A Scary Night

Jesus god. We were on our way home in the ute last night about 2:00 am after celebrating Gary's birthday; being the only sober person in Meeka, I was driving. As we came around the corner towards my place I saw this huge cloud of smoke coming from Main Street - right where my house is. I can't tell you the feeling of realising the dogs were locked in the house; even as we got closer it looked like it was my place on fire. I can't remember what I said, I was absolutely panicking and sort of screaming or something.

As we came round the front of the house, we could see that it was the bush in the empty block next door that was on fire, and not the house, but we couldn't tell if it was on both sides of the fence line or what. I was so upset, but Gary was calm and just started telling me to get the garden hose & some buckets; there wasn't any point in calling the brigade out as it would take too long for them to get there to help. Close up we could see that it was just the long grass along the empty lot's front fenceline that was burning and not any trees or large bushes; I fed the garden hose over the fence and Gary got the closest section under control pretty fast and moved on to the next section while I put out embers and passed buckets of water to him (this is in a skirt and sandals by the way).

I called the police while Gary wet down the ground along the front of my place; we could tell the fire had been deliberately lit, probably by kids or some passing drunk. Darryl, the cop who took my call, said "Have you called the fire brigade?" and I said "It's me & Gary Hammer, we ARE the fire brigade." (They know we're in fire & rescue).

What really gets me is that from the aboriginal housing area behind that lot you have a clear view of the whole block; there were people up & about when we were fighting the fire, which could so easily have spread right up the hill to their places. But did any of them call the brigade or the police? Nah, just watch it burn. What in christ is wrong with these people? I sat on the front step at home and nearly cried; Gary tried to reassure me but all I could think about was what if the house had caught fire with the animals there.

Anyway, there's not a lot we can do other than to whipper-snip & poison any grass along my fence line, which Gary will do this morning. I am never leaving any of the animals in the house again. At least my tin fencing acts as a barricade on 3 sides of the property, so we will just have to do what we can to minimise the risk from the front. What I really feel like doing is going up to the aboriginal housing slum and chucking a molotov cocktail in; these are the people I deliver food and medication to each day from the hospital. My taxes pay for their housing, dole money, child protection services, employment services, government assistance, community bus and medical services. Their contribution to the community is piles of broken glass, Emu beer cans and empty cigarette cartons, smashed public housing, screaming fights, vandalism, abused children & dogs and keeping the rest of us up half the night worrying that they're going to burn our fucking homes down.

I'm not going to let it spoil my experience of Meeka, though. We have a fun weekend lined up, and I'm going to enjoy it, just as soon as I finish filling these spare wine bottles with petrol & rags.