REAL LIFE
Nicki Blackwell and Tash Johnston are delivering food, hay
and real hope to our farmers doing it toughwritesAMELIA SAW
C
lutching an armful of
cucumbers as a gift,
Gabrielle Davis arrives
at Drought Angels
headquarters in Chinchilla ,
Queensland.
“I just came to say thank you,”
she says when she sees Tash
Johnston and Nicki Blackwell ,
the “angels” who organised a
drop of groceries, animal feed
and hay for her drought-stricken
Queensland farm.
But before the words have left
her lips, tears begin to fl ow.
“What they’ve done means
everything,” explains Gabrielle,
39, who lives on a remote cattle
property 150km south-east of
Charleville , with her husband
Michael, 50, and their children
Samantha, 12, Alexander, six,
and four-year-old Oliver. Her
stepson Justin, 20, is working
on a station in the NT.
The Davises are just one of
many drought-affected families
Tash, 42, and Nicki, 39, have
helped. About every six weeks
the women organise a support
day in a rural Queensland town,
where they’ll distribute animal
feed, hay, fresh fruit and veg and
bank cards loaded up with
credit, so families can shop
locally. They also post care
packages to farmers.‘WE BRING J
Th e women don’t draw a wage
from their work and rely totally
on donations, but when they see
the gratitude on farmers’ faces
it makes it all worthwhile.
“We had one of the farmers, a
grown man, come up with tears
in his eyes. He kept shaking his
head and saying, ‘I can’t believe
it.’ He was so shocked that we
wanted to help,” says Tash.
“We’ve met families living on
Weet-Bix and rice, rationing
their food – families who can’t
aff ord fruit and veg for their
kids. But this is Australia! No
one expects to struggle to have
enough food to survive.”Saving farms, and lives
“A lot of people have said to us
they wouldn’t be on their farms
anymore if it wasn’t for us girls.”
By the end of 2015, 86 per
cent of Queensland was drought
declared. While there has been
some rain since, it does little to
rectify the issues caused by three
years of below-average rainfall
in large parts of the state.
“The drought isn’t over. We
had rain a month ago and since
then extreme heat – so we’re
back to zero,” says Gabrielle.
“The stress is extreme. The
financial pressures are insane.
I can’t ring my friends to explainhow hard it is because the dam
dried up – they’ve got the same
problems. Being able to speak to
Nicki and Tash is a load off .”Silent stats
“Suicide in the bush still isn’t
talked about,” says Nicki, who
knew she had to act when she
heard about a farmer who shot
his 400 emaciated cattle before
turning the gun on himself.
Studies by the Australian
Institute for Suicide Research
and Prevention show that the
suicide rate among agricultural
workers in Queensland is more
than twice the rate in the general
employed population.
Tash grew up in Brisbane,
but she spent weekends on the
family farm near Toowoomba.
“I saw my parents almost
lose everything,” she says,
revealing her mother worked
20-hour nursing shifts seven
days a week to get through.
“She told me years later that
she’d wanted to kill herself. If
we can stop even one person
tying that noose or pulling that
trigger, then I’m happy.”
Nicki agrees. “Farmers need
to know we care, and that there
is help available. It’s the biggest
thing we hear people say: ‘I don’t
feel so alone anymore.’”For help and support in a crisis
contact Lifeline on 13 11 14.Struggling
farmers get
a boost from
food drops.Ilfracombe
Pictures: David Hahn/bauersyndication.com.au.Nicki (left) and Tash
knew they had to do
something to help.20 WD