I don't care if smoke ruined your day

Sometimes, people disappoint me exceedingly with their selfishness. More often than I think necessary, it’s over one loud and obnoxious complaint they make. Smoke. The kind generated by preventative back-burning by volunteer firefighters around our community. It bothers me, because it so blindly ignores the implications of what would happen if these precious people were able to live the 100% smoke free lives they crave.

In the summer of 2002, we were at my grandparents place for Christmas. I was 14 and in that typical teenager stage where I was more interested in sitting inside reading than joining my family outside for lawn bowls. It ended up being the most fortuitous decision of my formative years. The phone rang, and being Christmas Day, I answered it figuring I could kill some boredom by having a chat to whatever relative was calling. It was my Uncle Michael, but he was not ringing for a chat. He had been watching the news, and was 99% sure he had just seen our house on the news, on fire.

I remember saying meekly that I’d get Dad, and running faster than I ever have up the front paddock to find him. The next 12 hours were a blur. We watched the news for a few minutes, the pictures of our suburb and surrounds burning to the ground flashed in front of us as we stood in silence. I don’t remember packing up, or saying goodbye to Grandma & Pop. I do remember Mum getting booked for speeding and asking her why she didn’t tell the police officer what was happening when he asked if there was any reason she was speeding. I thought it was a good reason to be speeding. I remember the countless phone calls Dad made, trying to get through to the fire brigade to find out what was going on. No one could say much, they were all still out saving people’s homes. What we did know was that every house at the end of the streets that backed onto the National Park had been lost. Our house was in that position, but no one could say for sure what was left. I remember Dad driving around a road block and accidentally stopping under live broken power lines. That time he told the police what was going on.

When we got there, our suburb was decimated. It was like a ghost town. Houses surrounded by blackened earth, spindly trees with no leaves or branches, trunks black and smoky. The air was red with smoke and the afternoon sunset. They say smell is the strongest sense that invokes memory. To this day, the smell of bushfire smoke brings the memory of driving through that alien landscape back. I’ve never had such fear, driving down our street, not knowing what we’d see when we turned the last bend. Our neighbours houses still stood, but nothing else did, fences were gone, sheds, gardens, trees, power poles- everything blackened, charred, and broken. Our place was the same. The house and shed still stood, but everything else was gone. Our childhood cubby house, the trampoline, the pool, carport, dog kennel, chickens and their coop, gardens… anything that was outside was gone.

We were incredibly lucky. The fire was one that flashed through the bush so quickly no one had time evacuate. The volunteer firefighters were understaffed, being Christmas Day, and were unable to keep up with size and ferocity of the burn, not that I blame them. The stories people told of fireballs rolling across the hills still haunt me. Our neighbour saved his own house, and then charged over to ours. He had fed every hose we had into the gutters, blocked the outlets and effectively created a waterfall around the house’s perimeter. He tried to set the chooks free, but they were too scared to leave and didn’t survive. He literally, saved our house. Many weren’t as lucky.

Back-burning had been done in our area routinely for years. I know because both my parents are volunteer firefighters. They spent many a weekend out doing controlled burns to reduce the risk of what happened to us, happening to others. When I hear people complain about the air being smoky and it ruining their day, it boils my blood. I would never, ever, wish what happened to my family (and we got off lightly) on anyone, even my worst enemy. I would rather spend every day of the year with smoky air, lest one person in our community lose everything they own, or their life.

I understand, that people want to enjoy their time outside, and that yesterday was a public holiday which meant more people outside than usual. Yesterday was about pausing and reflecting on those who have sacrificed for the good of our country. Complaining about smoke in the air caused by those trying to protect homes and lives, in my books, is akin to those who complain about the noise from the RAAF planes when they complete training drills, or the tax dollars we pay to the Defence Force. People are selfish, and until it affects them I doubt they will give it a second thought that it’s happening for a reason. Fire fighters don’t set controlled burns to ruin your picnic, or beach day, or whatever you feel has been made unenjoyable. They do it to keep you safe. Although I hope you never have to understand what it’s like to be truly grateful for their service, I wish you could at least empathise and think before you speak.