THICK early morning traffic crawls into Lismore – tradesmen in utes and vans, and army trucks heading towards the once bustling commercial centre.
Now the main streets resemble a war zone – city block after block strewn with debris piled high – office equipment, cabinets and damaged goods.
Soldiers are spearheading a massive cleanup while traddies are at work ripping down first floor walls and ceilings, reroofing and rewiring buildings never imagined to go under in flood.
When emergency evacuation sirens sounded and floodwater spilled over the town levee on February 28, the water quickly rose to a record 14.37 metres, 2m above the 1954 and 1974 flood levels, engulfing Lismore and its low-lying suburbs.
The same deluge swamped villages and farms across the NSW Northern rivers region, causing huge damage to properties and roads. By the end of March the region had suffered a second deluge – parts of Lismore were flooded for a second time – compounding the loss and devastation.
“In times of tragedy, everyone seems to find God,” Lismore mayor Steve Krieg said.
A Catholic father of five, he is working around the clock leading recovery efforts for 50,000 people, while dealing with the loss of his own family home and business.
He has nothing but praise for how the community has rallied.
“And that’s been led by the church organisations and the Catholics are right there amongst it,” Mr Krieg said.
“… 4000 people civilian people got rescued from their homes, and when you’re lifting people out of boats, and literally coming in the clothes they were wearing and nothing else, it really is a humbling experience – quite a traumatic experience.
“And you know, to see organisations like (St) Vincent De Paul open their doors and feed and clothe the desperate people of Lismore is really remarkable.”
The 2022 flood has taken a massive toll – five dead, thousands homeless and untold damage wrought to houses, schools, businesses and public institutions.
St Carthage’s Cathedral, built more than 130 years ago on a hill supposedly out of the reach of floods, but this time the water gushed in, even moving the heavy timber pews.
“Luckily it (the water) didn’t go in to the sanctuary, it came up a few steps but didn’t go all the way in,” Lismore Bishop Greg Homeming, who was evacuated by boat, said.
By the next day volunteers were mopping mud from the cathedral, but the impact of the water means the cathedral won’t be in use until after Easter.
“The extraordinary thing is the event of such a significant tragedy has made everyone think about us and not themselves,” Bishop Homeming said.
“I contrast that with what happened with COVID-19. People were in the supermarkets fighting over toilet paper.
“Now people are taking toilet paper and giving it to people – the complete opposite because people’s focus is turned away from themselves in the fear of COVID to the care of the others who have lost everything.”
Even at Lismore’s St Vincent’s Hospital, high on a hill, floodwaters lapped on the boundaries without causing any damage.
Even so the hospital’s chief executive officer Steve Brierley, said that out of a staff of 600, 66 had lost all their possessions and would not be returning home for months.
“Everyone feels touched. Whether it’s working with a colleague who’s lost their home or whether they’re seeing the impact of family or friends who lost things,” he said.
While continuing to provide medical and health support, St Vincent’s responded directly to flood needs by sending urgently-needed bedding to the isolated town of Coraki, where it was reported people were living in their cars outside the local evacuation centre.
“They were a very wounded community,” Mr Brierly said after personally delivering sheets and blankets.
After the 2017 flood, Bishop Homeming provided mattresses – one, two, three or more – to any family that needed them.
In 2022, he is still considering how best to use Church donations that have flowed in from across the country.
“I’m going to hold off and see where the gaps are,” Bishop Homeming said.
Helping to cope with trauma by contributing to mental health services was one option, another is helping to provide permanent shelter in a region that already suffers from an acute housing crisis.
“One thing is very clear. You have to build social housing on land which won’t flood and that means building in a more expensive place, which pushes costs up,” Bishop Homeming said.
“I hope to begin some kind of social housing somewhere in the diocese within the next year or two.”
Mr Krieg is also hoping to focus recovery on housing needs.
“I think we’ve got to look at the land buy-back scheme that happened in Grantham (after the 2011 Queensland floods that allowed residents in Grantham to buy new land and house packages on higher ground),” he said.
“But I think the heart and soul of any town is their CBD and so I’m really hoping we can rebuild, even if it takes four or five years.
“People are scared by this, and hurting, but I think eventually optimism will come back.”
Exhausted communities are still regrouping after floodwaters hit again at the end of March. Across the Northern Rivers some evacuation orders remain in place and an estimated 15,000 people are still isolated because of landslips and damage to roads and bridges.
In Lismore at least 3,800 people are now classified as homeless, moving from evacuation shelters, to other temporary and makeshift accomodation including mobile homes and caravans, tents and cars.
