Tropical Cyclone Lua

Coming from the island state, I'm not familiar with weathering tropical cyclones. We just don't have them. Yes, we have cold winters, frost in the mornings, but at least we don't have to put up with this shit. Having just been through a Red Alert with TC Lua, I thought I might describe the experience.

First thing: the Bureau of Meteorology have their website, listing weather reports, warnings etc. They've probably had this for years. I've just discovered it. People here affectionately call it 'The BOM'. As in "What does the BOM say? Shall I check out the BOM?", like they're old friends. Anyhoo, I'm now also familiar. It's bookmarked on my laptop. So whenever there is the inkling of bad weather about, people go straight to the BOM and see what warnings are currently issued. When we had two days of solid rain last week, people were logging on left, right and centre, tracking the initial low on their splendid little cyclone map, and then watching intently as it formed into a Category 1 off the East Pilbara coast.

There are three stages of alert. Blue Alert, is stage 1. This means you are supposed to determine where you will be sheltering. Obviously if you are in a caravan (as plenty of people are here in Port Hedland) you will be looking for alternate accommodation. You are also meant to be getting your cyclone kit ready: a torch, radio, non-perishable foods, water, candles and matches etc. During this time, the hospital was calling for volunteers to work the cyclone. Rob and I put our hands up being the mercenaries that we are. The potential overtime was too good to ignore.

Once the cyclones is formed, the BOM begins plotting its trajectory on this little map, and estimating its future movement and category and then they decide which communities need to progress to Stage 2 of Yellow Alert. Apparently, what turns a low into a cyclone is the addition of warm water, especially around the 30 degrees Celcius mark. I still don't really know why this happens, but apparently thats the deal. That warm water gets sucked up into the cyclone, and intensifies its movement and speed.

At this point, the preparation begins. Sail clothes come down, wheelie bins are cabled tied to posts, any loose objects are stored inside, deck chairs are chucked in swimming pools. People move to their place of shelter and prepare to bunker down and batten the hatches. Planes were grounded and hangared, the mines shut down, the ships were sent well off the coast, the pubs and shops closed. This is the point that Rob and I were called to come to work.

Stage 3, Red Alert was called around three hours after we arrived. At this point, no-one is permitted to drive. The ambulance service stops the minute the weather escalates, the only people permitted on the road are police (who are meant to be fining delinquent drivers) and SES workers who help in extenuating circumstances. The hospital goes into lockdown. No-one is meant to come or go. (People still do however!) And then those staff have to remain at work until the All Clear is called. So we sleep in shifts wherever we can find a bed, we eat the crap food that the hospital provides, observe the weather, listen the wind, admonish the people who ignore the Red Alert and come to the hospital anyway for minor complaints, and care for the ones who present for legitimate ones. And actually we had several emergencies during the cyclone.

And 25.75 hours later, we were released. Port Hedland was not damaged at all. Luckily we were on the edge of cyclone, and about 100km from the centre. So the weather here was not much more than a hammering of rain, and some stiff winds. But the thing is that cyclone trajectories are unpredictable. They can change direction at any moment, particularly as they gather speed and intensity as they move towards the coast. By the time Lua hit the community of Pardoo, it was a Category 4 (and it only goes to Category 5). The roadhouse there was severely damaged, there was flood damage and roofs were lifted. Scary stuff.

And that brings me to my original point. Why would anyone want to put up with that every cyclone season? It makes me glad I don't have to. I don't think I could bunker down several times a year, never knowing if your house and your loved ones were going to come out unscathed each time. I know that people here get used to it, they prepare well for it and that people live in different places for different reasons, but I do know that its just not me. I'm thankful for my island home, despite its frosty mornings!

The Shizz I Want in Twenty Twelve

Yes, there's a list. And here it is my brothers:

1. Buy a piece of artwork that will fit in that currently empty spot above my dining table.
2. Get to at least an intermediate level in French conversation.
3. Install a splashback in my kitchen, so I don't have repaint that fricken space behind my cooktop again.
4. Mend all those items of clothing that have minor faults; a button missing here, a broken zipper there. And then wear them.
5. Read 30 novels.
6. Learn to love, tolerate pretend to tolerate exercise.
7. Draw, create, make more.
8. Get an engagement ring made, so that people actually believe it when I say I'm engaged.
9. Reduce my bread and potato intake (but I love them so much!!!!!!)
10. Spend less and invest more.

