I'm lying in bed, staring at the ceiling of my cell. I have a neighbour either side of me, in their own private cell too. I can hear their breathing and I can almost hear their thoughts.
When will I be able to leave this place?
With the COVID-19 outbreak spreading throughout Australia, we have all been confined to our small, three-by-six metre rooms.
We are watched by eagle-eyed security guards to ensure we thoroughly wash our hands before entering the kitchen at mealtimes.
As we line up for food dispensed from a bain marie, we are policed by roving staff to check that we are standing on one of the duct tape crosses that are dotted across the floor.
Group socialising is not allowed anymore. The gym is shut. We are only able to exercise or socialise with one other person, all the while maintaining a 1.5-metre distance.
I'm not writing this from inside prison. I am lying in my "donga" on a mine site in the remote Pilbara region of Western Australia where I work as an engineer.
We are lucky to still be employed, but we are all feeling the isolation here more than ever.
When you live in a 'donga', working from home feels like a luxury
Sitting at smoko (or "morning tea" as you city folk call it), we browse through memes, complaints and coronavirus-related anecdotes online about the challenges of working from home.
We shake our heads in disbelief. We are left out of the joke. Instead, our life has become a joke. We must laugh instead of cry at the bizarre rules that seem to be announced daily.
We are only able to socialise with one other person at night (when you really need a beer, a laugh and an opportunity to destress with your friends), but at work we can all sit inside for large meetings together, or share cigarettes outside in close proximity?
Each morning we start taking bets on what new rule some Perth-dwelling HR person has dreamed up.
The thought of being confined inside your own comfortable environment with your family, your own bed and still being able to travel outside for exercise or essentials at the shops is a sick fantasy to us.
FIFO life can be exciting but it has its challenges
FIFO (fly-in-fly-out) work is already a testing occupation. It challenges the natural abilities, relationships and mental health of most. It's tough, but it can also be rewarding.
I started working in construction and mining whilst studying at university. It's fast-paced, exciting and the money is pretty damn good too. It definitely beats a classroom.
I am 29, I have worked on and off in mining for over eight years, and had many on and off relationships thanks to mining.
However, combining COVID-19 and its side effects with the challenges that already exist in the FIFO industry has only aggregated feelings of tension onsite.
Each morning before our shift begins we are given a fresh COVID-19 update: how many people are currently isolated onsite, what roster changes are occurring, what new travel measures are being implemented and what standard liberty is being removed from us next.
This is then followed by group speculation and rumour.
"I've heard on one site they have given all employees a $3,000 COVID-19 bonus."
"I've heard one site is paying for all interstate staff to relocate, do you think I'll have to relocate?"
"I've heard that if you're from a regional area in Western Australia you won't be let back in."
These rumours, overlaid with social media conspiracy theories and fear mongering news articles, only add fuel to the anxious fire that is simmering within all of us.
New site-wide rules have been implemented for personal safety, such as closing down the wet mess (onsite pub) and all recreational facilities, introducing mandatory hand washing before meals, and compulsory mask wearing when undertaking travel in cars and planes.
We all share in the torpor of the mine site, as our extracurricular activities are removed from our daily routine. We have nothing left to do and no-one to do nothing with.
Lifelessly, we maintain mining operations around the clock. The machine still breathes.
'We don't want you'
Production continues because mining is classified as an essential service — last year the mining and energy sector brought in over $174 billion to the Aussie economy.
The Western Australian economy draws 36 per cent of its gross state product from this industry alone. It employs over 124,000 people out of the 200,000-strong mining workforce nationwide.
However, the reciprocal effects from national and state policy are beginning to test daily operations throughout the industry. Rosters are changing. State borders have closed. Staffing is limited.
But when COVID-19 hit, the WA Premier Mark McGowan announced in April that his state would be implementing a hard border closure.
"If you're not a Western Australian and you want to come to WA, don't come. We don't want you. Stay at home," he said.
His words hit hard.
This is our second home. We have spent years working here. We contribute to the economy and culture. I feel like Gandalf in Lord of the Rings: "I'm not trying to rob you — I'm trying to help you".
What did this mean for me and the other 3,000 FIFO workers who frequently commuted across state borders for work? Apart from instantly worrying if we still had jobs, that is.
Essentially, if I returned home to South Australia I could have a week or two off, but upon return would be subject to two unpaid weeks of quarantine in a hotel of my choice, at my expense.
This may be achievable once for some that can afford to do this, or the lucky few who had company sponsorship, but for most people it is not a sustainable model of employment.
Tough rules
Western Australia has some of the toughest rules governing FIFO workers in the country.
Originally, McGowan estimated that the hard closure would last for only weeks, which seemed doable. But it is now November.
The WA Government announced last week that those from "very low risk" states would soon be allowed to enter the state.
By now, many of us haven't returned home, or seen our families, partners and kids in six months.
Some large mining companies have begun offering financial assistance to employees to entice them to temporarily or permanently relocate to WA.
However, this is no new arrangement. For a few years now the WA Government has been trying to reduce the numbers of interstate workers employed locally by luring them into relocating.
With a global pandemic creating havoc with the FIFO lifestyle, now seems to be the perfect time to capitalise on the idea.
Not many are rising to the offer. It's a gamble. Picking up your life to move during a pandemic is wild.
But staying here working long rosters to avoid quarantine is wild too.
Who knows what will happen in another three months, or a year? The only known is that the foreseeable future is unknown.
Luckily miners are a resilient lot. We tough out the hard sun, long hours and questionable camp food.
For us, this will be just another notch on our belts.
https://news.google.com/__i/rss/rd/articles/CBMiW2h0dHBzOi8vd3d3LmFiYy5uZXQuYXUvbmV3cy8yMDIwLTExLTA5L2Nvcm9uYXZpcnVzLW1lYW5zLWZpZm8td29ya2Vycy1jYW50LWdvLWhvbWUvMTI4Mzk1OTDSASdodHRwczovL2FtcC5hYmMubmV0LmF1L2FydGljbGUvMTI4Mzk1OTA?oc=5
2020-11-08 18:00:00Z
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