The world is fast approaching a “climate apartheid” where only the wealthy can afford basic food resources in the face of fatal droughts, famine and heatwaves, while the rest of the world suffers. Revelation 6:5-6 And when he had opened the third seal, I heard the third beast say, Come and see. And I beheld, and lo a black horse; and he that sat on him had a pair of balances in his hand. And I heard a voice in the midst of the four beasts say, A measure of wheat for a penny, and three measures of barley for a penny; and see thou hurt not the oil and the wine.

‘Measure of Wheat for a Penny’: ‘Relentless’ farmers continue to battle the big dry in Australia. Same problems in Australia agricultural industry as in the US (minus tariffs). Worst drought in 100 years.

‘It’s dire’: farmers battle their worst drought in 100 years – photo essay

Sat 27 Jul 2019 18.00 EDTLast modified on Wed 31 Jul 2019 01.37 EDT. The Guardian.

Ten months on from when the entire state was declared in drought, patchy rainfall has provided some relief. Yet 96% of New South Wales remains drought affected, with 14.7% of the state classified as being in intense drought. For those in the worst affected areas the situation remains dire. Towns including Dubbo, Tamworth, Armidale, Cobar and Walgett are at real risk of running dry.

Keepit and Split Rock Dams are important water sources for the Namoi Valley, including Walgett. They now sit at just 1% and 2.2% of capacity respectively. A diving platform rests in the dust of Keepit dam, with no water in sight. Gravestones from a 160 year old homestead flooded at the same dams construction have been uncovered by the receding waters, providing a morbid reminder of just how dry things have become.

A few kilometres outside the small North Western slopes town of Warialda, Lilly Hollow runs 40 cattle, down from 90 at the onset of the drought, on her 960 acre property.

Hollow keeps her tractor parked by the house, rolling out of bed each morning to hand feed her stock in the dark before heading off to a 9-5 job. It’s a relentless and unforgiving routine necessitated by an unprecedented lack of rain in the area.

2018 saw less than half the average annual local rainfall. The 140mm received so far this year is the lowest on record for the region.

“I’m fiercely independent, but you need to be able to rely on those close to you,” says Hollow.

Joining Lilly on the day of my visit was her twin sister Catherine, now based in Sydney after leaving the country to pursue a career in radiology.

“We have a connection; it’s a twins thing. I know when Lilly is doing it tough, and when I need to come home,” says Catherine.

During a tour of the property Lilly stops her ute near the bones of her “keeper heifer”, Twisty (named for her bright yellow colour), lost to illness just a few weeks prior. The sisters embrace, shedding a tear in a moment of release. It’s a display of raw emotion that’s been common during my time in regional Australia during the drought.

Twelve months ago, after first hearing of the unfolding drought crisis via the regional press, I headed to the town of Coonabarabran, which was then on Level 6 emergency water restrictions.

In 2018, the scene was dire at Windy Hill farm, which is run by fourth-generation farmers Jess and Robert Taylor. The dams were empty, the paddocks littered with the rotting carcasses of fallen stock. Clouds of dust whipped up as cattle rushed for scarce rations hand fed by the family, which includes four young kids, Harry, Charlie, Bonnie and Heidi.

Last year the oldest, Harry, then just turned 6, had asked for rain for his birthday. No rain fell that day, and not a drop would arrive for another 6 months. This year the situation is slightly improved, yet the family remain on edge. “It’s tenuous,” says Jess Taylor of their situation. “Harry asked for rain again for his birthday, and this year he actually got a few millimetres. We have some hope.”

60 kilometres from the Taylor’s, their close friends the Jerry family are fifth generation farmers running sheep and cattle on their property Maryborough. At the head of the family is Coral Jerry, 81, who lives on the farm alone after her husband of 55 years died in 2015. Coral’s son Greg and wife Tanya manage the farm on daily visits from town.

It is here the cruel lottery of recent rainfall hits home. In 2018 the farm looked nothing short of apocalyptic; vast paddocks of red earth and dust populated by skeletal livestock. It has barely rained here since.

Images of sick and dying livestock on the Jerry’s property helped to jolt the nation into action. But according to Greg, the charity that flooded in, while greatly appreciated, faded away just as quickly as it came. “It feels like we have been forgotten,” says Jerry.

Jerry is not sure how long the family can hold out. “I’ve re-mortgaged and stretched as much as I can. There have been some storms around, we just haven’t been under them.”

On an afternoon spent with the unstoppable Coral, harsh reminders of the situation kept coming. In search of a cow Coral had identified earlier in the day as weak, we found the animal alive but collapsed from hunger. “It’s the crows that are the problem now,” Coral tells me, explaining how quickly the birds arrive to pick at the eyes of fallen stock.

After placing a blanket over the cow’s head, the rest of the herd surrounded the cow in a moving display of protection for their fallen mate. Coral would later return with her son to move the cow back to an area where they would attempt to hand feed her back to health.

“It has to be our turn soon,” says Coral of the lack of rain. “I just don’t stop, if I do, that will be it.”

I’m continually struck by the sheer physical and mental energy expended by people working the land during the drought. Many farmers have simply walked away. Others battle on, fighting to keep businesses often handed down for generations.

In the Northern tableland’s region, usually a safe haven during drought, the situation is no better. The town of Guyra is relying on water being trucked in. Nearby to the town are a string of upland wetlands (or montane lagoons), internationally recognised for their rarity and importance as a haven for rare birdlife. The lagoons are now bone dry.

Cassandra McLaren is a Merriwa farmer who runs the popular Facebook hub ‘One Day Closer to Rain,’ which is helping to connect struggling farmers. She is also a volunteer for the Lyon’s charity ‘needforfeed.org’. McLaren says “farmers are determined”, “but they are not sure how much longer they can continue. It’s important for people to know this drought is far from over.”

Ambrose Doolan and his wife, Lisa, run 9,000 acres with Angus cattle outside of Coonabarabran on their property, Toorawandi. Their daughter Emily returned to the farm at the onset of the drought to lend a hand. Ambrose, despite the often-desperate state of the family property, remains optimistic “We have to be closer to the end of this than the beginning,” he says.

Lilly Hollow sums up a common theme amongst the farmers I’ve met. “I have fierce love for this life and land, even when it’s at its harshest. I see the beauty through the dust and am grateful every day I can be out here.”