This damn French 'R'

Why the French language needs to complicate things by including a 'R' sound that is near impossible to pronounce, I'll never know. Words that begin with the letter 'R' are not too bad, I can roll off 'ravi' and 'remplir'. But words that fit in an R throughout the word like 'prendre' I struggle with. And don't even get me started on words like the one for locksmith 'serrurier' - it's just not going to happen. God forbid I ever lock myself out in a French speaking country.

The linguistic guru Steve Kauffman assures us that this, like any new sound will eventually come naturally. So I imagine that one day I'll be wandering around the house chatting on the phone to all my French speaking friends and 'Voila!', out of my mouth will emerge the perfect rolling, phlegm-rattling 'R' sound. Doves will fly from the trees, unicorns will prance in elation, and all the French speaking people of the world will dab tears from their overcome eyes, at its perfection.

In an effort to bring this about avec la vitesse, and claim my fluency tiara, I have arranged to have a lesson via Skype with Erika from France in return for 30 minutes of English conversation practice. I'm sure her language skills will be far superior to mine, but I have decided to not worry about the grammar, or the tenses. Instead, I will just try to communicate, enjoy the experience of chatting with a native speaker and hopefully make a new friend.

Souhaite-moi bonne chance!

The Ever Salubrious Pilbara

Tomorrow I turn 33: a highly suitable age, I think. I absolutely refuse to work on my birthday - it just seems wrong. So back in December, I creatively wrangled the roster and scored both Rob and me a few days off together to celebrate. We've decided to drive to Point Samson tomorrow, a little seaside village here in the Pilbara, and plan to stay overnight in a little family run B&B overlooking the sparkling Indian Ocean assuming we can get a room. Word is that there is also good fish and chips there - something that is lacking in Port Hedland! Now that's worth driving 218 kilometres for!

I plan on taking my sketchbook and my watercolours, and spending the day sipping on G&T's and painting. See you on the other side lovelies xxx

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The Proposal

So here we were, me just barely awake having finished night shift this morning,

him lazing around on the bed, already typing on his laptop.

ME: (Yawning, stretching, just waking up.)

HIM: "Morning".

ME: " Morning."

HIM: "What shall we do today?"

ME: "We need to go to Kmart to buy a new mop, this one is shite."

HIM: "Agreed. Shall we go in about an hour?"

ME: "Sounds good."

(Rob returns to typing on laptop)

ME: (Drowsily, rolling over to give him a cuddle)... "Mmm I love you. I want you to be my husby."

HIM: (Pause)... "OK!"

ME: "Sorry what?"

HIM: "Yes I'll be your husband!"

ME: "Um.. OK... sweet. Does this mean we are engaged then?"

HIM: "Yeah I guess so!"

ME: "Excellent!"

HIM: "Damn it, I had a grand master plan for this!"

HIM: (Then jumps up and gets down on one knee) "Eve Louise Walters, will you be my wifey?"

ME: "This was your grand master plan???"

CONCLUSION: Engaged.

RING: Not yet. To be continued.

MOP: Still shite.

Holidays come, holidays go

Oh sigh... How quickly they came to an end. We've just had four weeks off work, soaking up the summer sun at our little house in the valley, visiting friends and family, domesticating it up in the kitchen, sipping on sneaky G&T's in our garden. Happy times.

Actually it was quite a busy little holiday, after flying out of the Pilbara on the 19th of December, we popped into Perth for a couple of days, catching up with my sister, cooked and early Christmas roast and sang carols while slightly tipsy. Then we headed to the island, where we did it all again for real. We loved spending time together in our kitchen, poring over cookbooks, trying out new recipes and experimenting with new ingredients. Our new favourite? Gravlax (cured salmon with salt, dill and ground pepper), thanks to Lotta Jansdotter's recipe in her latest book Handmade Living. Its quite amazing really, so simple to make and ten times better than smoked salmon. We had it on crackers along with some local cheeses and prosciutto on Christmas Day. Deluxe.

