So now we deal with the aftermath, I guess. We look after the thousands of homeless; we hold out hopes for those still missing; we console those who lost loved ones, family, friends, pets, livelihoods and houses.
And we completely fail to take in the magnitude of this disaster. It is a disaster - officially, Australia's worst natural disaster in the history of European settlement. One hundred and seventy-three people are dead. Many more are missing. Almost one thousand properties are completely destroyed and it's estimated that over five thousand people are homeless and living in emergency relief centres - in schools and town halls, where they share their space with people in the same situation and where the air is filled with grief and hope and desperation.
In my safe little place, I find myself grateful for everything. Last night, after I went for a run, I was grateful for the fact that I had a shower, shampoo, soap... that I had a house in which to keep all of these things. I'm grateful for feeling cold. I'm grateful that I've been able to brush my teeth every day and wear a different set of clothes.
And I keep relating it to me, which is probably the most selfish thing of all. But I can't help it. When my home town came on the news, the reporter said something like "And the worst hit area was Steels Creek Road". Well, guess which road I used to live on? It’s a long a beautiful road, leading from the edge of town right into genuine bush – isolation and towering gums, a road with crumbling edges, where trees crowd up against you as you travel along it. I was the first stop on the bus route and I spent six years watching the trees go past on the hour-long trip to school. It’s surely blackened and ruined now.
Almost lifeless.
The Age printed a map this morning, which I scanned. It shows the areas burnt out by the fire (and the number of people killed, which is still hard to take in). There's another of those handy arrows, pointing pretty much directly at the place where you could expect to find the house in which I grew up. I hope it's just the land that's been burnt there. I hope the house is still standing and that the people who live there now are OK.

The Age has a section dedicated to the bushfires here, but here are a few articles that are significant for me: Skyline Road’s Panorama of Obliteration (Skyline Road runs parallel with the road I used to live on); Bushfire Recovery (photos of the aftermath, many from the road I lived on); I Now Understand the word “Firestorm" (quite a moving survivor’s story; a little graphic, though – be warned).
And I also have a little gallery of pictures – some taken from The Age website and some from a family friend who still lives in Yarra Glen. I want to know if my ugly old town’s OK. I want to know that people still have homes there – that they’re going to stay, no matter what. I want to know if there’s hope amidst the misery of the aftermath.
Then I have to ask, What can you do for people who’ve lost everything? I guess the answer to that is: everything. That’s pretty much what you need if you have no house, no clothes, no nothing. The Red Cross is running an appeal and are asking people to be patient when it comes to donating blood. They can only deal with so many people at once. The Salvation Army is also taking donations for the victims.
And people are finding their own ways to contribute.
mawaridi, for instance, is donating all proceeds from her Etsy store to the appeal.
As for me, I still haven’t worked out what I want to do. All I know is that I want to do something. Sure, I’ll be going through my house this weekend and donating every single thing I don’t really need. I’m going to try to get over my squeamishness and donate blood. And I’d give money, but it doesn’t seem like enough. Although money’s very helpful, obviously, I just want to give something more.
I want to do something more.
And we completely fail to take in the magnitude of this disaster. It is a disaster - officially, Australia's worst natural disaster in the history of European settlement. One hundred and seventy-three people are dead. Many more are missing. Almost one thousand properties are completely destroyed and it's estimated that over five thousand people are homeless and living in emergency relief centres - in schools and town halls, where they share their space with people in the same situation and where the air is filled with grief and hope and desperation.
In my safe little place, I find myself grateful for everything. Last night, after I went for a run, I was grateful for the fact that I had a shower, shampoo, soap... that I had a house in which to keep all of these things. I'm grateful for feeling cold. I'm grateful that I've been able to brush my teeth every day and wear a different set of clothes.
And I keep relating it to me, which is probably the most selfish thing of all. But I can't help it. When my home town came on the news, the reporter said something like "And the worst hit area was Steels Creek Road". Well, guess which road I used to live on? It’s a long a beautiful road, leading from the edge of town right into genuine bush – isolation and towering gums, a road with crumbling edges, where trees crowd up against you as you travel along it. I was the first stop on the bus route and I spent six years watching the trees go past on the hour-long trip to school. It’s surely blackened and ruined now.
