He peers into the mirror, noticing dark patches, two days growth. He digs out sleep from the corners of his eyes; turns, walks away. Leaving dull eyes reflecting.
The sun is setting, blood red. A mother stands dried eyed at a mound. Dry crumbs are plucked by the wind. She shifts a baby in her arms and reaches out for her husband’s hand, but he lies next to their son.
Inside four walls he spoons dark brown granules into a mug. The kettle hisses, boiling water turns the granules dirty black. He squints at the sun, pouring through the windows, picks up the paper and walks off into the shadows of the lounge. He picks his way through the supplements to the sport pages.
Bare foot a young boy dribbles a stone, he splashes through an open drain and runs pass her. He brings a smile to her face. She remembers the farm, her husband playing with their son. She remembers picking and packing the beans. She remembers his face before and after market, the small pile of notes. ‘There would be more money in the city’. He wasn’t wrong, but not here.
He shakes out his paper and glances at a photo of a father. He skims the article,
wife, child, dead. He catches the advert out of the corner of his eye. Electrically multi-adjustable heated front seats.
Prices too low, farm abandoned, community lost. Finance packages available, £169.99 a month.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
He sips his coffee, alone. He thinks about the car. He’s not talked to anyone all weekend. He thinks about his 5am start tomorrow. He thinks again about the car.
She wishes they had not left. He wishes they had not abandoned hope. Family, friends, smiles, laughter, gone. She, he, lie alone under corrugated sheets.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price.. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price.. Luxury comes as standard.
A fairer price. Luxury comes as standard.
This story first appeared at
Guerrilla Midgie Publishing due to a comment from Cally regarding posting a story. These are the words that came along. Guerrilla Midgie Publishing's aim is to publish work which advocates for and on behalf of those whose voices are otherwise unheard and/or social issues which we feel are important to put in the public domain. Currently they are posting about Fairtrade Fortnight and a different product a day and are asking for stories about those Fairtrade products.
Turning nowhere into somewhere
Whilst I feel a lot is improving for the producers since I first became aware of Fairtrade (2003) I feel there is still a long way to go. It is time to acknowledge what we as a western society are destroying due to our disconnection in the west with what we eat and drink and our sense of community. There has been a drive for faster, cheaper and more productivity for a long time now which has led to great inequalities and disconnection within the world and individual societies. Whilst there is no doubt that Fairtrade helps the producers, there is also a lot that we as a western society can relearn about what community means and what the true cost is for produce via engaging with Fairtrade. This has to go far beyond a fortnight and become part of our everyday lives.