BLACK SATURDAY – THE WOMEN TESTIFY
A poem found in Victorian women’s testimony to the Black Saturday Royal Commission.
This is my story.
I am a survivor of the 1939 and 1969 fires. I am new to Victoria. I have lived here for 37 years.
I have been a CFA volunteer for 15 years, for 7 months, for 12 years.
I was in the Information Unit. I am the aunt of my niece who burned alive in her home.
I am recently widowed. I live with my husband. I am facing this alone.
I am a fully qualified botanist. I am a Registered Nurse. I am one of nine councillors of the city council.
I am a single retiree dependent on the aged pension.
My submission is for the loss of my children who perished in fires at Kinglake 1 year and 2 months ago.
I knew that it was 47 degrees and saw a strange red dusty cloud hanging in the air.
I was listening to 774 Radio, using a CFA scanner, and checking outside every hour.
I was on my way home with my sons and a basket of washing.
I attempted to call 000, several times, without success. Smoke from the Bunyip fires and the Kilmore East fires was worsening.
I believed the house was defendable. My home was safe.
We had been preparing for months,
chopping trees, clearing rubbish, cleaning gutters,
accumulating fire equipment:
water, pumps, generator, portable radio, downpipe blocks
and fire clothes, filled baths and tanks
I was watching the golf and had turned the radio off. I was on the computer.
I was unaware of the change in wind. I had the curtains closed and the air conditioner on.
The power went off while we were doing our packing so we lost the news from the radio.
My family was watching The Sound of Music on television.
I heard the fire siren sound from Marysville. I saw strange light from the smoke and a blood red moon.
I saw a helicopter in the sky, sky red in the smoke.
Only had time to grab the kids and dog and go,
hit by smoke and burning embers coming from behind us, bits
of burnt twigs and leaves floating down from the west
and then we could hear
the roar of the fire, an express train of flames.
There was nothing we could do.
That’s where Kinglake should be. I think it’s gone.
A raging wind was battering a sulphur-crested cockatoo, ruffling its feathers as it flew east.
I cannot forget the image and sound of terrified horses screaming as they fled a wall of smoke and flames.
Death by bushfire can mean burning alive.
It is a myth that you will suffocate
through lack of oxygen in the moments preceding death.
It is a myth that you will be unconscious.
The choice to stay and protect or to leave
does not tell people that they would survive.
I almost lost my life,
due to not being able to open the garage with a remote control,
as fallen trees had cut the power supply.
I survived when twelve of my neighbours died.
We could not get around collapsed trees. It had not rained in months.
Why was there no information passed onto residents?
What happened to our situation reports and our calls for assistance?
I have a record of a draft Awareness Message with a time of 2.30pm this was not released.
Another draft for an Urgent Threat Message with a time of 3pm, this was not released.
We asked if we could release an Awareness Message at approx 13:30 hrs, which was denied
by the incident controller.
At 16:25 we were once again not able to release any messages.
We had no warning that there was a fire nearby. I still hear it roaring.
We had invested in a scanner. We heard the mayday call from the CFA screaming for help.
The emergency personnel could do nothing but watch.
I was surprised it was only 45 minutes,
the front.
Gas bottles were going off and LPG tanks like huge Bunsen burners
The fire roared and
I could not be heard.
The fire sped past breaks. We could not be evacuated.
People who wanted to evacuate had
nowhere to go, the Dederang evacuation point was not open. There was no one available to open it.
Unable to get through, phones or roads, blocked. The whole area had been made a crime scene!
Someone must know if the houses are standing or not.
Wearing a red bracelet so I could go up the mountain, I was able to join one of the Marysville Valentine’s Day buses. We were not allowed to get off the bus.
My husband was inside a double body bag. There were two plastic containers – one labelled “Dental” –
there was a bag full of bones in no particular order. Throughout the bones were many fully grown maggots.
The bones were covered in soot, ash and dirt.
A year has passed, so what has changed? We were visited by looters.
Filled in more forms. Centrelink. If you earn less than this you are eligible for a grant.
I cannot forget.
I am the aunt of my niece who burned alive in her home along with her husband and their children.
I attempted to call 000, several times, without success.
I was unaware of the change in wind.
Overhead a raging wind was battering a sulphur-crested cockatoo, ruffling its feathers as it flew east.
The fire roared and
I could not be heard.
Shirley Laskin, 2012