I was recently contacted by a high school teacher in Western Australia, who said her year nine class was doing a project on the 2009 Victorian Bushfires, and having found my own diary entries on the ordeal, asked if I would be kind enough to read and respond to their reflections, as somebody who was in the thick of things.
I was so honoured to be approached, that I offered to publish their reflections, as a tribute to the strength and ongoing support of Australians nation-wide, as we prepare for another summer of unknowns. (Please stay tuned at the end for my own response). Here is what they wrote:

The Victorian Bushfires

During Term Four of 2009 I have been teaching a class of Year Nine girls at Merredin Senior High School in the wheat belt of Western Australia. Using the curriculum as my guide, the students needed to be introduced to the concepts of how to analyse still images. We use a ‘symbolic, written and technical’ code system where the students break down what they are viewing to then apply meaning to the image. To guide them through this process I collected a range of images to discuss in class.

One of those images was Sam (the koala) getting her much needed drink of water during the Victorian bushfires.

That one image sent our class onto a different path of discussion as, together, we learnt more about the devastation and destruction of the fires. I was able to contribute some emotion to the discussion as I lived in Canberra in 2002 when fire ravaged that city. What amazed me with my Year Nine girls was that they were interested, showed compassion and had a desire to want to know more.

Rather than write an essay about a collection of random images, we adopted the ‘Victorian Bushfires’ as our theme and began to look for more images. That was when I came across the website, ‘The Professional Hobo’—that contained an amazing blow-by-blow account of living through the Victorian fires. Again, my students were captivated.

So, we decided on another change in direction. We wanted ‘The Professional Hobo’ to know that people on the other side of Australia were still affected by what had happened back in February. We hadn’t lived through the fires directly, but we were trying to understand the pain, loss, grief and guilt that so many people are still feeling.

What we have created is a whole class essay – where every student has contributed a paragraph – where together we have cried in class and unified our work to symbolise how those communities affected by the fires came together in support of one another. This is our essay…

FROM THE ASHES CAME COMMUNITY SPIRIT

A few weeks into Term Four Mrs Attree came into the class and told us that we would be studying still images. She showed us some photos and one was of Sam (the koala) from the Victorian bushfires. Most of us sighed when we saw the picture. We felt sad as we thought about the poor animals that suffered. When we started asking Mrs Attree questions, we couldn’t stop. We really wanted to know how serious the fires were and what happened. Mrs Attree showed us more images from the bushfires as well as clips and news footage. We were all interested and stunned by what we were seeing. It was sad and heartbreaking to realise what people had gone through. We then looked at a website (‘The Professional Hobo’), where a lady had recorded what was happening as the fires were burning. We began writing a whole class essay to send to Nora. By having us write together, to create one document, we are hoping that it symbolises how the communities affected by the fires came together. -(Chevie)

The devastation of the fires is likely to be forever remembered as a series of facts: they occurred in February to March of 2009; more than 170 people perished; over 2000 homes were destroyed; countless numbers of animals were burnt and their habitat left as ash. Our class is now familiar with the language surrounding the devastation of fires. We also understand that despite these harsh facts and sad language, there was generosity. Those affected by the fires were inundated with donations, help, offers and a shoulder when they needed it the most. We have learnt that Australians pull together when they need to. -(Shanice)

It was actually horrible to see what the people affected by the Victorian bushfires had to go through. To try to comprehend the loss of homes, loss of life and the loss of wildlife and pets is very difficult. What is easy to comprehend and heartwarming to realise, is how many people who had lost everything helped others. The community spirit at that time was phenomenal. -(Ashlei)

As our class was looking at some images from the fires, there was one image that showed a house surrounded by burnt bush land. The house was virtually untouched by the fire. We then learnt that many whose homes had survived feel guilt. It is amazing when one house in a whole row of homes in a town may have ‘survived’ when all others were destroyed. But there should be no guilt felt, it’s not about blame or fault, so there should be no guilt either. -(Lou-Anna)

I have been looking at the picture of a house that survived the fires. It shows how close the fire got to it and how lucky they were that the fire spared their home. If it was my house I would be very glad that it survived. It would have been scary for everyone, but the one who would have been scared the most would have been my little sister. Poor Patricia would have been scared out of her pants! -(Sarah R.)

