'It's not a secret': Inside the town where people don't exist

A worker sits in a makeshift home in Robinvale. (ABC News: Jeremy Story Carter) Link copiedShareShare articleIn a community like no other, what happens when people aren't counted? On one side of a stainless-steel bench, chips and fish swim against a tide of spluttering hot oil in full fluorescent visibility of a seemingly unremarkable takeaway shop. On the other, obscured slightly from view, a chef assembles a laksa so deeply flavoured and bracingly spicy it would likely prompt a line out the door if it were in Melbourne. Welcome to Robinvale, where things aren't always as they appear. "There's more to Robinvale than meets the eye," says local business owner Julieanne Loy. To understand the Victorian town, nestled in a north-western nook of the Murray River, is to understand its people. Robinvale, according to the most recent Census, is home to 3,740 people. "Everyone knows in this town we have a lot more population than that number," says Lane Li, who runs the fish 'n' chipper/laksa takeaway spot. There are clues to be found almost everywhere you look. Start in the supermarket aisles, where tinned quail eggs jostle for shelf space with country-palate-defying chilli products, durian and packs of frozen snails. How many regional towns, let alone those with fewer than 4,000 people, have five Asian supermarkets on the main street? There are no traffic lights, but there are churches of differing denominations on almost a dozen street corners. Across the road from the Greek Orthodox Church, the local Uniting Church parish advertises alternating Sunday services for Tongan and Fijian worshippers. "It honestly is the only place that's like this," local Jacky Rowe says. For any of it to be possible — the food, the churches, the abundant sense of community life — there would have to be at least twice as many people living in the area. The answer is hidden in high-vis camouflage. As evening descends on Robinvale, workers from a constellation of cultural backgrounds can be seen moving throughout the town. Some might stay for just a few months, but that is only part of the picture. These workers and their families, at least as far as the Census is concerned, do not exist. "The data that we see doesn't match to reality," said Alisi Fangaloka, who runs a local labour hire company. "Here on the ground, you see something different." Robinvale and the neighbouring NSW town of Euston are enveloped by a fertile patchwork of farms. If you have eaten a table grape, almond or carrot, there is a healthy chance it was grown in the region, which lies a 5-hour drive north of Melbourne and 10 hours west of Sydney. "It's the lifeblood of the town," says local table grape grower Fred Tassone. The engine powering that agricultural productivity is a largely migrant workforce. Those workers are counted on to feed Australians, but they are not always counted on paper. In 2019, supermarket and bank transactions as well as water usage in Robinvale were analysed by consultancy firm Geografia. What it found wasn't consistent with a population below 4,000. The results instead suggested there were between 7,000 and 8,800 people living in town, depending on the time of year. To some, that discrepancy might seem like merely an accounting error, but the consequences are significant and far-reaching. "If you're basing all of your service assumptions on a smaller population than what's actually there, then you're not getting enough resources to provide those services," says Bruce Myers, chairperson of the Robinvale Euston workforce network. "That would affect education, health services, emergency services, local government, you name it." A report recently commissioned by the local Swan Hill Rural City Council found the "enduring inaccuracy in population measurement is, potentially, perpetuating inequalities and disadvantage". There is no better, or perhaps worse, way to view that disadvantage than through the town's desperate housing shortage. Every second post on the local community Facebook page is from a worker seeking out somewhere to live. There were 1,370 dwellings recorded in the 2021 Census. If the estimated population of about 8,000 is to be believed, that suggests a ratio of almost six people per dwelling, more than double the Australian average. It only takes a short drive around town at night to see signs of overcrowding. Caravans jammed out the back of homes; eight or more cars parked out the front of others. "There are three-bedroom homes where you probably find 10 to 15 people cramped up in," says local business owner Mario Masasso. Some properties have ramshackle structures tacked on in the backyard. The ABC gained access to such a house, on the agreement no-one inside would be identified. An overbearing smell of stale cigarettes and cleaning chemicals hung in the air amid a yellowish gloom. Shafts of light knifed through gaps in the grimy mishmash of materials representing doors, walls and w

'It's not a secret': Inside the town where people don't exist

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'It's not a secret': Inside the town where people don't exist

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