Almost lifeless.
The Age printed a map this morning, which I scanned. It shows the areas burnt out by the fire (and the number of people killed, which is still hard to take in). There's another of those handy arrows, pointing pretty much directly at the place where you could expect to find the house in which I grew up. I hope it's just the land that's been burnt there. I hope the house is still standing and that the people who live there now are OK.
The Age has a section dedicated to the bushfires here, but here are a few articles that are significant for me: Skyline Road’s Panorama of Obliteration (Skyline Road runs parallel with the road I used to live on); Bushfire Recovery (photos of the aftermath, many from the road I lived on); I Now Understand the word “Firestorm" (quite a moving survivor’s story; a little graphic, though – be warned).
And I also have a little gallery of pictures – some taken from The Age website and some from a family friend who still lives in Yarra Glen. I want to know if my ugly old town’s OK. I want to know that people still have homes there – that they’re going to stay, no matter what. I want to know if there’s hope amidst the misery of the aftermath.
Then I have to ask, What can you do for people who’ve lost everything? I guess the answer to that is: everything. That’s pretty much what you need if you have no house, no clothes, no nothing. The Red Cross is running an appeal and are asking people to be patient when it comes to donating blood. They can only deal with so many people at once. The Salvation Army is also taking donations for the victims.
And people are finding their own ways to contribute.
As for me, I still haven’t worked out what I want to do. All I know is that I want to do something. Sure, I’ll be going through my house this weekend and donating every single thing I don’t really need. I’m going to try to get over my squeamishness and donate blood. And I’d give money, but it doesn’t seem like enough. Although money’s very helpful, obviously, I just want to give something more.
I want to do something more.
no subject
on 2009-02-10 09:01 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:08 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-10 09:24 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:10 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-10 09:44 pm (UTC)Glad you are safe. Hugs.
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on 2009-02-10 11:39 pm (UTC)Hope whoever that was runs and hides because there's an angry mob with his name on it.
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on 2009-02-11 01:10 am (UTC)Just GROWL.
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on 2009-02-11 01:44 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:11 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 02:29 pm (UTC)humanity needs poking with a stick
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on 2009-02-11 09:05 am (UTC)The map really put it into perspective for me, too - especially the way the grey burnt-out area continues all along that road. I've since found out that my old house escaped, which made me happy. It was a great house to grow up in (my Dad designed it himself) and I'm just glad the people who live in it now are safe and are about to continue enjoying it.
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on 2009-02-10 10:13 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 09:00 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-10 10:15 pm (UTC)I've been watching the damage around you on the news...and it's so depressing I can't even imagine everything that people have lost. I think it's great that you want to do something. So many people just say, "it doesn't affect me," but I think it's wonderful that you want to give as much as you can. Nothing is scarier than when it's actually happening so close to where you live.
no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:59 am (UTC)We used to have bad floods, too - not bad enough to damage houses, but bad enough to cut at least one of the roads out of town. I live with an unreasoning fear of flood plains, now. It swear, I can spot them from miles off. "Nope, that's a flood plain - I wouldn't build there..."
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on 2009-02-10 10:25 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:12 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:35 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-14 07:16 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-10 10:37 pm (UTC)I was encouraged last night by the fact that the local vinnies bin was too full. I had to make an executive decision as to which bags to leave on the ground outside it - fortunately I only took the bags I could carry. Tonight, I'll go prepared with more plastic bags to protect what I take.
I think the wanting to do more thing comes form our desire just to go and hug all the people affected. I mean we're a developed country - isn't there something that we should be able to do?
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on 2009-02-11 08:54 am (UTC)Almost every time I go past a Salvation Army store, I see people outside with cars full of goods, dragging bag after bag into the store - it's amazing. It's almost reached the point where I'm thinking they must have enough of the stuff people need; maybe it's time to start donating the stuff they don't technically need, like mp3 players or novelty ice cube trays or something.