We were searching through some photos from the fires and came across one of a man standing where his house used to be. It had been burnt to the ground and he was standing in rubble and ash. That man could never have imagined that this would have happened. Our class had never felt like this before; we couldn’t comprehend what he must have been thinking or feeling. We all tried to understand his sadness and possibly his anger. I imagine he would have searched through that ash to try to find something that he could call his own – something that had survived the fire. -(Brooke)

I felt really sorry and sad when learning about the stories of the Victorian fires. It was very emotional for us in the class – let alone those who lost everything. I feel like we have so much compared to those who lost everything. I cannot imagine what it must be like to have to rebuild your home. -(Chevie)

It was really sad when we found out how many people had lost their lives in such a short period of time. When we were watching the news footage and looking at other images – everyone felt pain just seeing the photos. No one could imagine how hard it would have been to hurriedly pack a few possessions in their car and flee. Nor could we imagine how difficult it must have been for the firefighters; those amazing men and women. -(Grace)

These bushfires were a tragedy that affected many people. What we hadn’t realised was that there were so many different fires being fought all over the state of Victoria. Like a broom, they swept through whole townships destroying everything. There was also a sense of generosity when everyone donated money and items—that was heartwarming. -(Bianca & Rachael)

We felt saddened by all the images we saw of the wildlife affected by the fires. One image showed the burnt foot of a koala, where some small parts of pink flesh were visible through its blackened skin. Most of the animals that survived the fires and were healthy enough to return to their habitat couldn’t return. There was nothing to return to. Most of the bush land that was destroyed is now growing back – we hope that it returns to a flourishing bush land filled with wildlife and the sounds of nature. -(Ellie & Samantha)

Innocent wildlife fell victim to Mother Nature’s fury. These animals watched helplessly as their homes and habitats were engulfed by fire. Sam the koala became a symbol at the time of how animals were suffering. She was found by a firefighter after Sam’s home had been destroyed. She had been so desperate for water that she had drunk straight out of the firefighter’s bottle. Sam later passed away – but her story is one that was repeated throughout the Victorian fires in February and March. With so many animals suffering, there were many Victorian services (RSPCA, private veterinarians and nurses, animal shelters) who worked very hard to help those injured animals. So many animals perished and many are still recovering, but how people came to the aid of these animals is a perfect example of how the community came together to address the need. -(Magdalene & Jodie)

We now realise now why our parents were so stunned back in February, as they were learning the facts about what was happening in Victoria. We have learnt that so many who had lost everything kept fighting for their community and friends. We were amazed by the generosity of others as more than $3 million was raised for the victims. While this was evidence that Australians look after one another – it’s a situation that we would never want to see again. -(Zoe F.)

Over the last few weeks my classmates and I have been learning about the Victorian bushfires through analysing images taken during and after the fires. It’s so sad to think of the deaths and loss that occurred. Yet it’s heartwarming to know that over two thousand Red Cross volunteers helped out the people who lost their homes. It’s also heartwarming to recognise that the whole nation helped by giving clothing and making donations – letting the victims know that we care. -(Zoe B.)

The devastation caused by the fires left everyone mourning and in pain. The community spirit and the amazing generosity from around the world helped ease some of the pain. It was heartwarming to learn how people had helped each other at this time of need. I was especially impressed with one image I have seen where a shop owner put a sign at the front of the shop telling people to “Take what you need” over a supply of fresh fruit and vegetables. This was extremely kind and showed the world what a true Australian is like in a time of crisis. -(Shannon)

As much as we’ve tried with our short entries in this document, we understand that no words can really express how awful the Victorian bushfires were. Nobody deserves to go through that experience. The wave of pain over Australia at that time will never be forgotten. The spirit and strength of Australians will also never be forgotten. Please stay safe during this coming summer and support our firefighting heroes – it may be a job to them – but it’s amazing to us. -(Sarah BB)

This is a beautiful collection of reflections from a year nine class, coming to terms with a national disaster that happened thousands of kilometers from their homes, but very close to every Australian’s heart. To have the courage and empathy to put yourselves in the shoes of somebody who experienced something so dramatic and reflect on it is an amazing thing, and is the starting point for great humanitarian efforts and positive changes.

