They'll bury me in my yellows

In a tinder-dry continent during one of the most dangerous fire seasons on record, Sue Smethurst meets the all-women, all-Indigenous fire crew that’s protecting family, community and sacred land.

Charmaine Sellings keeps a close eye on inky clouds rolling around the horizon. “Just one crack of lightning on a stormy day could be disastrous,” she says, looking across brittle paddocks sweeping up to the edge of the parched forest surrounding her community’s 5000-hectare home.

Like so many parts of Australia, picturesque Lake Tyers in eastern Victoria has suffered crippling drought in recent years, and as a consequence there’ll be no summer break for Charmaine or the Country Fire Authority brigade she leads. Instead, they’ll be on-call, keeping watch over this tinder-box patch of sacred land.

“Things are pretty desperate,” Charmaine says. “We are in extreme conditions, our dams are empty and it’s not a good situation. The crew will work around the clock. We hope for a quiet summer but we fear the worst.”

Charmaine’s crew is Australia’s first all-Indigenous, all-female fire brigade, a highly skilled bunch of mothers and grandmothers who can pull a strike-team together faster than wildfire. These trailblazing women are the backbone of the remote Lake Tyers Aboriginal Trust, a self-governing Aboriginal community in the state’s far east.

“It’s not that men aren’t welcome – in fact, we’d love the fellas to join us and help out!” Charmaine quips.

“Every now and then a fella comes along but they don’t seem to last too long. I don’t think they like taking orders from me,” laughs the vivacious 52-year-old grandmother of three.

With only one access road in and out of the isolated peninsula, which is hemmed in by thick bush on one side and a vast lake system on the other, the station’s 200 residents, who are among the most vulnerable in Australia, rely on these fearless fireys to keep them safe.