We repainted our kitchen and bathroom, organised an architect to come and draw up plans for our new conservatory and studio (ooh exciting!) and bought fencing materials and garden mulch. Rob walked aimlessly around our cottage, daydreaming about the new secret garden that we will put in here, and the French doors that will go in there. It was lovely to bond over our shared living. We lounged around on our new couch... a thing of chocolatey leather beauty, had nanna naps and caught up on missed TV.

We saw Rob's sister marry her beloved in January. We witnessed her tears of happiness as he sang her a song at the reception that he had spent month taking lessons for, and shared in their elation when they were officially announced as husband and wife.

And finally I snuck off to Melbourne for a few days of catching up with friends there and of course, shopping. Being remote for the last year has meant that although I've saved a fair bit of money, I've not acquired any new fabulous things. So to remedy this oversight, I shopped, and shopped and shopped. Lovely new threads of silk and cashmere and merino have since taken up residence in my wardrobe, where of course they will stay, because such things are not practical in the bush. But I take pleasure knowing that they are there, just waiting until I return again.

So tonight I am back to work in Port Hedland ED, knowing that those wispy snippets of holiday love will soon be a memory. This contract is for 13 weeks, a blink in the eyes of Time but at this point it feels like an eternity! I am sure however that it will zip past once I am back into it and before we know it we will be flying home to the island. We have autumn camping to look forward to as well as a holiday in Thailand (made tax deductible by including a cheeky little conference into the itinerary!)

Happy New Year to you all and may 2012 be everything you wished for.

The Pros and Cons of Working Agency

It's always at this point in the contract, the last few weeks, when the countdown to holidays is on, that I start thinking about home. I think about my favourite pineapple and coconut smoothie that I get from my local juice shop, hanging out in my craft room, having a decent coffee at Fresh, walking through the Gorge, Christmas, seeing friends and family... all those things that I associate with being at home. I think that this is compounded by working in remote and rural places, having limited access to services and a car. But it is also a time when I start to reevaluate my choice of being an agency nurse and wonder for how much longer I will do it. When I think about this last year, of working for a nursing agency and surrendering to this gypsy lifestyle, there have been good aspects and not so good ones. I made a list of these when we were considering back in July whether or not to extend our leave for another 12 months or not.

PROS OF WORKING AGENCY

• Not having to get involved in any local work politics. Its really good to swan in, create a little bit of havoc, work for a couple of months and swan out.
• The opportunity to see more and more of this amazing country and spend time in places that I would not otherwise ever go.
• The making of new friends in every state.
• The money. It is far more lucrative working casually, and with not much to spend our money on while we are on contract, our mortgages are getting smashed! It's such a relief to be debt free other than our mortgages and be actually getting ahead.
• More holidays and the flexibility to take them. We've had 12 weeks off this last year.
• All those frequent flyer points.
• The professional challenges. We have learnt skills that we would never develop working at home.
• Getting to see first hand what indigenous communities are like and forming my own opinions rather than relying on media to do it for me.
• The security of having work when our colleagues at home are currently fighting a battle with the state government who are closing beds, shutting down services and cancelling nurses contracts due to budget cuts. We are thinking of you all and are there in spirit!

CONS OF WORKING AGENCY

• Living out of a suitcase in usually crappy accommodation. I really really really miss having my house and my stuff around!
• Missing friends and families life changing events at home, such as weddings. I have missed three weddings this year. Although we have increased flexibility on taking holidays and can sometimes swing it, the cost of taking a flight out of these small communities for a weekend is often more than you would pay for a return ticket to Europe (I kid you not. For example, the one-way 1.5 hour flight from Cairns to Kowanyama that we took in February cost Queensland Health $1099 for each of us! We saw the invoice!)
• The risk of leaving our house unattended. Luckily we have dear family and friends who keep an eye out, do random security patrols, collect our mail and mow the lawns. Thank you so much, we couldn't do it without you all.
• The deskilling of some of our emergency skills. Whilst we have gained a lot of new skills, we have lost others, simply because we aren't doing it every day.

