The old, torn paper shopping bags split open as they hit the grey concrete floor. There was a loud clatter as muesli bars, small cans of tuna, a jar of pickles and other provisions scattered at his feet. Juz had just collected five and a half kilos of food to last him two weeks. Food that didn’t need cooking or further preparation, that wouldn’t go off in hot weather. Food containers easy to open by hand, then eat the food. He stood alone, hunched and stared down, without expression, just a quiet ‘Fuck it’ before leaning down. I walked over and quietly said, “It’s OK mate, I’ll grab a couple of bags and help you pick things up”.
Foodbank has supplies of shopping bags as well as food, toiletries and other basic needs. A diverse range of people come to shop in the free supermarket and then have a three-course lunch. Most stay for a meal cooked in the kitchen next to the communal dining area, to talk, drink real coffee, and feel the safety and calm around them. Sometimes Motown plays to set the mood although, if too loud, the tunes will echo through the large, cavernous space.
I walk back to Juz with two strong synthetic zip bags. In silence we pick up his items. His hands are covered with dirt, as are his clothes, the same clothes he wears on each of his fortnightly visits to Foodbank. I ask if he will stay for lunch? He says no. “I have to get back to my squat in the bush, I don’t want anyone stealing my stuff”. There is a hint of fear in his voice, his speech is flat, as is his face, he gazes a little beyond eye contact, appears wary of his surrounds, maybe beaten by forces beyond his, or my, control.
Then, as if woken from sleep, he looks me in the eye and quietly says thank-you with a slight smile, turns and leaves the big new building, purposefully walking to his small grey Yamaha motorbike. I watch as he secures the bags with threadbare Ocky straps. Juz will be back in a few weeks. He will check in under his given name, Justin, will collect five or six kilos of the same types of food, if they are available. Maybe one day he will stay for lunch.
