At Bondi’s ‘sea of flowers’, tributes reveal a city’s grief

The sea of flowers outside Bondi Pavilion in memory of the 15 people who died last Sunday couldn’t be more Australian in its diversity.

A bunch of Dame Edna Everage’s much loved red gladioli curl in the gaze. Proteas from South Africa, the country many Australian Jews fled for a better life, seem robust in the heat, along with crocheted red Anzac Day poppies.

Many people have visited the shrine every day, including Neville Gafen from Dover Heights.

“It is a moment to stop and think, isn’t it? Why did this happen? Why do bad things happen to good people, a whole spectrum of thoughts go through your mind,” he said.

“Why would someone take the life of a 10-year-old child? We can’t answer those questions because we don’t know what brings people to do what that father and son did last Sunday.”

Like the people visiting the memorial, and those who died, the flowers come from everywhere, and every walk of life: bunches from the most expensive florists to those picked up from the local petrol station, with gum leaves tossed on top.

Flowers are interspersed with soggy Australian flags, wet plush toys of kangaroos and koalas symbolising Waltzing Matilda, the song that gave 10-year-old Matilda her name.

Bees, in memory of Matilda’s middle name, are also everywhere: on balloons, in toys, some wet and sad. They are surrounded by religious symbols; candles and menorahs, representing Hanukkah, the festival of light that ends on Monday.

A hand drawn card remembered her: “Precious Matilda bee, forever in our hearts.”

A group representing migrants from India’s Kerala, Navodaya Australia, had travelled to Bondi from Gosford, Penrith and Parramatta on Saturday to pay their respects and say their hearts were with the victims.

Group member Anand Antony from Old Toongabbie said they had moved to Australia for a better life.

“This is very disheartening,” he said. “Australia has a reputation as a peaceful country.”

Rabbi Yossi Friedman has promised to recite the names of the dead every hour next to the flowers where they are being remembered.

By the time he finished on Saturday, it was pouring. It was hard to tell where the rain ended and the tears began.

The rabbi said he didn’t know when the flowers would be removed, but he would remain there reciting the names until the end.

Seven days on from last weekend’s senseless attack, the smell of the yellowing chrysanthemums and the stench of dying daisies, some a week old, now permeates the air.

A bunch of blue hydrangeas, sagging in the heat and rain of the past few days, are accompanied by a note: “The attack is proof that our government has allowed for a crack in our identity to grow.”

By Saturday, even some of the mental health nurses and chaplains around the large pool of dead and dying flowers dotted with fresh had been worn out. A staff member said the messages to Matilda left by children were the hardest.

A large bunch of yellow lilies included an apology to the Jewish people of Sydney for the “atrocities that occurred last Sunday”.

Other cards offered help. “If you need help stopping antisemitism, email me,” read one. Another simply said: “We are standing with you.”

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