I was one of the lucky ones. I didn’t lose anybody I loved, nor any property during the fires. But there are very few degrees of separation here between the lucky ones and not so lucky ones; we all feel the effects. Thank you so much, Merredin Senior High School Year Nine girls, for your thoughts, efforts, and sympathy for those affected by the 2009 Victorian Bushfires. It is the positive energy and efforts of people like you that will help fire survivors continue to persevere in their efforts to rebuild.

(Never mind that the habit takes a few more than it saves).

The fires on Black Saturday took many people by surprise. As the hottest day on record, many Australians did what you do in such heat: they stayed inside, drew all the curtains, cranked the air conditioning, and went about their day – completely oblivious to the outside world.

And so on this day, that a friend of a friend unwittingly launched a campaign called “Smoking Saves Lives”.

Being a staunch smoker with a wife even more staunchly against having it in the house, our hero stepped out on this hot day for a cigarette. It was then, and only then, that he learned of the unprecedented fire raging towards his home at record speeds.

He had enough time to get inside, get his family, and get out. They lost everything else to the fires.

Had he not stepped outside for a smoke, our hero and his family may not have been so lucky. Thus, he is a new man, with a new mission; one that may go against the grain, but which could just as easily pick up speed in this strange world. He stands tall and proud, saying:

“SMOKING SAVES LIVES”!

Shout it from the tallest trees and the highest mountains, dude. You go.

After being home for a few days in the wake of a month-long evacuation due to the Victorian bush fires, we hear/smell/feel/see something that makes our hearts sing: rain. It pours overnight, and drizzles through the next few days. Although naysayers worry about erosion and the negative long-term restorative effects of too much rain, we all (naysayers included) sigh a large breath of relief as the bush fires across Victoria are either extinguished or rendered controllable.

Towards the end of the day, a few friends stop by. “We’re going bush; wanna come?” comes the invite that can’t be resisted. As the locals determine the route to be taken for our four-wheeling adventure, we realize that we are in for something of a morbid drive. In fact, we will be going over the very range where almost a month ago, we spotted smoke on that fateful day.

With a combination of trepidation morbid fascination, we pile into a few vehicles for our excursion.

This marks the first time I have even ventured south of Taggerty, and seen the street where we used to live, the bush retreat where I used to take yoga, and other landmarks that have survived the fires, but where all recognizable terrain has been altered. The large grouping of trees I used to use as a guide for the turnoff towards the Cathedral Mountains is gone. Instead we abruptly come upon a T-intersection that I only barely recognize as the turnoff towards a place we used to call home.

After getting over the initial shock of the changed landscape and burnt terrain, I close my eyes, opening them with a fresh perspective. I erase all the memories of the place I used to know, and witness my surroundings with new eyes. I choose not to mourn for this building, or that forest, and instead look at the scenery for what it is right now. No judgments, no pre-conceived notions.

And as we climb higher and higher over the range, and delve deeper and deeper into completely burnt out forest where unprecedented cyclonic winds created havoc that nobody could predict, we all can’t help but notice something. It is something that we are almost ashamed to admit, and nervous to vocalize. It almost seems wrong, and yet we are all overcome with this feeling: nature is still (and always) beautiful. When the human cost of the fires is not apparent (ie: the loss of property and lives), deep in the bush, mother nature prevails.

Where there was once lush green forest, there are now autumn reds and golds. Golden leaves (albeit singed leaves) blanket the rich red soil; soil that none of us knew was so red for the foliage that formerly covered it. The blackened tree trunks are a stark contrast to the rich gold and red, and a distant landscape of red, gold, brown, and even the occasional spot of green makes our new backyard a truly multi-coloured one.

Kelly and I feel oddly at home in this reminiscently autumn landscape, even though we know that these colours are largely uncommon in Australia. We inhale deeply, and are rewarded not with the scent of death and burnt ground, but instead the smell of re-growth. The damp and decomposing leaves on the ground remind us of nature in Canada preparing herself for a snowy winter with a blanket of natural compost that protects the ground and vegetation through the winter, and emerges mineralized and rich for spring growth.

