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One tiny spark from a cigarette butt thrown thoughtlessly from a car into drought-dried mulch, whipped by the winds from the Northerly furnace and in seconds the scrub is alight. The orange fire demon springs from the ground, licks then devours grass, shrubs, trees, fences, houses, cars. It grows, building smoke towers into the sky; brown and grey bulbous silos of smoke move like a Godzilla come to life. People flee or stay, trying to damp down the edges of the inferno. Fire-fighters arrive with all their gear, naively confident with well rehearsed drills. Helicopters circle, with TV crews filming the chaos, while others drop water from above. Frantic efforts follow the fire beast, trying to tame it and bring it to the ground.
I was holed up at home staying inside trying to shelter from the 45°C heat outside. I was concentrating, sorting through some papers, when finally the sounds of the sirens and helicopters registered in my awareness. I thought, “They sound close!” I immediately opened the blinds and looked at the ridge nearby – no sign of smoke. So I went to the front room and was stunned to see the familiar sight of an Aussie bushfire in full flight. Black, grey and brown towers of smoke billowed up into the blue sky. The orange flames leapt from treetops. Trees exploded. Three helicopters circled and hovered. Sirens announced the arrival of fire engines from all directions.
From my previous experience with the Ash Wednesday bushfires in 1983 I knew the first thing I had to do was change my clothes from the long loose cotton summer dress and bare feet to boots and full coverings. If you don’t change your clothes at the beginning there may not be another chance. Fighting fires in a cream office skirt and wedge-heeled sandals is not very practical (as I did in 1983). And we see too often refugees from these bushfires left with only the clothes they stand in.
I then phoned my husband to let him know. I organised buckets, hoses, mops, towels, and put the ladder to the roof. I climbed up to get a better view of the fire and cleaned out the recently fallen dead leaves from the gutters. It was a surreal moment as I relived the identical situation from 1983 when I stood on a different metal roof in another location with smoke billowing overhead, helicopters chopping through the smoke, and tress exploding. Luckily for me and my family on both occasions the fire past us by, but being in the ember fall means that you need to be on guard for spot fires and wind changes.
This recent fire happened one week before the massive and tragic fires that occurred on Saturday 7th February 2009. It was a day that reached over 46°C and the authorities had warned everyone and were on high alert. Unfortunately the fires erupted on many fronts across the states of Victoria and New South Wales. There were none near us on this day, but our son was attending a wedding at a winery in the Yarra Valley. He phoned us as the fire approached. They were surrounded by raging fires. He spent a worrying evening stranded inside the winery while helicopters water-bombed the building and surroundings. They were eventually allowed to travel home after the fires had passed.
Not all were lucky on that evening. The death toll sadly reaches towards 200. Yesterday the count was 173 with many still not found. Never before have so many people lost their lives in Australian bushfires. The speed and ferocity of these fire monsters seem to defy all plans of escape.
I heard a man on the radio today describe how the fire passed over their town: literally travelled over the town above them in the sky and landed further along to wreak its havoc. He said the sound of the fireball roaring overheard was extraordinary. His town was untouched. While meanwhile the townships of Marysville and Kinglake are completely devastated and nothing remains.
Have you seen Baz Luhrmann’s epic Australia yet? I know that Aussies may feel compelled to see it, but my advice is to save your money. What a disappointment and embarrassment! And I love his other movies like Romeo and Juliet and Moulin Rouge.
It seems to me that Baz could not decide if he wanted to make a musical again, a comedy, an epic, a war movie, or some kind of Australian classic. He failed in all. Perhaps if he had indeed made if a musical the movie as it stands would have succeeded. It is full of cringe value for all Australians. The graphics are woeful. The dialogue is stilted, and the accents are overly exaggerated. The performances of some great actors are shallow and terrible. The only actor who was good was the young actor who was the narrator of the tale – Brandon Walters.
The scenes about the bombing of Darwin seemed to be over-the-top and aimed at a Hollywood audience rather than depicting the truth. But then I questioned myself and knew that my knowledge of the bombing of Darwin was scant. I did a little research in the library to try to discover what the facts were. The Australian War Memorial website has one short page devoted to the attacks. I found one book titled “Darwin’s battle for Australia: a history of Darwin’s role in the defence of Australian in WW2” by the Darwin Defenders and published in 2005. This 294 page book contains witness accounts and photographs from the events in Darwin at that time. Once again the local library manages to provide information that is relevant and of high quality content.
P.S. The power of the blogging world – very soon after I posted this I received the comment direct from the Australian War Memorial who pointed me in the direction of more of their resources. Thank you. My excuse is that it wasn’t because I was not being thorough in my research of their website, but because I had located the excellent book in my local library on the subject. I value their input and the power of Web 2.0.
Dorothea MacKellar’s famous ode to Australia echoes loudly down through the generations.
The harsh Australian sun has taken its toll on my fair freckled skin after a youth spent outdoors. This week I have had a basal cell carcinoma removed from my forehead.
Spending my childhood and teenage years outdoors without a hat or sunscreen was normal for me and my generation. I spent most of my free daylight hours outside playing tennis, swimming, and water-skiing. Cracked lips, peeling noses, and sun burnt skulls were badges of honour as proof of sun-worship. My skin did tan to a light golden colour and to me this was some kind of validation of my Australian identity, shunning my English, Scottish and French ancestry. I inherited my skin type from my mother and aunt and they both have had many nasty things cut and burnt from their skin. My aunt who will turn 90 years of age this year has had so many cuts made to her face that she looks like she has been in a car accident. She is not the slightest bit vain about it and I admire her common-sense and practical attitude.
I still enjoy an active outdoor life but nowadays I wear a hat and sunscreen. Unfortunately the damage is already done and I fear this little operation may be the first of many.
The recent Web 2.0 conference resulted in some new connections with suggestions and requests for more work. With a couple of days off work I know my workload is piling up. I have lots to do. I need to report on the conference; think about writing an article for an organisation whose representative approached me after my presentation, create more wikis, find some appropriate videos for classroom projects, transfer the library content from our intranet to the new content management system, as well as my usual library work. Not to mention catching up on reading the email, blogs and twitters that will be accumulating.
