bed that night looking through the skylight at the dark sky, I realised that while others were celebrating Halloween, the volunteer firefighters of our rural fire brigade were fighting to save our homes, and we were praying there wouldn’t be any lives lost and our homes not burn down. In all this, I was still lucky that George had his caravan where I could have a bed, and my caravan was safe at Tom’s place (otherwise, it would be on the property at the risk of being burned down).