So while we are reminded of autumn colours (and it is indeed now autumn in Australia), we are also feeling nature’s surge of energy and life that represents spring after a cold Canadian winter. Even five weeks after the bush fires broke out in Victoria, while the ground continues to smolder in the rain, we see how life perseveres; in the green bracken growing out of singed old bracken, the sprig of new growth wiggling out the top of a charred fern tree, the kookaburras that sing us their charming song I had gone without for too long, and the kangaroo that hops across our path.

And as the rich negative ions of fresh rain flood our senses, we realize something very, very important in the wake of the devastating 2009 Victorian bush fires: life goes on.

Home, Sweet Home

Tuesday, February 24, 2009 – DAY EIGHTEEN

Home, Sweet Home

After an extremely hesitant but positive response from a local authority that we could return home but must remain vigilant about the fires that are almost too close for comfort, we return home.

For a place we lived in for two days and evacuated from for almost three weeks, “home” is a relative term. In our absence, we came to terms with there being no home to go home to. So to actually have the things we grieved over already, to see the rooms we thought were gone, is actually a little anti-climactic, in a sick sort of way. For somebody who should be elated to return “home” to a sense of normality, I don’t even feel comfortable in my own skin, much less in this strange house filled with unfinished projects that we were forced to abandon on evacuation.

Then again, I am a Professional Hobo – a homeless wanderer. This should not be as strange a sensation to me as it seems to be.

Maybe it is because my cry is not a lone one; many people who have been evacuated and subsequently returned home are feeling similar things. All I can do is have confidence that our bed will soon enough feel like our bed, our kitchen table a place to eat, and our living room a place to relax. It will be a haven soon enough; this I must believe.

The fires in Victoria are far from over. A friend summed it up nicely when she said “this won’t be over until it snows.” Although I certainly hope the fires will be under control in a month or so, I also believe that we are all “once burnt, twice shy” (please pardon the sickly appropriate pun – I just couldn’t help myself) this season. We will all wearily approach the hot and sunny days for the rest of this year (and others to come) that would normally be cause for celebration.

We are also not likely home for good either. We are already being told that this Friday is going to pose extreme fire threats, and that we will likely evacuate again.

But the constantly evolving activities of the first few weeks of being a part of the Victorian Bush Fires seems to have curbed a bit. There is still drama, politics, high emotions, and tragedy. But there is also a “pick up the pieces and get back to the grindstone” mentality that takes over and keeps us all going. If we do not move forward in life, we fall backwards; there is no standing still.

We all know that eventually life will return to some sense of normality, however different it is from what we knew. We all know that where forests and land is brown and burnt, with a rainy winter season will start to recover and return to greenery.

And so it is with this knowledge that life prevails, that we all simply carry on, in the face of the huge fires that continue to burn.

All we can do now, is carry on.

This marks the end of the Victorian Bush Fire Diaries. The fires are far from over, but after 18 days, you – the reader – have a good idea of what life has been like. We are in this for the long haul. Thanks to everybody for your support, and keep reading The Professional Hobo for continued (and hopefully, more lighthearted!) observations from life on the road.

NOTE AS OF DATE OF PUBLICATION:

As you can imagine, even between Feb 24^th and now, so much water has passed under the bridge. We evacuated and returned home three more times. We woke up to beautiful rain one morning, and also felt more of those hot dry winds that made our stomachs turn. The daily drama and politics continues and has evolved on all fronts, as they do.

I am pleased to say that I am publishing this post from the comfort of my sunny desk at home, and that after two days of rain, the fires burning nearby are projected to be under control in the next few days. For the first time since the fires began a month ago, I can comfortably leave home without my passport, laptop, and evacuation bag in the car.

What I can say now, is that I have a new understanding for why so many Aussies prefer winter!

Enjoying the ocean, and a different kind of fire…

Friday-Sunday, February 20-22, 2009 – DAYS FOURTEEN to SIXTEEN

Too many “last straws” have come and gone…we need a rest. My own small break in taking a trip to Melbourne was not exactly restful, and Kelly has worked two full weeks in a highly-charged environment with just one day off. And so the rest is granted, when a friend who lives on the coast calls to say they have left town for the weekend, and the keys are in the door to their beachside home.

