Christmas in Australia: watching a nation go up in flames
Citizens are banding together as the world watches, but what about tomorrow?
We watched a gum tree explode in flames.
It was Jan. 2, a girls’ night out, to “Paint and Sip,” one of those typically Aussie fun events where we all painted a picture, in this case, a Kookaburra, while sipping wine. We knew a bush fire had come within three kilometres of us.
We were staying with my husband’s brother and sister-in-law and family in Wangi Wangi, New South Wales. The name of this little town of about 2,900 is an Aboriginal term believed to mean water, as it sits on a peninsula on a coastal lake. It’s about a 90-minute drive north of Sydney.
Each day, for weeks, smoke from the growing fires along the central east coast would drift in and out, depending on the wind direction. Temperatures peaked in the 40s.
The houses and stores were decorated for the Christmas season, as odd as that seemed to this Canadian. Santa arrived in a boat Christmas Eve and after a light rain we awoke to clear blue skies Christmas Day.
The fires still raged north and south of us along the central east coast. There just wasn’t enough rain and hadn’t been for months.
We saw the awful plume of smoke around the next bend on Lake Macquarie New Year’s Day. The local fireworks New Year’s Eve had been cancelled when a strong southerly wind came up threatening to send embers onto the dry, grassy shore.
The bush fires, combined with heat into the 40s and drought, had come earlier this summer and, as the world came to know, more deadly and catastrophic than ever.
The “fires,” mostly with the RFS, Rural Fire Service, were working around the clock in an attempt to contain the mega blazes.
That day, we were seeing the results up close: gum trees with blackened trunks, smoke curling up from the charred ground, littered with white ash, like surreal snow, the smell of smoke thick in the air, stinging our eyes and catching in our throats.
The road to Wangi had reopened but the flames had come right up to the road, burning the sign, leaving only “ngi Road” with “Toronto 6” pointing the other way, barely visible. (Yes, there are other Torontos in this world, this one considerably smaller than the one back home.)
There were fire trucks and weary crews every few hundred metres and we gazed in wondrous horror at the sight of that one gum tree, fuelled by its eucalyptus oil, bursting into a flash of red and yellow against the night sky.
Bush fires are a natural phenomenon in Australia, nature’s way of procreating some plant species. Historically, Indigenous Australians used fire to clear grasslands for hunting and planting but the arrival of Europeans, whose lifestyles altered the landscape, global warming and sadly, arson in too many cases, has replaced acceptance in the hearts and minds of Australians with a visceral fear. The country’s population is centred along its vast coastal regions. However, where rural communities and new development meet bushlands, the danger increases dramatically.
The dry and parched farmland we saw during a drive into once green Hunter Valley wine country, and wilted leaves on the vines, reminded us of the suffering that surrounds us: lives, livelihoods and so many animals lost, homes destroyed, communities running low on water reserves, fires, the beloved and heroic firefighters killed, maimed or exhausted. We are among the lucky ones.
There is anger and debate about federal management of this emergency, how some local cost-cutting measures, including cancelling backburns, a proactive action to counteract a potential fire, may have contributed to this disaster. Global warming conversation intensifies.
The people of Wangi, like so many communities, are responding to the plight of their fellow countrymen with donations and fundraisers. The power company is giving firefighters a break on their electrical bills and thankfully much of the world is watching, talking and assisting for now … but what about tomorrow?
The beautiful birds of Australia, the lorikeets, galas, cockatoos and that kookaburra that I watched one morning perched on a lush gum tree by the lake, have the best chance of fleeing these flames and I hope, like the one in my painting, they will watch over a new resolve to paint a brighter future for Australia and the entire planet.