From the silent observer

From the day Carevan Blacktown (Carevan B) was conceived, I knew its destiny and mine were bound to intersect. It therefore came as no surprise when Andrew sent for me.

With Lynne at the controls, I made the 650 kms journey from Albury to Sydney secure in the knowledge that a new era in Blacktown beckoned. It was never going to be uncharted waters and daunting, if only because I knew I would be in my element, doing what I love to do. Namely, helping to sow happiness into people’s lives, particularly the marginalised segment

of the Community facing existential crisis.

Old Lady Arrives in Sydney

I was born for this service. Squat in appearance with small feet relative to my size, I had a low centre of gravity and would negotiate sharp bends with full payload at no risk of toppling over. My costume was, by choice, Spartan: a military camouflaged raiment suited for trench warfare which is what our mission has been all about. To fight human misery,deprivation and even destitution.

I arrived at Carevan B in my dotage but, for my age, was sprightly and energetic till the end – thanks, in part, for the good care I received from Andrew and my other sons and daughters. They washed me when I was dirty and grimy. I never squeaked or creaked as others my age did. At the slightest hint of indisposition, I was sent to the Doctor’s for a check-up and treatment, when such was required.

But there is so much that Doctors can do. I progressively came out of my annual check-ups the poorer and poorer till, at last, I was pronounced unworthy of further annual leases of life. Consequently, in March 2019, I was retired and rode into the sunset.

Let it be noted that I am not dead yet, for, I have earned the stripes of virtual immortality. My obituary can wait.

Here, in my etheric abode, I am in a vantage position to see the panoramic trajectory of Carevan B – from where it burst on the horizon through the fledgling days to its present lusty state. Need I say my vista extends into the future which bodes well beyond what you can imagine. But I believe in the tyranny of the “now”.

I looked down from my eminence and see with joy indescribable how Carevan B has grown. When once we reached out to the needy from primarily 2 Departments that fed the hungry with meals, provisions and hampers, I now see loving care dispensed from multiple discrete Departments.

The original core Meals Department has itself metamorphosed into a grand structured unit under the superintendence of Kym with the gravitas that she possesses. She is ably assisted by the selfless and industrious Tracey, The team is rounded up by a bevy of dedicated volunteers who serve with radiant, unaffected smiles. They do justice to the adage he who gives with a smile gives twice.

A sidekick and offshoot to this Department is the Beverage and Refreshment corner which is primed to slake patrons’ thirst and assuage hunger for those who come in very hungry. That is, before they settle down and make the rounds.

Now, the Hamper. Closely allied with the Meals Department is the Hamper Department. I had a lot to do with this Department during my time of service.

Supermarkets and shopping centres to fetch vegetables, fruits, provisions and other comestibles which patrons take home to tide them over, at least, a week. For good reason, this was, and still is, a very popular Department attracting long (but orderly) queues and is now often the first port of call for many. As a hallmark of Carevan B, volunteers with rident faces ply their volunteering craft at the hamper tables and, latterly, also from a hamper van. Were I around, I would no doubt have had my sphere of activity broadened to cover trips to ozHarvest, Foodbank and other charity supply points.

Next, I also note with glee the maturation of a Department of Clothing, Books and Personal Care. Like elsewhere in the Carevan B system, a team of adorable volunteers are at work here – under the leadership of Kimbalee, Bee and Debbie. If you are looking for the most technologically-driven Department, this is it. Orders are received and discharged digitally from a computer Notebook – wielded by Bea, a sight to behold!

Not least, I see a kind-hearted lady, Lynne, ploughing a lone furrow in the Barbering Department. People now come to Carevan B meetings to, not only sup and dine, among other things, but also go home spruiked, if they so wish. In my active days, there was none of this.

I watched on, with more than a little interest, how diligently Carevan B slogged through the fog of Covid-19 pandemic to serve the community, if peripatetically. Senior volunteers and the executive team selflessly risked lives to put themselves out, so the pandemic couldn’t derail the organisation’s sworn purpose. For such intrepid response to Covid, more grease to your elbows, Andrew and all.