We need this break badly…the smoke, the emotion, the politics, and simply continuing to be evacuated has taken a toll. With a few days of rest, we are confident that we can return to the tasks at hand with new vigor.

The six hour drive to the tiny community of Golden Beach, located on the famous stretch of Ninety Mile Beach (which leaves little to the imagination), is half the fun….ROAD TRIP! And pulling into this quaint beachside town is the icing on the cake.

Highlights of our time off include spectacular fish and chips on the beach, doing handstands, collecting sea shells and sea horses, and spending hours contemplating the waves.

On the drive back, a slight detour rewards us with bay-side foliage that is a dead-ringer for Hawaii. We reminisce about times gone by, before returning to our reality.

We arrive back to our smoky community to discover that our home (to which we were sincerely hoping to return) is under the most severe threat since the fires began. All remaining residents (and yes, some residents did remain after the initial evacuations, as there is no way to force an evacuation on anybody in Australia) are advised to evacuate tonight, in anticipation of a hectic upcoming day on the fire lines. This was the “no shit, you really need to evacuate” notice. So conceding the next night – or many nights – to homelessness is tough to come “home” to. We are officially over the novelty of bouncing from friends’ house to friends’ house, if there ever was a novelty to it. The desire to cook one of our special veggie-filled stir fries is percolating in us…we miss our happy healthy routines.

I would imagine that living on high alert for fire every day is not dissimilar to living in war zones or other backyards to potential danger. You exist on a minute to minute basis, always ready for whatever risk lays at bay to flare up and turn your world upside down. Although there is something to be said for being forced to live in the present moment (not a bad thing), overall this is still no way to live.

But how do you live then? I spoke to a fellow who lived with the 2003 fires in Victoria; relatively small fires by comparison to these. His community existed with the threat of fire and heavy smoke for six weeks before the fires took out his home and entire rural community. Six weeks. Six weeks of waiting and living with the fires, the smoke, the evacuations, the ash. Six weeks of high alert, mis-information, and rumour. In six weeks, I can only imagine you would become complacent; we already have in just two weeks. We remain safe and vigilant, but there is a part of me that believes this will all wash over with no harm coming directly to me or mine. This news of a six week debacle hits me hard, as I realize we could yet be far from “out of the woods”.

In returning to our reality, we are reminded of a story shared with us by a very wise friend:

“I’m looking for the tunnel,” says a woman who is in strife (the circumstances of which are irrelevant).

“What tunnel?” comes the response.

“You know – the tunnel. The tunnel which has a light at the end of it. When I am in the tunnel, at least I have direction – towards the light. I may be in the dark, but I know where to go, and I know there will be an end to the suffering,” she says matter-of-factly.

She goes on to talk about tunnels past. “When you look back at those tough times, no matter how dark and long the tunnel seemed at the time, with perspective it inevitably never seems like it was that long a time. Remember this when you are looking for your next tunnel.”

It seems like every night I sleep somewhere else. I wake up in the middle of the night – as I do, to pee – and have to re-orient myself before trying to get up. I struggle to remember where I am, how I am oriented (is the door to my right? Or at my feet? What will I trip over between the bed and the toilet?), and if I’m lucky I have thought ahead and have a headlamp at my side, since surely finding a light switch will be impossible.

It is a different world in Melbourne, on the best of days. The differences are all the more glaring when rural bush fires are introduced. The majority of the people we chat with in Melbourne are not even aware that the fires are still burning. “Oh, is that fire stuff still happening?” is a common line we hear throughout the day, making us cringe each time. Yikes. The fire consumes us, literally and figuratively. How these people can be blissfully unaware of the continuously burning fires, some of which are only an hour away and on two sides of the city, is unknown to me. But then again, maybe it isn’t so foreign; once the media loses hold of a story (as it has done), so too does the public.

After a day of running around in Melbourne, we head back “up the hill” to Alexandra. On the way, we pass some very large plumes of smoke that give us shudders, reminding us gently that fire can flare up and that the battle is far from over. We agree that we must be crazy for driving back INTO the fire zones to return home, when most traffic is going the opposite way.

Returning to town is a stark reminder of the dark and smoky world that is – and will continue to be – Alexandra and the nearby towns. The pit in my stomach and growing nausea during the two hour drive home is proof.

