Helping the neighbour for youth week comp :So far Final five in Australia.

I sat quietly in the back of the taxi, letting the heavily accented words of the driver wash over me. His voice was soothing, melting away my concerns which bubbled to the surface after a ten-hour shift alone in the store I managed. The boss had decided he didn’t want to put any more money into retail, but also knew he didn’t want to close the store. So for 40 hours a week I stood behind the counter, taking abuse for the ever-diminishing stock levels. I regularly retired with a headache, unable to tune out the noise of store jingles and nagging customers. Tonight was different. I had lashed out on grocery shopping and acquired a fresh roast chicken, which now sat carefully on my lap. I breathed in deeply as it steamed up the passenger window. The chicken and a giant bag of groceries at my feet had prompted the driver to tell me of the new diet his wife had put him on. I continued to let the man’s voice wash over whilst planning my special dinner in my head. I bade farewell to my driver, taking comfort in the fact that we were essentially strangers; he knew nothing about me and as such, would not pester me with questions about today and my feelings. I slung my handbag around my body, balancing the roast chicken under one arm and the groceries under the other, stumbling riskily forward through my overgrown front yard. I could not wait to plunge into the impenetrable fog of silence that filled my home. I had recently thrown out my television and radio; the silence was a warm embrace tonight. As I reached my front door my thoughts began to wander to the house next to mine. I stood looking across our twin-neglected lawns and noticed her car was still in the driveway. I must have stood thinking for some time because the chilly evening turned to night and a light rain began to fall. My mind made up, I left my own yard and walked purposefully next door with my groceries still balanced around me. I had not seen my neighbour for exactly six months but I knew she was taking the loss a lot worse than me. Not worse, perhaps, but it was definitely a more visible depression that had overcome her. I knew from those around me who still spoke to her that since he had died, she had not been seen. They said she had lost her job and garbage was over flowing from bins, cupboards and tables tops. I knocked at the door and the first thing I noticed was a strange smell, although I could have imagined it. I wanted her home to stink. I wanted her world to fall apart. I wanted her to be the one who had died instead of him. Hers was not a justified depression in my opinion. She deserved no pity; she had been nothing but his nameless, faceless whore. It was only after he had died anyone admitted knowing anything of them together. The name and face of my unknown enemy became the name and the face of the woman next door. She had been my childhood friend and he had been the love of my life. Losing him became a double blow. No one answered my knock. I would have walked away but the wind began to pick up and the rain fell harder. I pushed open the door as I imagine he had done quietly many times before me. Her house didn’t really smell unpleasant, but it was definitely a mess. I put the groceries down in the
kitchen and cleared some counter space. It made me feel hollow being there, but I couldn’t stop. I was almost addicted to the feeling. I started by washing some dishes. I cut up some lettuce and tomatoes and finally unwrapped the chicken. I took the chicken apart, slowly, with clean warm hands, piling it all up on a spare plate. The ingredients sat waiting to be put together.
I walked around the house so familiar to me, piling dirty laundry in my arms, looking for my neighbour and former friend. I walked down the cluttered stairs to her bedroom. I thought she must have heard my clumsy attempts at cleaning. Where was she? I put the laundry into the machine and took out the wet clothes that were beginning to smell, placing them into the dryer. The noise caused the door to her bedroom to open. My neighbour’s head cautiously poked out from behind it. She did not look surprised to see me. Her eyes were expressionless but I thought I saw something of a smile approach her lips, stopping before it could take hold. I took her by the hand and led her upstairs, to the biggest bathroom. I undressed the friend of my childhood and turned the taps on warm and firm. Without saying anything she stepped in while I left her and went back to the kitchen. When she got out of the shower we ate the sandwiches I had prepared. We said little, but the mood in the room was not a heavy one. Afterwards I washed all the dishes and put them away, while she watched me silently. The clean warm smells of the laundry began to fill the house. It made me feel comfortable. Still, I got up to leave. “Don’t go”, She said. When I looked at her, I felt sad. We had been left alone to deal with our grief. The resentment and desolation that surrounded everything had scared away anyone who might have tried to help. She frantically poured us each a glass of red wine, handing me one, pleadingly. I sat down. I left her house in the early light of morning. I took my shoes off, let the dampness from the cool earth seep through my socks, and lifted my face to the sun. Though we had not slept I felt refreshed Together we would be okay, it was a good start. I left her house in the early light of morning. I took my shoes off, let the moisture from the damp ground seep through my socks and I lifted my face to the sun. Though we had not slept I felt refreshed. I suddenly understand that holding on to my feelings alone all this time has not helped me at all. I had been letting my pain turn me into a prisoner. I looked back at her door, still in deep shade. Even after everything that had gone before, we are the same. We need each other and this is something. It is a start.

Freeganism for Opus Magazine: Eating for free and saving the world.

As a Uni student, I know first-hand how important food is, especially as one of the greatest forms of procrastination when studying. I am also only too aware of the very limited funds available to a full time student who has just recently moved out of home. Freeganism is the idea of foraging through bins, from neighbour’s fruit trees and begging for scraps that allows us to eat to our hearts content for free.  But is it possible? My three friends and I found that although it may leave you with little dignity, it most certainly is. I’d like to say we did it as a social experiment but mostly we were just hungry. 

We all jumped in the car one night and began the mission of searching through Coles and Woollies bins. Feeling very optimistic we were very let down to find the bins in either a disgusting state smelling like rotten fish, or completely inaccessible. After a few more tries we found that the best places to raid the bins are the smaller, independent shops. Fruit shops and fruit barns are a great place to start.

The best way to get edible (please note this is a very important distinction; don’t eat something just because you can) food is by asking right before a fresh food store is closing. Places we have succeeded in getting free food are: Donut King, Bakers Delight, Red Lea and Domino’s pizza. It’s not rude to ask if there are any left-over’s that would otherwise get thrown out, you’re actually helping the environment by recycling and preventing waste.

Truth be told, we were only playing at Freeganism. True Freegans do not participate in consumption of resources at all, only using what they can find and relying on the generosity of strangers.  Their beliefs are not just in boycotting an unethical economic system, but go further towards ideas of Free-housing, waste minimization and green transport.  

If you’re interested in more information on the Freegan way of life, go to http://freegan.info/. If you can get something for free or cheap that would otherwise have been wasted, do it. You’ll get that bit of dignity back when you think about how you’ve just helped the planet. Every little bit counts!