From hill to hand – how the Salvos are helping Victorian farmers in crisis
- 6 hours ago
- 6 min read
BY LERISSE SMITH
Every few weeks, Mark Thomas drives up to the one hill on his sheep farm in regional Victoria, switches off the engine, and has a bit of a chat with God.
There’s no script, no ritual, no polished prayer for this farmer, Community Engagement Worker and Ministry Assistant at Hamilton Salvos. Just an important, much-needed chat.
On the agenda?
“It can be anything,” he reflects. “I ask for rain, but I also ask for the ability to get through this dry period.”
The special prayer time isn’t a symbolic gesture. It’s survival.
Across his beloved South Grampians community and Western Victoria, many farmers are in crisis, caught in a perfect storm of drought, skyrocketing costs, critical water shortages, and an inability to pay their workers. Some are hanging on. Others are barely holding on by a thread.
“It’s hand to mouth, week to week,” says Mark. “It’s just about trying to get through.”
And in the midst of it all, the Salvos have become a vital lifeline.
Providing practical, emotional and spiritual support, Mark and his team work tirelessly to help their community do more than just survive.
Meet Mark, and it’s immediately apparent he’s totally dedicated to helping and supporting his deeply valued rural community. When they hurt, he hurts. Living out the Salvos’ core values, including compassion and respect, is a top priority.
Support for farmers comes in whatever form is needed – from food to furniture.
“We deliver food to workers on farms because the farmers can’t give them enough money,” he says.
“They will still work the hours, but the farms are not paying their workers because they just can’t afford to – and the workers want to work, they want to keep their jobs. But they’re not being paid because there’s just no money to do that. So, we support them with anything from furniture through to food – anything they need. We try and find it and give it to them.”
Farmers doing it tough who may not have workers because they’re smaller farms need support too. The Salvos help with food, clothing and bedding, whatever items are needed. Celebrating the Christmas season and presents for children are not forgotten either.
“When we find a need, we try to help them with that need,” says Mark. “They may even need advice because I’ve been a farmer for 40 years. I’ve got experience and if they’re unsure about something, I try to give them some assistance if I can.”
The stories he shares across the farming and local community are sobering.
One farming worker has gone from five days a week to two, and he doesn’t even get paid for those two. Instead, he might receive meat when livestock is processed, or the occasional cash when animals are sold.
Some rely on government support. Others refuse. Pride, independence, identity – these run deep in farming communities.
Then there’s what stays hidden.
“I have had farmers’ wives come in, who do the books for their farm, and have asked me not to tell their husbands (whom I don’t know) that they don’t have enough money to feed their family that week and asked if I could help,” Mark explains. “They are afraid their husbands would not handle it well.”
It’s a hardship he understands firsthand.
He has been running his sheep farm for four decades. His largest dam is at its lowest level since it was built 80 years ago. A kind of low not just measured in water, but in worry.
The pressures facing many farmers are being shaped by forces far beyond the farm gate. Global events such as fuel price spikes and conflict overseas are being felt more sharply than in most places.
“I hope and pray that this fuel price hike will be short-lived,” he emphasises.
“With no other options to send or receive goods to and from rural areas, it will make it incredibly difficult for those trying to survive with all costs rising: insurance, living expenses, equipment, motor vehicles, farming parts, oil, chemicals, school fees, labour and more.”
It may seem insurmountable.
“For many farmers, spending has been cut, and there is nothing else to cut,” he adds.
“It is leading to many sleepless nights and looking for other options that can lead to environmental degradation and long-term damage … When it comes down to it, if primary producers are doing it tough, it means we will all do it tough because we all have to eat!”
Mark is a fifth-generation farmer. Wool is their main income. His son is the sixth, carrying the load with four other jobs just to keep things afloat. Together, they keep the farm alive, running about 1200 sheep – less than half the property’s carrying capacity.
“Because of the drought, we’ve had to sell off a lot of our stock so we can keep the ones we can breed from,” he says. “It is very hard to see a future for the next generations.”
Not only does Mark work for the Salvos, but he’s a fifth-generation farmer. Due to the drought, they have had to sell off a lot of their stock so they can keep the ones they can breed from. (Image supplied of the sheep)
And the tough fact is that legacy doesn’t pay rising bills. The numbers tell the story – his insurance has doubled from $10,000 to $20,000.
When farms struggle, entire communities feel it. Workers lose hours, then wages, then certainty. Local businesses empty out.
Even the small industrial estates tell the story.
A recent visit to a factory block revealed not one of the doors open: “I’d been to the factory before and you couldn’t even get a car park,” Mark remarked. “This time, there was only one other car in the six factories ... it just shows you how much things have gone down.”
Underground water levels are also dropping dramatically. To put a bore down costs a farmer $30,000 to $40,000.
While helplines are offered as another formal support to farmers, they are rarely used. Instead, they rely on families. There’s the pub culture too, though fewer people are turning up these days.
The end result? The strain is often absorbed quietly, internally, often invisibly. Nothing replaces rain. Nothing beats green grass in a paddock.
Yet farmers keep going, doing what they’ve always done: they hope.
“They’re just hoping that they will be good around the corner,” Mark emphasises. “That things will change. They know the weather won’t stay like this forever.”
And faith, too, surfaces in unexpected ways.
“God and the Salvos do come up in conversation,” he says. “They will say: “I don’t know why God has put us in this position,” or “Why doesn’t he send rain?’ They don’t talk about it overly, but they do open the door occasionally.”
But Mark doesn’t pretend to have answers.
“Normally, when somebody brings that up, I say, “Well, I don’t know God’s plans, but I know that, in the end, it will be for good.” They don’t blame God – but they just want to know when he is going to help?”
Faith is also less about explanation and more about endurance.
“In my prayers every night, I ask for wisdom in all of this,” he says. “I believe there is a purpose in everything.”
So, what keeps him going?
“God,” he says simply, “It’s really only through his strength I can do any of it. I don’t think I’m qualified to do any of it. But he strengthens me and guides me in everything I do. I rely on him for everything.”