Its kind of an even list, but I still think the pros outweigh the cons. As mentioned, the Tasmanian government is in the process of killing our hospitals and health services and I am not sure if us nurses will win this war or not. So for now we will continue doing what we are doing. It may be that we keep doing this for longer than originally planned but we will see. 2012 is shaping up to be another interesting year.

To all of you who have read my blog this year, have a safe and merry Christmas and I wish you all the best for the New Year.

Relaxing in Broome

The Sun Cinema

Sipping on iced coffees watching the world go by

The stunning Cable Beach (photo by Rob)

Recently we had a chance to escape out of Port Hedland and zoom six hours up the road to Broome. I'd never been there before, although Rob lived there for a year or so somewhere in his twenties. The beaches are beautiful, but unfortunately plagued by sea lice (yes we got stung) and stingers at certain times of the year. Its such a shame that there are all these amazing beaches here in Australia which cannot be utilised due to stingers, crocodiles and other nasties. Although, some might say that we are invading natures space rather than the other way around!

But aside from the sea lice incident, we had a lovely time eating out, relaxing by the pool, and watching Red Dog at the Sun Cinema, the world's oldest picture garden! It was great seeing Red Dog up here. We are working in the Pilbara, exactly where the movie is set, so it seemed all the more relevant! And the setting was wonderful. Outdoor cinema, old style deck chairs, freshly made popcorn. Perfect. I would recommend a visit if you are ever in Broome.

Unfortunately our time there was too short, we travelled 6 hours each way just to spend 36 hours in Broome, but it was a nice change from the red dust and mining rigs of Port Hedland. Our contract finishes here on December 18th and we plan to be home in Tasmania around the 21st. See you all then for some Christmas cheer!

The Challenges Facing Indigenous Communities

The many abandoned cars in Lajamanu (bought with mining money).

Since we started working in rural and remote communities, I've been asked many times about the challenges of working in indigenous health. Whether what they see on television and in the media is true, how I cope with living so remotely etcetera etcetera. Often, the media portrays the vast majority of Aboriginal population as uneducated alcoholics who are prone to domestic violence and are beyond help. The Howard government's intervention was aimed at 'closing the gap' between indigenous and non-indigenous Australians life expectancy and its method was to throw money and resources at it, something that some (usually white) Australians feel is grossly unfair.

When I went remote, I wasn't sure what to expect, nor what my feelings on it would be. Now that I've been doing this for over a year, I've drawn some of my own conclusions, based on my own observations. I've worked in both small towns and very remote and very traditional Aboriginal communities and while the figures vary from community to community there have been some common themes running through both settings.

Firstly, the stereotype of the alcohol and domestic abuse in Aboriginal communities runs rife in many people's minds. Certainly, the media perpetuates this with its reports. And yes, stereotypes exist for a reason. Alcohol and domestic abuse do exist. They also have a concept of 'payback', which allows violent retaliation against a member of the population if they have wronged another. In days past, this was a form of justice. It was approved through a court-like proceeding by a community elder and once performed, was considered finished. For example, the punishment for murder was a spear in the thigh. It was performed by the elder, with family members for both parties present and then it was over. The problem now, is that payback is often used as an excuse for drunken violence and results in an escalation of violence, rather than cultural justice.

However, its important to remember that alcohol and domestic abuse also exist in the Caucasian population. When I work at home, a mostly white population, I see drunk people who have been in fights or assaulted their partners every night of the week. To say that this is an Aboriginal issue alone is just inaccurate and defamatory.

Secondly, the housing issue. This part is mostly true. There is an overcrowding issue in remote communities. As many as twenty people might be living in one house. On my visits to houses in Lajamanu, I would typically see maybe 3-5 filthy mattresses on the floor in one room. There would be unwashed linen, camp dogs, litter everywhere and the houses would be full of dog and human faeces, vermin etc. They were revolting. Completely third world. And subsequently a breeding ground for disease.

When I looked at Aboriginal men and women of around my age (32), I found that many of them had multiple children, some being cared for by the state, were battling problems with alcohol and/or abuse, were dependent on welfare and plenty were illiterate. Now this can also be found in low socio-economic areas in Caucasian populations, but in very remote communities I worked it was sadly the norm. Health issues such as STD's, diabetes and diabetes related complications, obesity, renal failure and chronic skin, dental and eye issues were the primary complaints.

