The Fire That Shaped My life

The Fire that Shaped My Life

She cleared her throat and began…

“It was a disaster. Black acrid smoke filled the air for kilometres. Bright orange and red flames licked the sky and danced around the forest, taunting bushes and trees, surging in for the kill – hot and furious. They had no mercy. All that was living was now dying. Birds fled their habitat in fright, squawking as they flapped wings with such speed that it seemed to fan the fire on to more destruction. Fleet footed animals raced to escape the monster that was roasting them alive, many dropping where they were and succumbing to the relief of death.

It raged on and on. The destruction was immense with no relief in sight for the inhabitants of this once beautiful and live oasis. Winds carried the flames, creating more destruction, bright embers of sparkling light floated through the air, and the areas that stood silent and motionless, hoping not to be noticed were, and disaster ensued.

In the town soot fell from the dark sky. Not just small particles but large pieces of what seemed like paper. Late afternoon felt like night-time. The once yellow ball high in the sky, that brightened the demeanour of everyone lucky enough to be outside, was now shrouded by a dark cover; hidden completely. Eeriness hovered around. “Mum, why is it so dark?” asked a school boy, thinking of all the stories he knew about the end of the world. “I think there must be a very big fire in the forest love”, she replied, hurrying to get home and check the news.

People were scurrying home to get inside. Coughing could be heard every now and then, dry irritated coughing. “Come on Mum; quickly take your asthma puffer”. A young girl thrust the little pump into her mother’s hand as she coughed in an uncontrollable manner. “Let’s hurry Mum, you need some water and to get out of this smoke”. The daughter spoke worriedly as she pulled her Mother quickly towards the path.

All around it was getting thicker and hanging down from above like a dark grey curtain, the hazy swirls permeating the air with a strong pungent smell. Some of those rushing to get away were rubbing their eyes furiously, the stinging too much to bear.

As scurrying people rushed, the thick air was penetrated by the sound of a loud speaker. A Policeman was on the other end of it and spoke with a clear and authoritative voice. “It is advised that all of you should, if possible make your way home. There is a fire burning in the Avalon Forrest, it is very large and at this stage, difficult to get under control. The winds are extremely strong and blowing the smoke towards town. The Fire and Emergency Services are attending the fire and we will of course be keeping everyone updated on the situation. Anyone experiencing breathing difficulties is advised to go straight to your local GP or the hospital”.

Groups of people were rushing to get home, with looks of panic and fear on many of the faces, especially the elderly as they struggled to move faster than they actually could.

There wasn’t a lot of speculating or conversation going on. As the smoke got thicker, the town square got emptier. Mr. Cole from the chemist rushed over to an elderly lady having trouble getting her walker onto the foot path and offered to take her home in his car. Coughing and visibly upset she accepted his offer and he guided her towards his shop. As he reached his doorway he could hear a young boy crying and his Mother trying to placate him. “Is he ok?” asked the chemist, worried that the boy perhaps was feeling the effect of the very dense smoke. “He’s fine” answered his obviously irritated and tired mother, “He dropped his lollipop on the grass, went to quickly pick it up, but it was covered in ‘black stuff’ so now he’s crying.  We really must get home. I’ve got washing on the line and I can imagine what that looks like now”. And with that she raced off, dragging the boy behind her.

The fire burned for days. Thousands of hectares of forest and vegetation were lost to the cruel flames. Wildlife was brutally burned to death and those few that escaped the fury had nowhere to go. Their peaceful habitat ravaged by a force no one could stop.

The smell of smoke and burnt wood hung around in the air for weeks - infiltrating the nostrils of everyone who breathed. Ash sat on the top of buildings – blowing away when a breeze wafted in, only to settle somewhere else, dirty and annoying. Scorched bushes and trees surrounded the town, the damage procured from lumps of fiery debris blown from the fire and settling on anything and everything.

A lot of the homes close to the forest were lost in the fire. By the time the fire trucks could get to them with hoses, it was too late. Horses were burnt alive as they stood tethered to posts, the flames reaching great heights and intensity with the strong winds. The remains of the homes, mostly wooden cottages lay smouldering, memorabilia, photos, trophies and so much more that had been a part of families for decades, was all destroyed in such a short time.

The wood chip plant was razed to the ground and hand in hand with that the livelihood of many families in the area. The wood chip plant, along with the orchards close by, were the main source of income for struggling families at the time.

There was a sombre feeling in the town. Of course the only topic of conversation was the fire. It had not only destroyed so much of what made this area unique, but it took the lives of five of its men. Four of these men had been firefighters – unselfishly trying to save the homes of friends and family from the area. Casualties from the blaze were ferried into town by the ambulances and taken to the only hospital in the area. Many were suffering from smoke inhalation and breathing difficulties but added to this was the case of the young girl, a horse trainer. Her only thought at the time was to release the horses from their enclosures and let them run free; their only chance was to outrun the chasing flames. As she ran over to where her own horse was tethered, she had tripped and a burning tree had fallen on her pinning her to the ground. Her screams went unheard until a fire crew arrived.

