Do you know what its like to lose the family farm after its been in your family for one hundred and fifty years he said? Do you know what it feels like to be the generation the man. The family to lose what your father, your fathers father and father before that worked so hard for?
Do you know what its like to have tried your damnedest and still fail because farming isn’t valued enough and nobody wants to pay an extra 15 cents for the product you have work so hard for and yet they don’t even blink at the idea of paying extra for an overseas named brand t-shirt thats made in India no less?
I looked at him. I was holding the gate to the fence where his cattle had escaped and wandered out.
No I don’t I said. Nothing else was said and we went on to talk about how much he loved his cattle having changed from Brahman to Wagu hoping he could save himself.
I handed the flimsy wired gate back to him and continued walking his words striking me but not affecting me enough to consider it further until this past weekend and I had coffee with my friend Mel.
‘Deb you are serving me Woolies milk?’ she said.
‘Yeah’ I said why completely forgetting she is a dairy farmers wife. I forgot because she is a photographer, the wife of a dairy farmer and of a FIFO worker. Her husband has had to leave the farm to work in a mine four hours away because the price of milk has plummeted and they can’t sell off a farm that makes no money.
I tried to justify myself by saying that I go through 12 litres of milk a week and that’s on a good week.
“If you brought my milk it would be better for you its full cream not watered down and the boys would drink less” she said.
I rebutted with a laugh no they wouldn’t it would just cost me more money. She stayed silent and said no more because what is the point when fighting about the almighty dollar.
It wasn’t until she left that I stopped and thought about my local farmers to which there are many living around me being a rural area.Many have progressed into business as they need to trying to stay afloat and diversify. Some have succeeded and yet some have closed their doors and have started to sell off their land. As a result surrounding towns have gone quiet farming supply stores surviving just on hobby farmers coming in from the city to get a slice of what could be.
And it was a gut wrenching penny dropping that I realised the course of my actions my trying to save some bucks will indeed have attributed whilst not totally but the mind-set of those farmers closing. It occuered what a slap in the face it would be to the likes of farmer John and my friend Mel to not to even batter my lids at paying additional for a ‘good quality shirt’ that’s made in India yet not justify to pay additional for something that will stay here support my neighbour an and Australian business.
With the knowing of every door closing I have always thought oh how sad but the reality is that s someone’s livelihood someones heritage gone but I thought no more of it then.
Yet today I thought back to Mel and how tired she looked, how tired farmer John looked my neighbours my fellow Australians and so I made a decision this weekend to try to buy more Australian made and less imports where I can. I am not being unrealistic about it but the very idea that if I switch to paying an additional $1.00 for a bottle of milk might keep my friend Mel in business then I will. If it means paying 30 cents extra for tomatoes I will. Realistically I can’t buy all Australian made and I can’t make promises but I can do more than I am now.
So if I can change my mind if can change it just a little we might just save another Australian farming business going out of business and the flow on effect from that is priceless.
Do you buy much Australian made are you a conscious shopper?
xx Deb
