Cracks, Community & Kintsugi: Remembering the June 2021 storm
I didn’t lose my house in the June storm of 2021 like so many local families did. Bystander guilt is real.
I do have a tale that describes my experience of the night our community was irrevocably changed. It’s not easy to admit, but it was also the night I cracked a bit. Those cracks have been slowly mending with the help of the community and countless individuals, groups, services, charities and organisations.
I’d like to imagine our community is being mended using the Japanese technique of Kintsugi. Kintsugi is where broken pottery is repaired using gold lacquer making the pottery more beautiful because of (not in spite of) the imperfections. The coming months threaten to expose those scars as the seasons move through our traditionally windy months, but I am hoping the bonds of our community will hold them strong.
I’ve written this piece to acknowledge the night, the community and all those who have helped us and to encourage our community to reconnect at the many events that will be taking place.
*For those that are still struggling, I warn that this next section of the piece may be triggering. Please skip to here if this is something you wish to avoid.
The Night I Cracked
8pm: I was outside locking the chooks up while talking on the phone to a friend and neighbour when the first one fell. The unmistakeable sound of a mighty mountain ash succumbing to its friend and foe momentarily cut through the wind’s roar. Seconds later came the ground shaking BOOM as tree met earth. We fell into darkness.
“See you on the other side” I joked, farewelling my friend and wishing them good luck. I watched our house for a minute or two as the torch lights bounced around like fireflies. My adrenalin fuelled kids shrieked with excitement at the adventure ahead. We’d been in lockdown and this was the most thrilling thing to have happened in quite a while.
It was windy and we were without power. Nothing we hadn’t experienced before. How bad could it be? Then the next tree fell, and the next, and the next. Sometimes on their own, sometimes collecting their comrades like some giant game of domino stacking.
“Some poor soul will lose their house tonight”, I thought. I feared for our friends and our community. We moved the kids onto camping mats in our bedroom and ensured treasured possessions and documents were close at hand. By 4am, and eight hours of relentless anticipation, listening and waiting for what I had assumed by then was the inevitable, I cracked.
I got up, stood outside and under the eaves of the house I yelled into the darkness at the wind. It roared like a beast or a toddler having a tanty, stomping and throwing their toys around.
“If you’re going to kill us, get it over with will you”.
By dawn we ventured out to check on neighbours and friends, a dangerous affair with trees and branches still falling, but the urge to know that people were safe was too great. Climbing under, over and through trees, tangles of cabling, exploded junction boxes and splintered power poles, we checked our section of the street. Miraculously our neighbours were all accounted for and like us, had escaped serious damage.
No power, no phones, no nbn. We were completely on our own.
“No one do anything reckless or stupid”, I warned anyone in earshot. “There’ll be no help coming”.
With grandad’s trusty radio (complete with coat hanger antennae) tuned to ABC radio, we learnt that 200,000 Melbournians were without power, there was flooding and storm damage in Gippsland and parts of the Macedon Ranges. Nothing about the Dandenongs. The phone coverage had disappeared around midnight.
No one knew.
The days and weeks that followed are a mash of memories. The police tape blocking the road was repeatedly ignored and I admit to chasing a disaster tourist crawling down the road in my gumboots and overalls. Their bright yellow, low-slung Lamborghini was dragging a downed power cable along the road. They were oblivious as they videoed our street’s misfortune.
“If you’re going to video us, the least you can do is get out of your car and lend us a hand”, I shouted waving a spare pair of garden gloves at them.
The cracks had exposed an anger and frustration I rarely feel. I clearly wasn’t myself.
Thanks to Sikh Volunteers Australia and so many other businesses, charities and organisations that helped our community.
All the memories, the good, the bad, the cold and the tiring, are tied to one truth. Community. The community pulled together, held space for one another and helped friends and strangers in their time of need. Warm food, a warm fire and a friendly smile got us through. We found comfort being around people who understood what it was like and what we were going through.
It’s the same story echoed across the affected areas, and we have so many people to thank. Victoria police, the CFA and SES were fantastic. The Yarra Ranges Council also bent over backwards to provide support and to their credit, continue to do so. The Red Cross, Sikh Volunteers Australia, Anglicare, Windermere, St Michael’s Church and the Yarra Ranges Emergency Relief Service went above and beyond with their care. Extraordinary acts of kindness by locals, community groups, businesses and Melbournians touched by our struggle are too many to list but will never be forgotten. Expressing our gratitude to you all doesn’t seem enough but we will always remember the generosity and kindness you gave our community. Your selfless acts were more precious than gold.
“I'm like one of those Japanese bowls
That were made long ago
I have some cracks in me
They have been filled with gold” Peter Mayer
Kintsugi
June is now upon us, and the winds and memories come sweeping back. Autumn always brings winds, and this year is no different, but watching and listening to the trees as they dance and sway with their old friend the wind, I reflect on how far we’ve come and much further we need to go.
I heard this poem by Peter Mayer the other day and this first verse resonated with me.
“I'm like one of those Japanese bowls
That were made long ago
I have some cracks in me
They have been filled with gold” Peter Mayer
The cracks created by the storm remain but are slowly being repaired and I would like to imagine using this Japanese technique Peter describes (Kintsugi). For some, the cracks have now been filled but will take some time to dry. For others, especially those whose homes and lives were shattered that night, those cracks remain raw and exposed as they continue the struggle to repair and rebuild.
We are a stoic bunch here in the hills, independent, resourceful, and doggedly determined. We are trying to move on from that night and because of the kindness, support and generosity we have received, our scars are indeed filled with gold. You can see it in the glint in the eyes of locals. Without a word spoken, that golden glint tells you that they understand where you’ve come from and what you’ve been through. They get it.
There are many small gatherings taking place over the coming weeks, to thank, to reconnect and strengthen the community spirit that was awoken during that time. I hope to see as many locals at these events as possible, wearing their kintsugi with pride. I hope to meet new residents there too, enabling those golden scars to unite us as one.
* If this story has stirred up difficult emotions and memories, please seek support. I have provided some contacts below.
Beyond Blue: 1300 22 4636
Lifeline: 13 11 14
Kids Helpline: 1800 55 1800