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on 2009-02-11 10:29 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-12 08:50 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-10 11:37 pm (UTC)My general understanding of charity groups in crisis support mode is that when the crisis is on, they don't take new people on because you need the training to help and they don't have the time then, but it doesn't hurt to still raise your hand. There is a beauty in being able to bleed out the pain by using your hands to do something, even if it is small. I'm craving that right now.
Maybe offer to adopt a homeless cat for a while, until their owners are resettled. Or go to Beechworth and help with the clean up. I really enjoyed that when the last big Sydney fires nearly destroyed my cousin's house. I was really young, but even back then, doing something as simple as helping them wipe the ash off their walls was better than sitting back and listening to the horror over and over again.
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on 2009-02-11 09:09 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 09:44 am (UTC)*huggles* Sleep is good. I'm having a day of it, I've decided. Cept there's some English bird that won't stop twittering outside my window. Why didn't it just freeze in the snow?
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on 2009-02-10 11:43 pm (UTC)I'm not sure there is much else TOO do. Red Cross etc won't take extra volunteers right now as you'll need training and they don't have time.
RSPCA has an offer to assit form here http://www.rspcavic.org/Forms/BushfireSubmitHelp/Helpsubmit.asp. I suspect that they'll have animals that will need rehoming. That's something you can practically assist with.
IN the end, I think we all feel impotent and useless after something like this. How can you not? In the scale of this - there are no words.
*hugs* We'll get through it.
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on 2009-02-11 08:48 am (UTC)That's a great idea about the RSPCA. I'll look into that.
*hugs back*
The whole county is being awesome in response to this - we'll definitely get everyone through it. :)
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on 2009-02-11 10:28 am (UTC)IF you tell them you're squeemish they'll throw a towel over the catheter so you can't see the blood coming out. (They always do that for me cos I am a total woss with my own blood).
You'll be a bit light -headed afterwards. It's awesome. You get drunk easily with only one glass!
AND AND AND you get lollies and biscuits and soup and juice! And the sweet satisfaction that your donation can help as many as eight people! Hooray!
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on 2009-02-12 08:49 pm (UTC)I figure it won't be the most fun experience ever, but at least I get to choose to do it; no-one got to choose to be caught up in the bushfires or not.
Also, I may even find out what blood type I am. That might be useful to know.
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on 2009-02-11 01:41 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:15 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 01:48 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 05:15 am (UTC)Kind of took me a moment to actually catch up with my own thoughts on that one...
Katie, a man from the Red Cross came along to accept a money donation from our school today, and he gave a little speech and answered the students' questions. One thing he did say was that even though people generously donate food and clothing and blankets, the Red Cross actually prefer that people donate money instead, because then it allows the people affected to choose their own new belongings that they like, rather than taking what is handed out.
And secondly (which I had never considered before) is that if people are given money, then they can possibly go and spend it at their local store - whose owners might also be recovering from the loss of the fires. That means the local businesses and economy can sustain itself.
He also assured us that 100% of our donations would go to the people affected, and not lost in administration costs.
So I guess I'm just saying that even though monetary donations feel like a heartless, helpless offering, the people who receive it will still feel the positive effects of it, even if you're not physically there with them.
*hugs*
(sorry it's such a lengthy comment...!)
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on 2009-02-11 08:42 am (UTC)And thanks for the long comment - it was very re-assuring. It just feels like it's not enough, but I guess it really is helping.
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on 2009-02-11 10:23 am (UTC)And they get to actually go out and rebuild themselves so they heal that way too instead of having everything handed to them.
Go the Red Cross. Sensible folks them.
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on 2009-02-11 08:18 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 02:57 am (UTC)Have cookies and juice afterward. Pretend it's a treat for doing something wonderful (rather than replenishing your sugar levels). *hugs*
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on 2009-02-11 08:33 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 07:45 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:27 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-11 08:19 am (UTC)I hope people will continue to be generous with donations, in spite of difficult financial times.
(hugs)
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on 2009-02-11 08:28 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-12 04:50 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-02-12 08:46 pm (UTC)