Five years on, residents have rebuilt or relocated

Five Years On: Reflections on the Black Summer and Its Lasting Impact

The 2019-2020 bushfire season, known as the Black Summer, left an indelible mark on Australia. The fires, which began in July 2019 and lasted until March 2020, were the most severe in the nation’s recorded history. They destroyed over 3,000 homes, caused an estimated $10 billion in damage, and directly led to 33 deaths. The fires also killed or displaced 3 billion animals, leaving ecosystems devastated. As the fifth anniversary of this catastrophic event approaches, the scars—both physical and emotional—remain deeply etched in the lives of those affected.

For many, the memories of that summer are still vivid. The orange, ashen skies, the choking smoke that filled city streets, and the televised images of public grief and anger are seared into the collective consciousness. The Black Summer was not just a series of fires; it was a turning point, a moment that forced Australia to confront the realities of climate change and the fragility of its natural landscape. The emotional toll on communities was immense, with survivors describing long-term psychological trauma, including anxiety, nightmares, and a heightened fear of fire. For some, the trauma has been so profound that they have struggled to rebuild their lives, even five years later.

Rebuilding Lives and Communities

In the immediate aftermath of the fires, the focus was on survival and providing basic necessities to those who had lost everything. Communities came together to offer support, and the public responded with an outpouring of generosity. However, the road to recovery has been long and arduous. For many, the process of rebuilding has been fraught with challenges, from navigating complex bureaucracy to dealing with the financial and emotional strain of starting over.

Barbara and Dave Rugendyke, whose home in Cobargo was destroyed in the fires, have faced their share of struggles. After living in tents, a caravan, and a demountable, they have finally moved into their rebuilt home. While they have managed to replace some of what they lost, including gifts for their foster children, the emotional scars remain. Barbara, who once planned her life years in advance, now finds it difficult to think about the future. “We’ve both changed a lot,” she says. “I can’t be bothered thinking about the future too much.”

The Rugendykes are not alone in their journey. John Walters, a volunteer with the Rural Fire Service (RFS) and now chair of the Rebuild Cobargo project, has seen firsthand the challenges of rebuilding. The project, initially expected to be completed by June 2024, has been delayed due to a series of setbacks, including a builder going into administration and the discovery of lead contamination from the fires. Despite these hurdles, Walters remains resolute. “It’s still part of our currency that we were the little mouse that roared,” he says, referencing the community’s defiance in the face of adversity.

The Changing Landscape of Communities

The Black Summer not only destroyed homes and livelihoods but also altered the fabric of communities. Cobargo, a small village on the South Coast, was one of the hardest-hit areas. Its main street was razed, and the village gained international attention when then-Prime Minister Scott Morrison was confronted by angry locals during a visit in early January 2020. Five years later, the main street is no longer an open wound but a construction site, a testament to the community’s resilience. However, the scars of that day still linger, and some residents remain divided over the interaction with Morrison.

For many, the sense of community that once defined their lives has been lost. Cath Bowdler, whose home in Rosedale was destroyed, reflects on the profound changes she has observed. “It’s not the house and all of that, it’s the community that’s disappeared,” she says. In her street, only three houses remained standing, and the tight-knit neighborhood she once knew is gone. This sense of loss is echoed by others, including Averill Berryman, who was forced to relocate to central NSW after her businesses in Mogo were destroyed. “I didn’t want to see that again,” she says, referring to the trauma of the fires.

The Ongoing Struggle with Trauma and Recovery

The psychological impact of the Black Summer has been profound, with many survivors struggling to come to terms with their experiences. For some, the trauma has been so severe that it has affected their ability to rebuild their lives. Kevin Allen, who lost his family’s 130-year-old homestead in the fires, never fully recovered from the loss. His son Daniel believes that the stress and trauma of losing their family history were too much for his father to bear. “He never could get over it,” Daniel says.

Children have also been deeply affected by the fires. Nate Maher, who was just five years old when the fires bore down on his family’s home in Malua Bay, has experienced continued anxiety and nightmares. His mother, Erin, has sought help for her own struggles, unable to return to the beach where they sheltered during the fires. The psychological toll on children was highlighted in a 2021 UNICEF report, which found that two in five children and young people were either directly affected or knew someone who was directly affected by the fires. The report also noted that the impact on their mental health could be long-lasting.

Finding Hope and Healing in the Face of Adversity

Despite the challenges, there are stories of hope and resilience emerging from the ashes of the Black Summer. Helen and Steve Stafford, who lost their home in Cobargo, have rebuilt their lives with a new house designed to withstand future fires. The experience has taught them to appreciate the small things and to find strength in their community. “By doing that, you didn’t get too comfortable—you made it comfortable enough that you could survive,” Helen says.

For others, the journey of rebuilding has been easier. Erin and Adrian Maher, whose son Nate has struggled with anxiety, have found solace in the kindness of strangers. After losing their home in Conjola, they received an unexpected gift from their children’s high school principal, who offered them copies of their children’s school photos. “It’s the little things that got them through,” says Misha Dodos, whose partner, Penny Lovelock, also lost their home in the fires.

Looking to the Future with Caution and Hope

As the fifth anniversary of the Black Summer approaches, many are reflecting on how far they have come—and how far they still have to go. The fires were a wake-up call for Australia, highlighting the urgent need for climate action and better disaster preparedness. Jack Egan, whose home in Rosedale was destroyed, has become a vocal advocate for reducing fossil fuel use, arguing that safety measures alone are not enough to address the rising dangers of climate change.

For those who have lost so much, the future is uncertain. Some, like Barbara Rugendyke, have found it difficult to look ahead, while others, like John Walters, are focused on rebuilding and creating a better future for their communities. As the nation continues to grapple with the aftermath of the Black Summer, one thing is clear: the fires may have changed us, but they have also shown us the strength and resilience of the human spirit.

In the end, the story of the Black Summer is one of loss and resilience, of trauma and hope. It is a reminder that even in the darkest moments, there is always a way forward, and that the bonds of community and the kindness of strangers can help us rebuild and heal. As we look to the future, we carry with us the lessons of that fateful summer, determined to create a world where such tragedies are never repeated.