An Early Christmas Present

Today is exactly four weeks until Christmas Day.

And whether you look forward to it with dread or delight, it is highly likely you will give careful consideration to the sort of dinner you enjoy and the company you share it with. For the lucky ones, it’s a belly busting occasion with all the trimmings.

However there is a cruel and twisted irony in all of this which can’t be ignored. It also includes a Christmas present I would like you to consider.

Last Friday and Sunday we had to endure two days of heat. And didn’t we complain! At the same time in Longreach, Qld, they had just experienced 10 consecutive days of 45 plus degrees heat. By day it scorched the Earth and by night it was impossible to sleep. It was punishing and taxing.

In some areas of Australia, it hasn’t rained for two and a half years. (Source: ABC Landline) The drought has brought many farmers to their knees and they dare not look towards the sky for a cloud. There’s not a drop of rain or hope to speak of.

Consequently, many farmers have not been able to turn a dollar for months, even years. The only growth they have experienced is their bank debt. Most live on bank over-drafts and little sleep.

It Gets Worse
While they wait for rain, the banks have started calling in loans and foreclosing farms. It’s as if the banks had no idea a farmers income would be determined by the vagaries of the weather when they lent them the money.

And now they’re getting nervous. They’re worried they won’t get paid so they’ve started selling off properties at dirt cheap prices. And guess who’s buying most of them? You got it. Off-shore investors.

But the banks don’t care. They just want to rip the asbestos out of their balance sheets and dispose of it as soon as possible.

But here’s the rub…

During the GFC, the Federal Government underwrote the banks with an $880,000,000,000 guarantee. (Source: IRESS). But of course they could only do that because of us, the taxpayer.

But now the tables have turned. Just when the farmers need a helping hand, do you think the banks are willing to help them the same way the Federal Govt. assisted them six years ago? Not on your life.

It’s enough to embarrass any bank customer or shareholder with a conscience. Why can’t they do what they force their customers to do…stand in line and wait!

Agribusiness is a very small part of their business relative to home loans and wealth management. And if you don’t believe me just have a look at their profit results. The contribution from agribusiness is minuscule. You need a cut lunch and a map to find it.

However the Federal Govt. is not much better. It is literally easier to apply for a dole cheque which you don’t have to repay, than a loan which must be repaid. Again, both are funded by you and I, the tax payer.

Ironically, a month after Christmas Day is Australia Day. I just hope some of these bankers and politicians don’t boast of being Australian. Their short memories and recent behaviour is anything but. It’s as un-Australian as it gets.

The Present
Therefore, this week’s Moowsletter is dedicated to giving drought stricken farmers a helping hand.

To achieve that end, we recommend a wonderful website called ‘Buy a Bale’ www.buyabale.com.au  It is run by The Give Back Campaign and you can make a tax deductible donation for hay, diesel, or gift cards.

There’s also another important point that needs to be flagged.

If the very least you can do is make a donation of $10, that would be great. Just the fact someone is thinking about these people would mean the world to them. It could even be the circuit breaker for some poor bugger experiencing any dark thoughts right now.

So if you’re fortunate enough to enjoy a nice meal washed down with a cold drink on Christmas Day, just spare a thought for the men and women who produced it. Some within their peer group will get nothing more than crumbs and a mouth full of dust this year.

And the only thing worse would be asking your family to swallow it as well.

It’s as hard as hell for some right now and an early Christmas Present from us could make all the difference.

Thank you for your time.

Adam Carey

P.s. Here is one of my favourite poems by Murray Hartin called ‘Rain from Nowhere’. I love it. Please feel free to share it.

His cattle didn’t get a bid, they were fairly bloody poor,
What was he going to do? He couldn’t feed them anymore,
The dams were all but dry, hay was thirteen bucks a bale,
Last month’s talk of rain was just a fairytale.
 
His credit had run out, no chance to pay what’s owed,
Bad thoughts ran through his head as he drove down Gully Road
‘Geez, great grandad bought the place back in 1898,
Now I’m such a useless bastard, I’ll have to shut the gate.’
 
‘Can’t support my wife and kids, not like dad and those before,
Christ, Grandma kept it going while Pop fought in the war.’
With depression now his master, he abandoned what was right,
There’s no place in life for failures, he’d end it all tonight.
 
There were still some things to do, he’d have to shoot the cattle first,
Of all the jobs he’d ever done, that would be the worst.
He’d have a shower, watch the news, then they’d all sit down for tea.
Read his kids a bedtime story, watch some more TV.
 
Kiss his wife goodnight, say he was off to shoot some roos.
Then in a paddock far away he’d blow away the blues.
But he drove in the gate and stopped – as he always had
To check the roadside mailbox – and found a letter from his Dad.
 
Now his dad was not a writer, Mum did all the cards and mail
But he knew the style from the notebooks that he used at cattle sales.
He sensed the nature of its contents, felt moisture in his eyes,
Just the fact his dad had written was enough to make him cry.
 
‘Son, I know it’s bloody tough, it’s a cruel and twisted game,
This life upon the land, when you’re screaming out for rain.
There’s no candle in the darkness, not a single speck of light
But don’t let the demon get you, you have to do what’s right.’
 
‘I don’t know what’s in your head but push the bad thoughts well away,
See, you’ll always have your family at the back end of the day.
You have to talk to someone, and yes I know I rarely did,
But you have to think about Fiona and think about the kids.’
 
‘I’m worried about you son, you haven’t rung for quite a while,
I know the road you’re on ’cause I’ve walked every bloody mile.
The date? December 7 back in 1983,
Behind the shed I had the shotgun rested in the Brigalow tree.’

‘See, I’d borrowed way too much to buy the Johnson place,
Then it didn’t rain for years and we got bombed by interest rates.
 
The bank was at the door, I didn’t think I had a choice,
I began to squeeze the trigger – that’s when I heard your voice.’
 
‘You said “Where are you Daddy?
It’s time to play our game, I’ve got Squatter all set up,
you might get General Rain.”
It really was that close, you’re the one that stopped me son,
And you’re the one that taught me there’s no answer in a gun.
 
‘Just remember people love you, good friends won’t let you down,
Look, you might have to swallow pride and get a job in town.
Just ’til things come good, son, you’ve always got a choice
And when you get this letter ring me, cause I’d love to hear your voice.’
 
Well he cried and laughed and shook his head then put the truck in gear,
Shut his eyes and hugged his dad in a vision that was clear,
Dropped the cattle at the yards, put the truck away
Filled the troughs the best he could and fed his last ten bales of hay.
 
Then he strode towards the homestead, shoulders back and head held high,
He still knew the road was tough but there was purpose in his eye.
He called for his wife and children, who’d lived through all his pain,
Hugs said more than words – he’d come back to them again.
 
They talked of silver linings, how good times always follow bad,
Then he walked towards the phone, picked it up and rang his Dad.
And while the kids set up the Squatter, he hugged his wife again,
Then they heard the roll of thunder and they smelt the smell of rain.