What the crew saw that day writhing on the ground was a shock to them all but to those who were new to the job, it took a long time for the image to fade from the front of their minds, for it not to be there on waking every morning, and to eventually allow them to know that this wasn’t a picture that would greet them at every job, enabling them to go to work without dreading it.

Miraculously that young girl, who was airlifted to a hospital with a special burns unit, lived. If it hadn’t been for the medical expertise she wouldn’t have survived, and as it was, her life hung in the balance for a long time. The months that she spent in hospital were excruciatingly painful but with the professional care she received, and the rehabilitation, she emerged from what had been her home for nine long months, the hospital, to her family home. Her mother had always told her, while growing up that she was too ‘bloody minded’ and headstrong for her own good! But that is part of the reason that the young girl survived.

The hobby farm where she had spent her life with its fresh air and lots of open space was no longer there. The blackened stubble, with small green shoots of life beginning to pop up in it, and burnt metal from railings and farm machinery was all that was left. The animals were long gone.

Life would of course never be the same – for anyone really. The young girl and her family moved closer to the city where she continued rehabilitation for many years. There were continual hospital visits, and plastic surgery operations – so it was a necessity to leave even though at the time, a heart wrenching decision for the whole family, fourth generation country people. But we don’t always make the choices in life – they are sometimes made for us”.

As Amelia finished reading the excerpt from her book and closed it with her short stubs that were once her fingers, she looked up at the audience in front of her. The large room was silent except for the hum of the air-conditioning, much needed on this very warm afternoon. Most of the faces in front of her were very still, some deep in thought, the older generation remembering and reliving the catastrophe, nodding and chatting to the person next to them. Younger people who had heard the story, perhaps being passed down through the generations, felt it was now real and perhaps not a myth.

When the hum of the chat died down, Amelia continued, not from her book but from her heart.

“I can imagine that a lot of you sitting in front of me would realise that I am that young girl who survived that fire all those years ago. You don’t get to look the way I do just by chance – as a girl I always wanted to look different to everyone else, but honestly, not end up this different!” and with this Amelia laughed, putting the people in front of her a little bit more at ease. “I have learnt to live with my disfigurement. I have made the most of my opportunities in life – and I have had many. Unfortunately I couldn’t have children but I trained to be a teacher and overcame the challenge of being a teacher and looking the way I do. Being accepted by the children gave me the confidence I needed, knowing that I was good enough to be listened to and respected no matter what I looked like”.

When I see some of those children now, with children of their own and some even grandchildren, they still come up to me and hug me, introducing me to their little ones, who by the way, still  whisper loudly, “Why does that lady have a scary face?

After a glass of water, Amelia continued, “Of course some of you might be wondering why I would write a book about the fire now, after all these years. Well it wasn’t just me who wrote this book – the information on these pages is from people who lived through the fire. These are the people who saw what was happening that day. It’s their memories in this book. I’m only one of the victims of the fire. I knew that one day I would write about it, but not until I felt the time was right.

A special part of this book is a love story – my love story. I won’t go into detail as I of course would appreciate you all buying the book!! But what I will say is that I married the most wonderful man and spent the last forty years with him. He saw past my scars and my misshapen features and loved me unconditionally. His name was Phillip and unfortunately he passed away six weeks ago” – Amelia took a few minutes to compose herself and wipe away a tear or two which had fallen and run down her cheek, then continued, “He was a lot older than I was when we first met, but such a caring and compassionate man, and I will be forever grateful to him for helping to save my life all those years ago. By performing plastic surgery on my horrific burns injuries he actually gave me back my life. And, she added with a sense of humour, this gorgeous face! And by the way, all proceeds are getting split between the ‘Volunteer Bush Fire Brigade’ and the ‘Burns Unit’ of the Royal Albert Hospital”.

Amelia reflected on the day and thought to herself that it had gone really well. She had signed a couple of hundred books and chatted to people who were genuinely interested in the story. “I’m glad it’s over though” she reflected.

There wasn’t a need to go and look at where she lived as a girl, the place where her life took a different path – she had returned a few years ago not knowing what to expect, but left feeling sad. Beautiful trees and dense bush filled with wild flowers and birds that were part of her childhood memories, had been replaced with bricks and mortar, topiaries in big clay pots and fake grass lawn. She knew all about the need for progress but didn’t care to ever see it again. So she started on the long journey home.

Amelia was tired. She reclined back in her chair and let her mind wander. She glanced across at the floral square box on her coffee table that contained her husband’s ashes and said out loud “I feel truly grateful and blessed with the life I have lived but I miss you so much”. And she closed her eyes.