The Great Flood Of 1852

In Wiradyuri country, the life-giving waters of the rivers can make or break dreams. When the floods come Wagadhaany survives, but is her life now better than the fate she escaped?

- Anita Heiss

Wild wind and torrential rain thrash the Bradley home. The pitter-patter of the first drops to fall has been quickly replaced with a pelting that hits the windows so hard they risk smashing. Wagadhaany shivers with fear as a bitterly cold draught come through a gap in the door frame.

‘We need to sandbag,’ Henry Bradley says forcefully, his role as the patriarch of the family never more tested than now. ‘Others have already done it. We’re going to lose everything if we don’t take action now!’

It’s an announcement and an order in one, his four sons jumping to attention instantly, as does Wagadhaany, waiting for her instructions as their servant.

‘No!’ Mr. Bradley’s wife, Elizabeth, has never raised her voice in their home and her challenge to her husband comes out with a tremble. She is fighting back tears and is visibly shaken by the torrential rain that is drenching their town. ‘We should just leave now, we should go to higher ground.’

She looks pleadingly at her husband as she keeps a firm grip on her Bible and prayer beads, shivering in the winter cold as it has been impossible to keep the living-room fire alight. By the look on Henry Bradley’s face, he isn’t happy being chastised by his wife. Wagadhaany is reminded of her father saying White men never listen on the day that she first saw Mr. Bradley.