This article first appeared in Onya Magazine, January 2011
It’s raining in Melbourne. Again. I’m complaining because my hair got wet, but while I sit in my apartment writing this piece, it’s hard not to feel insolent and selfish. While I might bemoan the fact that I straightened my locks this morning and now I have – god forbid – frizz, the people of Queensland are not thinking about how their hair looks. Or even if it’s clean.
I have no doubt you have seen the stories; on the news or in the papers. That you’ve heard the radio crosses or seen online the plight of our Sunshine State, currently under metres of water and showing no signs of letting up anytime soon.
Families are living out of community centres, being evacuated from their homes, being forced to abandon their lives for the fear of water – a resource we in Melbourne have in short supply. They must leave their possessions behind, their jobs and treasured memories, to seek shelter on higher ground with family or friends outside of the flood affected zone, or flee to another state altogether.
While I complain about the rain, it was only two short years ago that Victoria faced its own natural disaster. Bushfires that killed hundreds; wiping out towns and destroying homes and lives.
Our weather might be what brings in the tourists – the recent Oprah tour is evidence of this – but for those of us who live by the ‘beautiful one day, perfect the next’ philosophy, it’s sometimes hard to accept what we’ve got.
We complain when it rains. We complain when it’s hot. We complain when it’s windy. A very famous poem reads ‘of drought and flooding rains’, and it seems Australia lives up to this every day. But for those of us not directly affected by these tragedies, surely we need to be a little bit more accepting of our, for the most part, pretty awesome country.
I can’t fathom being in the situation taking place in Queensland at the moment. I can’t imagine the pain caused by something you have no control over, the thought of losing everything you have worked your whole life for. Similarly, I know people who were involved with the bushfires – friends, family and volunteers – and even hearing their stories, I still cannot believe that the tragedy took place just an hour down the road.
‘Her beauty and her terror’ is an apt description of our nation. Our weather patterns over the past years have been erratic, yes, but I still believe we live in the lucky country. Flooding rains and devastating fires might be something we have little or no control over, but we do come together in the most extraordinary way when they occur.
This week’s telethon for the Queensland flood victims raised over $10 million dollars in little over 2 hours while two years ago, the bushfires spurned a similar outpouring of support. You can’t say we don’t help a mate in need.
And while at the moment the tears in Queenslanders outweigh the smiles, you can feel their passion for the country and the land when they are being interviewed and you know they will be back. The same was said for the bushfire victims. ‘We will rebuild’ is the mantra of a community. Of many communities.
So what can I do, sitting in my apartment, dry and with perfectly straight locks?
Donate at any branch of the Commonwealth Bank, NAB, Westpac, ANZ, Bank of Queensland, Suncorp or Coles supermarkets or donate via website: www.qld.gov.au/floods
Help unite Australia in support of our north east neighbours and show how much you love our sunburnt country.
It’s definitely the wide brown land for me.
UPDATED: Onya Magazine will be hosting a fundraiser to support the QLD flood efforts on Australia Day – Wednesday January 26 2011 from noon til 4pm at Honey Bar, cnr Clarendon and Park Streets, South Melbourne. Come along and have a drink with your Aussie mates and help raise a dollar or two for our Northern neighbours in need. Honey will be donating all profits and there will be entertainment, auctions, prizes and more. Check www.onyamagazine.com and www.facebook.com/OnyaMagazine for updates!
I stayed away from the Boxing Day sales. I figured I’d had my fun before Christmas and it wasn’t like I needed anything. Not really anyways. But working between Christmas and New Year is a dangerous time for a shopaholic alone in the city and I was alone the day I wandered past David Lawrence and noticed the big red signs in the window.
