Power of the human spirit rises to take on Mother Nature’s deadly floods

The heartbreak is just a window away. Any window in Queensland’s south-east is framing a story we’ve all seen before. Houses inundated. Families broken. Children separated from schools. Roads cut in half. Suburbs became islands as roads which had never flooded became rivers. Creeks became angry, spewing mud into businesses and homes. 

But Brisbane’s big brown river that snakes through the city before emptying into Moreton Bay is the real villain again. It’s swallowed houseboats and cranes and ferry terminals, piers and pontoons, and is using them as weapons as it races downstream.

We didn’t see this coming, just as we didn’t see the murderous 2011 flood. Questions were asked then, and they’ll be asked again when the sun stays out and clothes begin to dry.

Why do we continue to build on floodplains? Do we have the right touch when it comes to letting water out of big storage dams? What can we learn so that we don’t keep recycling the same heartbreak every 10 years?

This time, for many, the loss is harder to cop. It comes after two years of COVID, where businesses and dreams were broken. Now many of those same people are losing their homes. Our children, whether they are six or 16, are living a COVID legacy that has stolen too much. Today many of them with gumboots to the knees are trying to retrieve school books and photographs of happier times.

Generosity to the fore

But in all this murky mess, there has been a delicious show of individual generosity that I haven’t witnessed before. Yes, in 2011 — when 36 people lost their lives — armies of volunteers made sandwiches and swept neighbours’ lounge rooms. But this time the kindness has spun out of social media. Late at night, those with a spare room have put their personal address on community groups and invited anyone struggling to simply turn up, at whatever time, for a hot cuppa and a bed for the night. No RSVP. No fanfare. The key will just be under the welcome mat.

Early in the morning, community Facebook groups have come alive with young tradies with their day’s work cancelled: “Hey, if anyone needs help cleaning up … or needs errands run, please reach out to me…’’

The offers are small but are fanning out across the city and state.

“Have a small group of mates; all with cars that may be able to help out,’’ one young man says. A mother needs medication delivered to the other side of town, and the rush of offers to collect the medicine, or buy it and deliver it, runs to dozens within minutes.

Those with dry offices, including politicians, opened them up for hot showers, to charge phones, collect dump vouchers and brewed coffee. Others who can drive safely on dry roads travel for two hours to strangers’ properties they see on the nightly news: “Thought you could do with a hand.’’

And by God, it’s welcome.

In another episode, a group of young workers rescued a man trapped by debris after his houseboat went down. They formed a human chain, linking arms. Strangers working together with a determination to save a stranger. And they pulled him to safety, just before other loose pontoons came hurtling down the river.

Even our leaders are showing a kindness missing from their everyday dialogue. Premier Annastacia Palaszczuk and Prime Minister Scott Morrison hunched over the same map, learning what challenge will come next and how best to solve it.

Yes, wars help incumbent prime ministers and floods can make a premier. But what we’ve seen this week is everyone pitching in — not for the rewards on offer, but because it’s the right thing to do.

It’s been a devastating lesson in the power of Mother Nature. And a fabulous lesson in the power of the human spirit.