LOOKING FOR HOPE

As I look at the dry and dusty paddocks, I can see water. I know it is a trick of my eyes. As the radiant heat of the earth weaves it way skyward, I see in the distance a mirage. Water for my thirsty land. Water for my thirsty cattle. Water for my livelihood. We are crying out for water. I wish and pray for rain but the ever present sun is as fierce as ever, as it arches across a hardened glass blue sky with not a cloud to be seen. I find the drought a cruel master who rules my life for years on end. Five long years of drought we have had and it affects not only me but my family, friends and community. But I never give up hope that the drought will break sooner rather than later.

Deep cracks are opening on my soils particularly around the waterhole. Not a blade of grass to be seen either. Shrubs and small trees have been stripped of leaves by my hungry cattle. See that dead tree by the waterhole it just gave up the ghost, could not survive the drought. Its skeleton reminds me every day that death and drought go hand in hand in this sunburnt country. The waterhole has dried and with no feed left, I can no longer keep my cattle. I will have to sell them and just keep a few calves. Hopefully, those calves will keep the strain of the herd going when times improve. I can just manage to buy hay, fodder and water for them but it will put me further into debt. I can only plan one day ahead.

At times an overwhelming sadness engulfs me – like the time a few weeks ago I had to put down a few of my sick cattle. They are so accepting of their fate. When I see cattle lying down, helpless to move, their ears pulled back, their sunken lifeless brown eyes staring aimlessly, their heads barely held off the ground and their bones poking through a dirty dull coat, it’s a heart breaker for me, for sure. When I pulled the trigger, I then knew it was time to sell.

The average annual rainfall for the farm is 420 mm, about 14 inches, but this figure does not tell a true picture of weather conditions on the farm. You see, sometimes we get deluges which can double the figure for the year or we can get the dry spells that can halve it. You have to be courageous to be a farmer is this arid environment and tough out the bad years with its mounting debts in the hope that one good season will pull you through. Mind you, many of my friends have buckled under this time. In this district there are very few farmers left which in turn decimates the township. Townsfolk without jobs leave the area. You can’t blame them. Life is not the same which makes everyone unhappy but I will struggle on.

Yes, I will struggle on. Life is like that. I’ll never give up hope. Every day, I listen to the weather report hoping it will be favourable. Every day I look to the sky scanning and hoping for some tell tale sign that it will rain. Every day I am a farmer looking and hoping. Yes, I’m looking for some sign of hope.

AND THEN THE PHONE RANG

I was walking down this road. I always like to walk around the neighbourhood in the warm sunshine, breathe the fresh air and experience the peace and quiet. There was nothing unusual except for a strange quietness. The everyday noises of my usual walk were missing. No rustle of the leaves in the trees from gentle breezes. No birds were singing. Houses and gardens were all quiet. No dogs were barking at me as I passed by. No cars, buses or trucks either to be watchful of. I thought that this was all a bit odd at the time but I kept walking. However, after a while I had this feeling that I was being watched. I looked around me and could not see anything to alarm me. When suddenly, the sky was splashed with beautiful bands of rotating colours and I couldn’t take my eyes away from a magical fairyland where rainbows always light up the sky.

Besides the entrancing colours, I could hear a faint hiss and, as I tried to identify its position in the sky, I saw a giant mushroom moving at the speed of light towards me and landing with a plop, just metres away. Was it a UFO? Could it be a space craft, this giant mushroom whose top surface was coated in beige satin while the under surface, the gills, was draped in the softest, delicate pink, lace? On one side of the sturdy satiny stem, a scalloped oval door decorated with colourful buttons, bows and ribbons opened and who should bounce out of the UFO but six white mice.

These space men came towards me skipping and dancing but I had no fear of them, even though they were about the same size as me. In a tiny high pitched squeak they called me into the mushroom. As I entered the mushroom’s colourful control centre, I saw buttons and levers painted in every shade of the rainbow. I was so thrilled and excited that I quite forgot my manners and pressed a yellow and blue button and before I knew what had happened, whoosh, we were launched into space.

I sat myself down near the lace gills to view the receding earth in all its beauty. Earth looked so tiny, like a blue ball begging to be bounced. But as we moved further away from earth, my attention was taken by the moon bathed in a white silvery light. We stopped there for provisions. Yes, you can guess, cheese. The moon’s surface looked so tempting that I couldn’t help scooping up a little of the cheese. Its taste was delicious like a Blue Veined Brie, which is a favourite of mine. I wanted to stay longer nibbling but those six white mice danced me back into the mushroom as quick as lightning for more adventure.

It was so exciting circling around the smaller planets closer to the sun. They looked a lot like biscuits and I wondered why we did not land but the mice told me that the surface would be too hot to land today but we would come back when the biscuits had cooled. We flew back passed earth and onto Mars. As we approached Mars, the colour red dominated the landscape. Mountains, plains, seas and rivers were all differentiated by various shades of red. What an amazing sight. We landed near a river of red wine and, of course, I was hoping to taste a Shiraz or a Pinot Noir. But just as I was about to scoop up a mouthful, the phone rang. It was my wake up call. Oh dear!