My dad is the chief of our local volunteer bush fire brigade.
He's always been an inspiration to me.
So as soon as I was old enough, I joined up to be a firefighter myself.
I immediately loved everything about it.
Learning to fight fires and help people in need,
it was amazing.
But two years ago, my whole life changed.
My world fell silent.
I was diagnosed with lupus, Sarah Briedis,
an infection of the brain.
And suddenly, I lost my hearing.
I felt sad, crushed and ashamed.
I'd never even met a deaf person before.
I thought my life was over.
How would I have a social life if I couldn't even hear my friends?
Would I have to give up being a part of my bush fire brigade?
I had so many questions.
But I attended a school for the deaf
and I was introduced to the first deaf person I ever met.
And my bushfire buddies came to my rescue this time.
They went the extra mile to make sure I was still part of the family.
They installed flashing lights in my home and car to replace the sirens.
Now I can pretty much do anything they can.
And then behind me, I now see deafness as a superpower.
I noticed things I'd never noticed before.
I feel the surging power of the sea.
Going deaf is not a burden.
I am normal.
I am strong,
and I can still be whatever I want to be in this world.
We take the boat out into the mangroves to look for a feed.
I never want to take these kinds of days for granted.
My land, my culture, my brothers.
We are an odd mix.
But I love it.
Ali, Bastion, Joe, we don't normally get to hang out like we used to when we were
kids.
We all have such busy lives working,
my older brother is raising his own family.
So when we do get to hang out, it's a pretty special day.
The sticky mangrove mud.
It's a challenge to walk through, but it's always worth it.
Catching a mud crab hiding in a tree, cheeky little fella.
We throw the netting lines out into Dampier Creek to see what we can catch.
A few Mangrove Jack! YEW!!
We throw them in a small mud pool to keep them fresh.
We head back to shore and we make a little fire.
The older bros teach me skills and culture.
I really love this.
We use the leaves on the mangroves as our dinner plates.
The four of us talk about our younger days walking through the mangroves as
kids.
We lick our fingers as we eat up the Jacks.
The ol lollypop from the mudcrab claws a delicious dessert.
Sweet, sweet meat.
The day ends with the wash a swim.
As I think of all the memories you made today.
I never want to take days like these for granted.
Growing up on a stone fruit orchard,
I spent my summers climbing the trees.
I'd love to get up as high as I could and reach out for the juiciest fruit.
The apricots would ripen first, just before Christmas.
Mum, Dad, my brother and I would pick the fruit by hand
and sell it at the local markets.
We did it all together as a family.
But last Christmas, things changed forever.
I remember staring at the presents mum had wrapped just days before.
She'd often give us op shop gifts just as a laugh.
But there was no joy this year.
Just one day earlier, I'd shared my last smile with Mum.
A heart attack at 60.
The apricots were ready when mum died.
I stared at the orchard and I realised they wouldn't pick themselves.
My dad and my brother we all pitched in.
That's what mum would have wanted.
We pick blindly the tears didn't cease.
But it was also a way to keep life moving forward and bring us together.
We had so many people from the community come in and check on us
and they turned up out of nowhere to help pick and dry the fruit.
And it took losing mum to make me realise how special
family and country community is.
They pulled me throughout my absolute darkest days.
It's a year on and in the light afternoons,
I sit with the sheep on our highest hill and marvle at the panorama
of the beautiful forest
and of this place I call home.
We are getting ready to pick the apricots again.
I know mum won't be there in the orchard with us.
But somehow those apricots bring me closer to her
Since we were little boys,
my brothers and I have always had dirt in our hands.
Watching dad go about his work.
He's been a farmer for 40 years,
working hard to provide for our family.
Dad lives and breaths farming.
Dad lives and breaths farming. For him, and now me working out land is the best feeling ever.
For him, and now me working out land is the best feeling ever.
But it takes many hands to run a family farm.
Mum's always had our back,
doing all the finances a bookwork.
Getting us kids to school and sport,
making sure we have a beautiful home cooked dinner every night.
I'm the fourth generation to live in our old farmhouse.
It was built in 1919.
Dad inherited the farm when he was just 17,
after his father was killed tragically in a car accident.
As a teenager, it was a huge responsibility.
Milking the cows at 5am.
Feeding the cows at 6pm.
Plowing the paddocks, planting the crops, harvesting,
turning a profit.
Dads hard work inspires me to take on the farm myself.
But I know too well, how hard that can be.
We've just faced the worst drought we've ever seen.
Dry dams buying in feed, selling off some of the herd.
There wasn't a day that went by that we all said, please rain!
And another bad drought could be just around the corner.
But I still want to follow my dad's footsteps.
Take over the farm and keep the farming legacy going in our family.
I love being the son of proud farmers.
And I hope that one day I might be that proud farmer myself.
I remember mum saying to me.
If she could give me her eyes she would,
just so I could see.
By the time I leave school,
I could be completely blind.
I've a condition called glaucoma.
And this eye, I have limited amount of vision
and in this eye have close to nothing.
I've had 20 operations so far.
Just to slow down the process of me going blind.
4000 kilometers each time to visit my eye specialist in Perth.
As we travel the endless hot roads,
I stare out the window and dream of cold places.
The beautiful fjords of Norway.
The immaculate power of Niagara Falls,
or fog sweeping through the Golden Gate Bridge.
I used to be terrified that I never get to see these beautiful places.
But when I was 10, I went on a camp for the vision impaired.
One of our leaders was a sailor who was totally blind.
He talked about how he loved the smell of the sea and the sounds of the waves.
Hearing his story many realise that there is more to just seeing the world.
It won't be long before I feel the freezing water of the Norwegian sea on
my feet.
I will hear the awesome power of the Niagara Falls.
And smelling fog rolling off the Pacific through the Golden Gate Bridge.
No matter what happens to my eyesight,
I will experience the world.