We can’t make it rain but helping our farmers is a no-brainer | Jess Adamson

Do you actually know where the food on your plate comes from or what it took to put it there, writes Jess Adamson.

Next time you sit down for bacon and eggs with smashed avo, tomatoes and a hash brown on the side, please think about where it came from.

There’s been plenty of talk lately about South Australia’s big dry, an insidious natural disaster.

Many of our farmers are on the brink, both financially and emotionally, because of it.

They’re not getting the help they’re crying out for and before too long that’s going to affect us all, starting with the price of that hot breakfast.

I spent a fair proportion of my childhood praying for rain.

The drought of the early 1980s left many of the state’s farmers financially crippled.

In the state’s Mid North, where I grew up, it was dire.

Our sheep were trucked out from barren paddocks to find feed hundreds of kilometres away. Crops sown in the hope of a late rain, came to nothing.

I felt helpless. Nothing I could do would change the predicament we were in.

A flight home from interstate a couple of weekends ago brought those memories back.

From the air, it’s heartbreaking. Bare paddocks turning to white, empty dams and dust storms whipping up the valuable topsoil and moving it from one place to another.

In the Mid North, Appila farmer Andrew Zanker has loaded up the last of his lambs for sale.

Andrew Zanker at his farm near Jamestown. Picture: Ben Clark

“We expect it to be dry and a bit dusty at this time of the year but it’s so much barer than normal, it’s the worst I’ve seen in my lifetime,” he says.

“The dust at the moment is starting to play on a few people’s minds, every strong wind there’s another dust storm. They reckon they could see it on the satellite images.”

Cash flow is a major issue for many. Andrew’s taken up fencing as on off-farm income. His wife Annie is a nurse at the local hospital.

The wellbeing of our farmers needs to become a national priority and not just during the tough times.

Why? Because in Australia, one farmer takes their own life every 10 days.

Our farmers are twice as likely to die from suicide than the rest of the working population.

It’s not just the dry and dusty paddocks keeping them awake at night, it’s the constant uncertainty.

Farming has always been a risky game. Uncertainty is part of the job.

Sheep in a dusty paddock at Andrew and Annie Zankers' Appila farm. Picture: Supplied

Every single day they’re managing enormous risk to provide us with food and fibre.

A global oversupply of wine, adverse weather events and international trade bans have seen our grape growers facing some of the toughest years in history.

There are pests and diseases, volatile market prices, tariff wars, fire, frost and floods. The risks have always been there, and they always will be.

Our farmers are good at solving problems when it comes to animals and machinery but have historically “toughed it out” when it comes to their health.

But what’s changed in recent years is that more farmers are talking about the emotional toll the job is taking on them.

Right now, men and women are coming off their farms to attend forums, barbecues and community events, sharing their worries, challenges and struggles.

In January, 100 farmers gathered at Booleroo Centre in the Mid North for an event titled Minds Matter.

It was a conversation that never would have happened when I grew up, when those on the land chose a stiff upper lip as they waited it out.

A 90-minute mental health awareness session gifted the locals the skills to recognise and tackle mental health challenges.

When the audience was asked if they’d ever thought the world would be a better place without them, a third of them stepped forward.

It was a powerful moment that symbolised a giant shift in attitudes.

Associate Professor Kate Gunn at the University of South Australia says farmers are more open than ever to putting their hand up for professional help but there’s confusion about where to turn.

And that’s where the opportunity lies.

Kate and the ifarmwell team at the University of South Australia, with the support of the National Farmers Federation, want a national helpline, set up exclusively for farmers.

It’s a $25m ask over five years and if we want to keep our farmers on the land they love, it’s an absolute no-brainer.

Dr Kate Gunn, Clinical Psychologist and Senior Research Fellow at UniSA who grew up on a farm near Port Kenny. Picture: Supplied

Kate has travelled the world to see what services are available to farmers and what works when it comes to wellbeing.

“The research shows farmers are less likely to seek help from a mainstream health service, their level of trust in mainstream services is low,” Kate says.

“When we tailor mental health and wellbeing services to farmers there’s much greater uptake.”

The farmer-friendly help line is a huge undertaking but one the federal government could and should commit to in the lead up to the election.

If our farmers are finally willing to work on their mental health, we must give them the tools to do it.

Our Primary Industries and Regions Department will soon release its first Suicide Prevention Action Plan.

Later this month they’re hosting a movie screening to illuminate the silent struggles within our farming communities, the ripple effect of suicide and the trauma experienced by those left behind.

Just a Farmer is sparking much needed conversations across the nation about mental health challenges and the lack of comprehensive medical support in rural areas.

It’s a confronting and heartbreaking story of a farmer, a father of two young children, who takes his own life amid the financial pressures of drought.

It’s screening at the Capri Theatre on April 9, with the money raised providing mental health support for those in our regional areas. Buying a ticket is one small way we can get behind our farmers.

We can also help by jumping in the car and visiting our regions.

They need our support more than ever with local businesses very much feeling the pinch.

And we can buy local. Buy the milk, buy the bread and oats, buy the beer and the wine.

Buy the meat, potatoes, tomatoes, mushrooms, apples and citrus fruits.

If you can, head to your local farmers’ market and meet the makers themselves.

Teach your kids that what they’re eating, drinking and wearing comes from our farmers because they deserve to be celebrated every day.

Farming is beautiful, rewarding and a lifestyle like no other but it can also be cruel, exhausting and soul destroying.

We can’t make it rain, stop the floods and frosts or control the markets, but we can get behind our farmers, letting them know how much we appreciate them.

Originally published as We can’t make it rain but helping our farmers is a no-brainer | Jess Adamson