Although this image of charred ground may not look dramatic, you may think differently if you knew what it looked like before.

Wednesday, February 18^th, 2009 – DAY TWELVE

The pleasant distractions of last night end when I cough and sputter my way into reality from a solid sleep; the smoke is thick and full. This is no cause for alarm per se – this is par for the course. But a bloody nuisance none-the-less.

The official death toll is at 200, and expected to rise.

A girlfriend is heading into Melbourne today to visit her family, and this is a welcome opportunity to get away myself, given last night’s tirade of emotionally-driven lash outs.

As we drive to Melbourne (taking the long way around due to burnt out – and burning – stretches of road along the direct route), we pass through vast areas of land burnt by the fires last week. We see black upon black upon black. Trees are scorched, and the leaves that remain at the tops have gone golden brown and are dead. If it weren’t for the black tree trunks and ash-covered ground, the golden hue of the leaves would actually remind me of autumn colours in Canada. This is not quite the reminder of home that I am looking for.

We marvel at the houses that remain standing, in the middle of fields of charred grass.

The destruction is wide spread, touching the back fence of heavily populated suburban areas that are hours of driving away from where we live. You can look on a map all you like at the areas affected by the Victorian bush fires…it is not until you actually SEE it that it starts to hit home.

While we drive, I imagine the fire as it raged through a week and a half ago…some people explain it as a tumbling ball of fire; an out-of-control tumbleweed of death and destruction.

We muse on other natural disasters…a tsunami wave crushes then ebbs. Earthquakes are short-lived. Storms last relatively short times before losing strength. But fires: they can last – and have lasted – months. They can even live dormant in root systems only to flare up months after the flames have been extinguished.

In Melbourne, after having some great “girl time” and gaining a new lease on life with a totally different hairdo, we hop back into the car and realize just how smoky it smells. We are immediately reminded of fire, smoke, and ash – all smells that our noses had become accustomed to but that are foreign as far away as the city.

So when we head back inside again, we forget the smoke for a night and enjoy the company of family, friends, and some good old fashioned pampering. It is just what the doctor orders.

In addition to the hundreds of pumper trucks coming in and out of the Alexandra staging area, armoured personnel carriers are now part of the flotilla. These guys are serious.

Tuesday, February 17^th, 2009 – DAY ELEVEN

Apparently we are not the only ones living out of our car…we pile our belongings into the car this morning only to meet the stench of death. We had seen signs of a critter in the gnaw-marks in our food items stored in the car, but we figured our small companion was a one-time visitor, not a resident. But now it seems our make-shift boarding house has become a morgue.

Once over the initial wave of stink-induced nausea, I sit down to breakfast at the DSE/CFA base camp in a tent with no less than 80 people. I am a social person, yet I don’t remember the last time I was alone save for my shower time (which is also rushed due to sharing bathrooms with up to six other people).

The day flies by with relatively little drama, thankfully. Working at the donations relief warehouse is not only a welcome distraction from a lot of the emotion surrounding these bush fires, but almost a necessary distraction; in order to get the job done, some detachment is required. This says nothing of the potential, though, for some emotional purging at the end of the day.

As such, after feeling physically unwell through most of the day (inspired I am sure by the rotting critter in the car), my emotions catch up with me and I barrage Kelly with a series of sentences starting with “I’m tired of…” and ending with things both rational and otherwise. Despite having a day off two days ago, I think I need another.

For now, we wind down with some friends, distracting ourselves a little further. Distraction has now become a survival tactic.

There are over 400 tents pitched at the showgrounds, with over 600 emergency workers sleeping in shifts. (And this is not the only base camp established in the area). That’s allotta fire fighting going on.

Monday, February 16th: DAY TEN

As we pull up to the DSE/CFA base camp in Alexandra for breakfast, I see yet more tents set up in the oval. This means even more people have been brought in to combat the fires. I have been using the number of tents pitched as a barometer to gauge how bad the fires are, and how close we are to having them under control. So with this new influx of tents, I am dismayed. There are over 400 tents pitched, with over 600 emergency workers sleeping in them in shifts.

