Megan Jennaway, South Golden Beach
I am in Turkey. I arrive at my destination to find that we do not have a change of government in Australia.
Eight hours ago, when I boarded my bus, it was still possible. The pundits had all predicted a Labor victory. But Scott Morrison had done too good a job of mowing down all opposition with his winning formula of bluster and bombast.
This is the man who infamously desecrated our parliament by brandishing a lump of coal at the nation from within it; who disingenuously told us we had nothing to fear from this harmless little nugget.
This evangelical shape-shifter, this hard-nosed silencer of refugees turned Aussie good bloke who now leads the country, declared that God had worked a miracle last weekend. But the only miracle was that Australians, usually so quick to detect and ridicule hubris, and humbug, fell for it. We’ve sleep-walked into at least another four years – perhaps more (!) – of dangerous climate-change denialism and dullard government.
I am in Turkey. I’m ashamed to tell people I’m an Australian. And I’m dreading going home to a country I don’t recognise; a country to which I fear I no longer belong.