SAMANTHA ELLEY writes about how her life was dramatically upended when flood waters inundated her home and her community…
Northern Rivers, New South Wales, Australia
We residents of the Northern Rivers are no strangers to rain or even floods. But what we encountered on the last two days of February this year, was beyond even our experience.
For the last 13 years, with my husband and two boys, we have called the village of Woodburn home. It lies on a bend of the Richmond River which meanders its way through the picturesque landscape of northern NSW to eventually lead out to sea from the town of Ballina.
Cleaning up Samantha Elley’s home in the aftermath of the floods in Woodburn. PICTURE: Sally Charters.
We knew floods were a possibility when we built our house, so we designed a two-storey home to withstand any water inundation. All our living space is upstairs and even the electrical switches on the first floor were above the highest mark of the biggest flood, which had been in 1954.
It had been raining all week, leading up to the events of 27th and 28th February. We still managed to go away on our church camp, but after we arrived home I told my husband I would start packing items downstairs to move to the second floor as the rain just wasn’t stopping.
“The next morning brought news of the true effect the floods had on our little community. Every house had been destroyed. Every business had been inundated with water. The only areas outside of its devastating grip was the school, built on the only hill in Woodburn and the top of the bridge that connects the north and south of the village over the Richmond River, which had trapped a number of residents with their cars and horses overnight.”
The nearest city to us, Lismore had been inundated that day and it wasn’t looking good for those of us downstream from the flood waters that would arrive. My fears were confirmed on the morning of 28th February when the Bureau of Meteorology was warning our area of major flooding. We moved all our possessions to the second floor believing they were out of the waters’ way.
We organised to move our cars to the house of friends who lived on higher ground. They had planned to stay as they didn’t think the water would get in their house. My girlfriend even made scones. (They would still be sitting on the table a week later, when they arrived back in their home after they had evacuated).
Friends from the nearby town of Evans Head came and collected us in their four-wheel-drive as water was cutting us off from all surrounding areas. We had packed a small amount of possessions to take with us, believing we would be back in a few days.
The next morning brought news of the true effect the floods had on our little community. Every house had been destroyed. Every business had been inundated with water. The only areas outside of its devastating grip was the school, built on the only hill in Woodburn and the top of the bridge that connects the north and south of the village over the Richmond River, which had trapped a number of residents with their cars and horses overnight.
Many residents had been taken unawares and had to burst a hole through their roofs to escape the quick-rising waters. Our friends who had stayed were rescued by boat the next morning and told us that none of our cars survived. Our next door neighbours had stayed, believing they were also going to be fine, but had to jump on a boat late Monday night.
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Then an amazing thing happened. The surrounding communities rallied. Our church put out a call for donations of clothes, food and bedding, with a pop up op shop opening for people to get supplies. An evacuation centre was set up at the school in Evans Head and the donations poured in. My husband, a chef by trade, helped in the kitchen all week as traumatised victims of the worst flood ever experienced in Australian recorded history, took stock of their circumstances.
A week after the flood, the waters had dissipated and we returned to our house to survey the damage. We entered our beautiful home to find it a muddy, sodden, stinky mess. The roof of the first floor had collapsed, mould was growing on all our furniture including the one year-old lounge suite and mud filled the bath of our newly renovated bathroom. I wondered if this place could ever be considered our cosy home anymore.
What we salvaged compared to what we threw out was minimal and it was heart-breaking to see many precious items on the ever-growing pile of rubbish that adorned our mud pit, once called our front yard. Many hands, however, made light work. Members of our church family rallied to help us throw out, sort through, clean and demolish where necessary. Our fish lived and I saved my mother’s jewellery. These were the little wins.
The biggest wins were the safety of my family, the love of our church and community and the knowledge that God never left us, even when we saw all our worldly possessions destroyed.
