On the farm, in rural communities, it’s a different story.
It’s pretty much “our” responsibility and that burden will prove too much for some.
In the Tairāwhiti region, unconfirmed suicides are at six, I know there are more in other rural communities.
Physical and financial support has been given - help to re-fence, food, generators and events aimed at supporting us and keeping us connected.
We have felt that love, that outreach from fellow New Zealanders and it made us feel good, even for brief moments.
But the harsh reality is that this isn’t something we need to cope with. It’s something that needs a whole rethink about what a climate-resilient (how I’ve come to despise this phrase) farming community looks like.
What lies ahead on farms is years of work to restore and protect our land and its infrastructure.
Culverts, drains, bridges.
As an example, redesigning and replacing two bridges on our farm would cost about $1.2 million.
I started farming post-Cyclone Bola.
I saw the devastating effect on communities and farming families, and I witnessed the response: reclassification of land; food producers changing tack; and planting out of steep hill country. Yet, Gabrielle said, “That’s not enough.”
Walking away from our farms isn’t an option. It would create economic insecurity for New Zealand.
So it isn’t just about us, it’s about you as well.
Most days, thinking about what our farmers are facing, how we protect our land and our combined futures consumes me.
Safer Farms, an organisation I chair, exists to bring industry and farmers together to prevent on-farm injuries and fatalities.
With cyclone-damaged farms and overwhelmed farmers, what it means to be safe on-farm just took on a whole new meaning.
A number of weeks ago, industry leaders came together and we did a rapid information-gathering exercise, capturing experiences of those impacted by the cyclone and considering what needs to change.
Immediate concerns were obvious — communities are not equipped if they’re cut off for extended periods; animal welfare issues arise from infrastructure damage; and psychological stress, burnout and overwhelm set in.
New considerations emerged.
We need a plan for communities to be able to respond to emergencies in their own way and draw on services they uniquely need.
Do we need a rural climate emergency response team where risk assessment in key areas is undertaken and leaders or representatives from insurance, banking, transporters, processors, industry bodies and local governments can react quickly in a crisis?
The big one for me was, what does community preparedness look like? What sort of model can communities invest in to create a place that can house and feed people, and act as a communication hub?
Somewhere safe from floodwater or landslides and where we can be physically and psychologically safe?
Gabrielle didn’t just have a flick in her tail, she had a long arm that still has us in its clutches.
Infrastructure is the invisible thread we have taken for granted, the thread that binds us and our livelihoods together.
She delivered a signal from the future one no one was prepared for.
- Lindy Nelson is a Wairarapa sheep and beef farmer. She is chair of Safer Farms and founder of the Agri-Women’s Development Trust.