Their parents and grandparents on the other hand, were predominantly better educated, perhaps as a result of the stolen generation, which I realise is controversial. Whatever we think about the stolen generation, and the atrocities that occurred because of it, most of the community members I spoke to who had been affected by it conceded that they appreciated the education and skills they had acquired, despite the method being less than appropriate. Nearly all Aboriginal community members I looked after above the age of sixty were literate, had skills such as midwifery, carpentry, mechanics, cooking and hunting. They were tough old sticks. Their knowledge however, for whatever reason has mostly been lost on their sons and daughters.

So how can we fix it? There is no easy answer, and I don't expect to see it in my lifetime. The solution will take generations. Education, rather than simply money is the key I think. Aboriginal communities don't need money per se. Many of them are extremely wealthy. Millions of dollars is paid to communities every year by mining companies in the form of royalties. But what doesn't happen is wise spending of it (much like most governments!). Instead it gets divvied up amongst the individual families, who spend it on new cars, food, alcohol and mobile phones rather than pooling their money and spending it on infrastructure. And there is no concept of care for possessions or ownership. If the car breaks down, or gets a flat tyre, often they are just abandoned where they are, rather than fixed. It doesn't matter, they will just buy a new one next time royalties are paid. And if another person asks for it, it will simply be given away.

What needs to happen, I think, is two fold. Firstly, we need to focus on getting all children into school. Truancy is a huge problem. The Lajamanu rate of kids going to school regularly was only around 40-50%, other communities maybe up to 70%. Children need to be literate and they need to learn the basics of managing money and their households, respecting one another, the importance of disease prevention, gain skills that will help their communities and their job prospects. And there needs to be repercussions for the parents if their children are not attending.

Welfare across all of Australia needs to be weaned (and not just in Aboriginal communities), and if it is given, needs to be in the form of a BasicsCard. (BasicsCard, by the way is a card that Centrelink pays a proportion of the payment into and can only be used for utilities such as power and water payments, as well as food and clothing at certain shops and education and health costs. Unfortunately it is a bit of racist deal, it only applies to the Aboriginal population. I think everyone receiving welfare should have to have it. By singling out indigenous welfare recipients, it just further divides us.)

Secondly, change has to happen from within. Those educated children then need to mentor others in their community, and their own children in time. Too much happens from the white population. The majority of people running these communities are white. Thereby their culture becomes more lost every year. Its rare to see indigenous working professionals which is sad. Here in Port Hedland however, I have just met my first Aboriginal doctor, which is wonderful. She tells me that she feels a sense of responsibility to encourage other young indigenous Australians to achieve and strive for change. People like her need to celebrated. But ultimately, people will only change if they want to. We can throw money and our opinions at them, but unless the community and the individuals within it, want a better life and realise the incentives for change, they never will.

Eventually, we need to give control and responsibility back to the community and appropriate elders in it. The populations need to take responsibility for their own actions and prosperity, care for one another and provide support to those who need it in a culturally sensitive manner. Some communities I've been in, have already started. But Australia has a long road ahead of it to close the gap. But it won't happen without full support and commitment from both sides.

Clickety click click click

Photo of Port Hedland hermit crabs copyrighted to Maizy Daizy, 2011. Thank you!

Walking home from the supermarket tonight at dusk, we came across what I initially thought was a leaf blowing in the wind. On closer examination, I discovered it was a hermit crab clicking its way across the footpath down towards the sandy beach. Not wanting to step on it, Rob picked the poor thing up and placed it gently on the dunes and we continued on our way. But not even ten metres later, we came across another, and then another. Dozens of the crabs, just the one in Maizy Daizy's photo above, were making their way towards the beach from what appeared to be otherwise residential houses... The clicking of their claws on the cement sounding like a minuscule percussive orchestra.

We have been in Port Hedland for over a month now, and we have walked that same route to the supermarket numerous times to date, but we have never seen this before. What brings them out today? Is it a part of their mating season behaviour, just like the crabs on Christmas Island? The full moon? And where were they coming from? Who knows? But whatever it was, it made our walk much more interesting!