The one manifestly defining metric which speaks volumes for the great strides made by Carevan B is the size of weekly patronage which has soared from some 30-50 people to 100- odd and counting. I am also most delighted to see attendance hit its zenith at Christmas, time of goodwill, when close to a staggering figure of 300-plus people are catered for.

The positive change in fortunes is partly attributable to the yeoman charitable service provided by the organisation post Covid and which is still gathering momentum at the rate of knots.

Nothing in the above account touches on the imponderables of Carevan B services. Meetings provide a place of fun and solace not only for the lonely, but also for all those who stand to benefit from sharing live experiences, both quotidian and lifelong. Through friendly interactions, useful lessons are learnt and the more endowed in certain facets of life can point others in the right direction as a problem-solving tool. I have also seen that when patrons congregate there is collegiality, amity not rancour, camaraderie not idle gossip. There is none of people talking out of turn about others. Such is the culture fostered by the leaders of Carevan B who also set store by maintaining basic standards of social decorum.

Talk of plenitude of services, Carevan B has all bases covered. Although fully secular in orientation, there is now a feature on the Organisation’s menu for those who need recourse to otherworldly methods of handling the curveballs of life. Thanks to ”Reverend ” Bruce, the beneficiaries of this service (conducted unobtrusively) render rave reviews about the life changing results of instructions received. For the record, Bruce’s ecclesiastic persona have him as the natural choice that plays Santa to the little faithful ones, come yuletide.

There is one thing I sorely miss. The frequent sorties to fund-raising events which invariably featured BBQ sessions. I am gladdened to see how volunteers now go about the task with mirth and jollity while helping to raise money to support a charitable cause. There is music and, I dare say, graceful dancing to beguile the time. Never a dull moment for the hard- working cast of volunteers that run the show, Fundraising may be fun but it is also a way to engage the community in the mission to rout misery and helplessness from its midst. Carevan B has gained traction in this regard. Now, to some credits.

The progress made by Carevan B wouldn’t be possible without the vision and leadership qualities of my son, CEO and founder, Andrew Scott. He is duly assisted by a lady whose attributes complement all that Carevan B stands for. Lady Caroline, my daughter.

There must be something in the executive echelons of the Red Cross. If there are two people in whom the virtues of sheer altruism and sound organisational nous unite with great effect, look not beyond Andrew and Caroline. They are an embodiment of, at once, self-denial and empathy. Souls who give their days and nights to a mission of selfless, self-forgetting service to humanity. They should be added to the Twelve.

I also wish to acknowledge the support provided to Carevan B by a motley array of corporate financiers, the local government, institutional and individual donors (of $$ and in kind), and, needless to say, a phalanx of volunteers drawn from all walks of life.

For lack of space and time, I must have inadvertently skated over names of conscientious and dedicated volunteering hands who deserve specific mention. I beg for forgiveness and pray that such ones take no umbrage at the omission. In the ripeness of time, I would get to them.

l have a small request to make. I came to Blacktown as a simple Old Lady, not exactly frumpish, but dressed in military camouflaged costume, in sharp contrast with the glitz and glamour of city life. My quaint appearance turned heads aiding the cause of advertising Carevan B. I do not wish to lose this attribute of simplicity. So, if a century and half from now, I and other icons in the City are given a permanent repose in a museum, I hereby write in my testament that I be dressed and presented, not in resplendent apparel, but in something after my old military fatigues. Emblazoned on my festoon should be the words

“Here stands a warrior who saw human suffering and helped to fight it”.

Finally, to my son Andrew. Few days after hoisting the Union Jack at the South Pole, Captain Scott, your forebear, penned this last line in his diary: “…for God’s sake, look after our people.” I fashion an allusion to seek that “For God’s sake, continue to look after your Community”. Goodbye, one and all.

Anonymous.