An uneventful travel day today. We’d enjoyed an explore through the R.M Williams Centre before hitting the road.
We pulled up for the night at Moura Rotary Park. Moura is a largish mining town and we were located on the corner of two major roads. There was a bit a truck noise but it wasn’t too bad and it was just for one night.
The park was situated next to some silo art. I am always a fan of silo art and marvel over how these large art works are done. After walking over to view the silo art I noticed on the other side of the train tracks a modern looking structure worth a look.
It turned out to be Moura’s Memorial to Miners. Kianga Coalfields are nearby and there has been a number of mining disasters her over the years, with a great may lives lost. More than I would have expected to see in our country.
Three major explosions have occurred at the Moura – Kianga mine in a 20 year period. In 1975 13 men died, 1986 12 miners died and 1994 with 11 dead miners. After the last disaster the mine was closed.
It was a moving memorial and you can only imagine the impact it would have on the town upon feeling and hearing one of these large explosions. Knowing there would be loss of life but who? Yet another little pearl of insight into the country we live, the industry and sacrifice people make doing these jobs. It’s all too easy to take things for granted being comfortable city dwellers.
The Men who Died at Kianga – By Frank Ward, Kianga Open Cut
I knew them well, and would like to tell. Of the men who tried, and the women who cried. For the men who died at Kianga.
Some so young and some were old, some were timid and some were bold. But did their jobs as men they should, and the risk they took they understood: The men who died at Kianga.
They went out there to douse the blaze, to save the mine for better days, So other men may make a living, not knowing then the price they were giving: The men who died at Kianga.
There was a cloud of dust in the sky that day, and the blast was heard far away. And eyes were turned to east and west, to the place where these good men rest: The men who died at Kianga.
Tonight women mourn and children weep, for the men who are now asleep. And have earned their rest, amongst the best: The men who died at Kianga.
On a summer’s night, when the time was right. In the sky; is that a star so bright, or perhaps it is a miner’s light. Of the men who died at Kianga.
In my own poor way I solemnly pray. That the God so grand, he will understand and lend a hand: To the men who died at Kianga.
When my time has come I tell you true, there is one thing I would like to do. That is to shake the head of that small game band: Of the men who died at Kianga.
We had our fun and a laugh and a row, but all that is forgotten now. And in my heart I feel only pain for the men I’ll never see again: The men who died at Kianga.
But if God is good, on some future day, in that place so far away. Where there is no grief or pain, I’ll meet with these friends once again. And know they’ll say with a friendly smile: We have been waiting for you quite a while, We the men who died at Kianga.