A story from the donations relief warehouse yesterday in our absence:

A psychologist calls up the warehouse, saying they are working with three refugee families that are staying in Alexandra. This psychologist is desperate to get her hands on two goldfish, goldfish being former pets of a little girl in one of these families. Sadly, we are fresh out of goldfish at the warehouse, but are inspired. The guy receiving the request races around sourcing the fish and an appropriate bowl; no easy task on short notice  – on a Sunday no less – in a small town. After delivering the fish, we get a call from the psychologist, in tears. Apparently those two fish completely calmed and placated the three families staying in that house. Here we are running around trying to provide clothing, furniture, and household goods of all kinds, and all it takes is a few goldfish! Who knew.

Today flies by, and in a good way. The onslaught of trucks carrying donations has ebbed, allowing us to continue to sort and start to distribute the goods to those in need.

The tragic thing is that some people are capitalizing on the free goods on offer, and those who aren’t affected by the fires are taking donated relief supplies for themselves. Sadly, it appears that we will have to instate some sort of regulation to prevent this from continuing.

The media has also let go of its hold on the story; 10 days of coverage and now the fires are old news, regardless of how active they still are. This is a blessing in disguise, as most people involved with the fires have had very few positive things to say about the tone of coverage. It is the same old story: if it bleeds, it leads. Very little of that “positive story crap” graces the headlines. And so allowing people to get on with their lives in privacy seems to be welcome overall. What it will also do is curb the nation’s (and the world’s) level of awareness and empathy, but I guess you can’t have it all.

As I lay in bed contemplating sleep, I realize that I – and many others in the area – am much less pre-occupied with the idea of the fires’ destruction taking me by surprise than I was a week ago, when all this began. Not only does a little knowledge go a long way (ie: the fires won’t overtake you by storm on a calm cool night!), but it is hard to be on such high alert all the time.

So what do you do? What else? You simply go about your day.

Sunday, February 15^th, 2009 – DAY NINE

8:00am

Waking up in and living with smoke takes a toll over time. Your head constantly feels foggy, keeping headaches tenuously at bay. Your throat is raspy, sore, and dry, except for that little chunk of mucus in the back you just can’t seem to cough clear. You blow your nose and clear black mucus from your nostrils. And the constant aroma of smoke is far from pleasant. Having your senses overloaded with these stimuli every morning makes it difficult to wake up on the right side of the bed in a positive head space; it is a constant conscious battle.

3:30pm

Eight days after evacuating our house, we return to it. Knowing it is fine before arriving makes it a relatively easy thing to do. Also knowing that the mountains at the back are on fire means no startling surprises.

Seeing the house has been an intense desire through most of the week, almost inexplicably so. Knowing that so many houses have been flattened by fire creates a need (however illogical) to make sure beyond all doubt that it is okay. There are also a few items (official documents and such) that preyed on our minds all week as a need to have in our possession and protection, and it is nice to put our hands on them.

The fire behind the house is burning slowly and is stable – even controlled – and between the house and the mountain/fire is a whole range of runway-esque control lines bulldozed into the land that would confuse even an air traffic controller. We collect a few of the things we need, do some fire-prevention cleaning up around the property, and bid adieu to it once again. We are confident that we will return to it in ship shape condition, once again….sometime.

10:00pm

An entire day and evening in Taggerty has been interesting…I am going with the idea that a change is as good as a rest on this one, since there was not much “rest” to be had today. The threat of fire is considerably higher and more constant. Staying at the house of a friend in the CFA (with other CFA friends coming in and out) has been an exercise in pagers going off and mad dashes made to cars many times in a day. Being able to see fire a few hills over (about 2kms away) is even less of a consolation.

But even so, those few moments spent, all of us together and enjoying some great company and light-hearted conversation – just like old times – is refreshing and comforting. Having an entire day away from the warehouse and able to process everything that has happened in the last week has been therapeutic. Time to reflect on the events of the last week-that-feels-like-a-month is very necessary; too many people are trying to go hard, working tirelessly on their causes (be it fighting fire, volunteering, or providing relief of some sort) and not leaving an inch for personal time or space. But living constantly with such high emotions around you, the constant lurking threat of fire, and not reserving any personal time is a recipe for disaster.

And so it is with personal time and a refreshed perspective that I go to bed, ready to face another week of amazing and satisfying work.