We live in a creative little village called Observatory. Now, Obs is
very special to me. I lived here after varsity, while I worked in a
hospital and old age home nearby. Once I'd ruled out journalism, nursing
and frail care, I was lost. Not knowing what to do further, at the age
of 21 - I did nothing. In Obs, for almost a year -seven years ago. I wrote and waitressed and made friends, but mostly... I did nothing. Best year of my life really.
This village is home to ad agencies, design schools, Grootte Schuur Hospital, publishing houses, a film school, backpackers, res', restaurants and coffee shops. The residents are mostly creatives, young families, students, medical professionals, foreigners, exchange students and so forth.
The village is also home to Cape Mental Health Society, several drug rehab centers, homeless shelters, feeding projects and bottle stores.
There are a lot of crazies and a lot of homeless people here. There is petty crime and there are hipster jols. Observatory is very unassuming in it's appeal. It's bohemian, trendy, dodgy, beautiful and creative - all in the same sentence.
Something that I've mentioned before is the surplus of homeless men here. Most I recognize from seven years ago. Some I've helped and gotten to know. Colin is known to stop by for a take-away coffee or a breakfast roll on the weekend. He's this tall bearded, elderly white man that is always wrapped in a large red duvet. He hangs out outside the bookshop most days. He (really) loves coffee. I get him some comforts and basics sometimes. He's quite a grumpy dude, always seems like he's cooling off from an argument with his wife or something, you know?
But Colin doesn't have a wife. Or a place to live. Or family. Or friends. I want to know why, but I don't know how to ask him. I see the other guys (other elderly homeless regulars here) try sit by him or talk to him. When I walk past again ten minutes later, he's moved away. He's a loner, and grumpy. He's almost hollow. I would guess his age at sixty or older. Maybe seventy.
I don't really talk about personal 'charity' things that I do, but by putting this out there I hope to encourage others to do the same this winter, this year, this lifetime.
On Saturday morning it was really cold here. At about ten am I started making soup. I made two pots of beef, bean, vegetable and onion soup. I dished it up in to paper cups with lids. Noah was very curious (always in the kitchen with me) and I explained that we were making food for friends that "Don't have a house or a mommy" and went on to explain the situation to him. He said he wanted to help, so I gave him left over stock powder and 'their' macaroni and he made some soup too. I keep a container of old pastas in the kitchen for when I cook, as the boys insist on helping. Keeps them occupied, try it! Sometimes I just give them some flour and water in cups. They love mixing them together and figuring out consistencies. Noah and I chatted a lot about life (well, as much as you can with a three year old), being grateful, helpful and caring about others.
I walked around Lower Main to get bread and handed warm soup to a few regulars. Some that I recognized and others not. Colin grumbled at me, but tucked straight in. I had a few portions left, so we drove around the area and found other people toward Salt River. I met different men that had dogs with them, so that set their tails wagging too. It was good that Noah was with us then. It's good for him to feel involved in any kind of community upliftment.
I left the area feeling that I hadn't really done enough or made a real difference. I told Noah that we'll make soup for the 'people' every week, so we're taking small steps for the time being.
Most of us pass people in need on a daily basis. Graeme likes to remind me that I can't 'save' everyone, but it's a good idea to to keep plastic cups with lids at home. You could just scoop left overs in to them and take them on your route to work. On rubbish collection day, if you drive past townhouses / cluster homes -you'll see someone digging in the bins for scraps. Stop your car and give them a meal, an old blanket, a jersey. A something. If you don't already.
I didn't want any pictures of these men or their situations on my blog. I do respect their privacy and pride in their personal situations. Here are a few of Noah and I making soup, and the packaging we used. I packed the cups in to a crate then placed sliced bread on top for easy distribution.
This village is home to ad agencies, design schools, Grootte Schuur Hospital, publishing houses, a film school, backpackers, res', restaurants and coffee shops. The residents are mostly creatives, young families, students, medical professionals, foreigners, exchange students and so forth.
The village is also home to Cape Mental Health Society, several drug rehab centers, homeless shelters, feeding projects and bottle stores.
There are a lot of crazies and a lot of homeless people here. There is petty crime and there are hipster jols. Observatory is very unassuming in it's appeal. It's bohemian, trendy, dodgy, beautiful and creative - all in the same sentence.
Something that I've mentioned before is the surplus of homeless men here. Most I recognize from seven years ago. Some I've helped and gotten to know. Colin is known to stop by for a take-away coffee or a breakfast roll on the weekend. He's this tall bearded, elderly white man that is always wrapped in a large red duvet. He hangs out outside the bookshop most days. He (really) loves coffee. I get him some comforts and basics sometimes. He's quite a grumpy dude, always seems like he's cooling off from an argument with his wife or something, you know?
But Colin doesn't have a wife. Or a place to live. Or family. Or friends. I want to know why, but I don't know how to ask him. I see the other guys (other elderly homeless regulars here) try sit by him or talk to him. When I walk past again ten minutes later, he's moved away. He's a loner, and grumpy. He's almost hollow. I would guess his age at sixty or older. Maybe seventy.
I don't really talk about personal 'charity' things that I do, but by putting this out there I hope to encourage others to do the same this winter, this year, this lifetime.
On Saturday morning it was really cold here. At about ten am I started making soup. I made two pots of beef, bean, vegetable and onion soup. I dished it up in to paper cups with lids. Noah was very curious (always in the kitchen with me) and I explained that we were making food for friends that "Don't have a house or a mommy" and went on to explain the situation to him. He said he wanted to help, so I gave him left over stock powder and 'their' macaroni and he made some soup too. I keep a container of old pastas in the kitchen for when I cook, as the boys insist on helping. Keeps them occupied, try it! Sometimes I just give them some flour and water in cups. They love mixing them together and figuring out consistencies. Noah and I chatted a lot about life (well, as much as you can with a three year old), being grateful, helpful and caring about others.
I walked around Lower Main to get bread and handed warm soup to a few regulars. Some that I recognized and others not. Colin grumbled at me, but tucked straight in. I had a few portions left, so we drove around the area and found other people toward Salt River. I met different men that had dogs with them, so that set their tails wagging too. It was good that Noah was with us then. It's good for him to feel involved in any kind of community upliftment.
I left the area feeling that I hadn't really done enough or made a real difference. I told Noah that we'll make soup for the 'people' every week, so we're taking small steps for the time being.
Most of us pass people in need on a daily basis. Graeme likes to remind me that I can't 'save' everyone, but it's a good idea to to keep plastic cups with lids at home. You could just scoop left overs in to them and take them on your route to work. On rubbish collection day, if you drive past townhouses / cluster homes -you'll see someone digging in the bins for scraps. Stop your car and give them a meal, an old blanket, a jersey. A something. If you don't already.
I didn't want any pictures of these men or their situations on my blog. I do respect their privacy and pride in their personal situations. Here are a few of Noah and I making soup, and the packaging we used. I packed the cups in to a crate then placed sliced bread on top for easy distribution.
