UPDATE: Despite restrictions on cafes, the Mill Cafe is still serving takeaway meals and coffee.
A Queanbeyan café is serving more than coffee and lunch while the coronavirus pandemic intensifies. April and Mo Hbaika at the Mill Café and their family are helping some of the town's most vulnerable people get the food and supplies they need.
"We thought we had to do something," April said. "We have a lot of older customers, families, mums. They were all saying how awful it was they couldn't source things to cook for their families. We thought this is ridiculous; we're in a position where we can help."
Through their bulk suppliers, the family was able to order 10 kg boxes of pasta, flour, and the "precious, precious!" toilet paper. On Facebook, they invited seniors and people with disabilities to collect the items.
"We're mimicking Coles and Woolies, I guess," April said, referring to the supermarkets' early morning hour dedicated for the elderly and disabled. Because some senior citizens cannot make it to the supermarkets so early, this gives them another option.
The Mill Café is also selling cheap but nutritious takeaway meals: a different choice each night, including carbonara and lentil and chickpea curry so far. "It's nothing fancy," April said, "but at least they don't have to stress about going to the supermarket in the afternoon and just being frustrated." The $5 price covers the family's costs.
The idea started, April explained, because one of her good customers couldn't do her usual shop before work; by the time she finished at 6pm, there was nothing left for her family to eat. The supermarket shelves are nearly empty, April said; when she went the other day, all she found were two frozen lasagnas.
"There was nothing else," April said. "This is not good. It's getting to the stage where people were trying to buy all the two-minute noodles and soup. There's really nothing left."
April said she was shocked by the amount of positive feedback their Facebook post received. It was shared more than 100 times, and received nearly 60 glowing comments. "This melts my heart," said one. "People will remember your support long after Corona is relegated to history," read another; "restoring faith in humanity, one person at a time."
The takeaway meals will still be sold under the coronavirus restrictions on cafes, the Mill announced on Monday morning.
And locals came in droves to give their assistance. Some donated food: small packets of cereal, long-life milk, tinned fish. One man came down with a three-pack of soap. "Even though it doesn't seem like much, it really does help those people who don't have anything," April said. Others donated money so the family could buy more supplies.
Those donations made up eight bags of groceries that Meals on Wheels will take out to the most vulnerable. Other Facebook users have offered to deliver some of the half kilo bags of food April and her family packaged themselves. (Meals on Wheels can only deliver prepackaged, unopened food.)
April thanked the public for their generosity, and encouraged people to continue donations`- even if just cans of soup or packets of pasta.
"This is ongoing, and we will accept donations of anything that people can spare," she said. "We're in a capacity to order some things, but we don't even know if we will be limited in the near future. We don't have an endless supply, and neither do our suppliers.
"We're also open to any suggestions the community has about what we can do," April said.
The Mill Café is at 57 Collett Street, Queanbeyan, open Tuesday to Friday 7-3, weekends 7-2. Call 0431 034 329; email themillcafeqbn@gmail.com; or Facebook https://www.facebook.com/pg/themillqbn.
Nicholas Fuller
The exciting thing about journalism is the variety; one can explore the world, meet interesting people and write about it. I've sat in the caravan of an African circus ringmaster; I've squatted on my haunches in a plastic-sorting factory in the Mumbai slums, talking to the workers and drinking hot chai in plastic cups the size of thimbles; and I've interviewed Chinese cultural attachés, Danish football stars and Japanese drummers. Now I’ve come to the Northern Tablelands as a group journalist working across six of Fairfax’s mastheads. Living in New England is a return to country. My father’s side of the family lived here since the 19th century. My great-great-grandparents are buried in Ben Lomond. My great-grandmother and grandmother spent most of their lives in and around Glencoe and Glen Innes, and are both buried in Tamworth. My grandfather isn’t; his ashes are in a cupboard until we throw them in the Macdonald, near Bendemeer, where he used to fish. And my father cut his teeth as a cadet journalist on the Northern Daily Leader, before moving to Canberra, and studied history at UNE. Moving here is following in the family footsteps. Armidale seems charming: up here, in Australia’s highest city, one feels close to the sky. And the mixture of 1830s historic buildings; green, rain-washed hills, crowned with conifers; and one of the country’s leading universities give it a unique appeal. I completed my journalism qualifications last year, while freelancing for newspapers and magazines, and holding down a full-time job. I spent the end of last year in Sri Lanka, where I reported on visiting Buddhist dignitaries (from exotic Perth), UN development programs, Italian food weeks, and hotels in former war-zones. Previously, I worked as a writer and editor for the Australian Government in Canberra for a decade. In my day job, I briefed members of parliament about international relations, and wrote about agricultural aid programs to developing countries. Journalism, though, is where my heart lies. I want to experience life, rather than sit behind a desk. And, having grown up in Belgium, I want to be Tintin. I hope to get to know and love the region where my ancestors lived, while reporting on issues important to the Tablelands.
The exciting thing about journalism is the variety; one can explore the world, meet interesting people and write about it. I've sat in the caravan of an African circus ringmaster; I've squatted on my haunches in a plastic-sorting factory in the Mumbai slums, talking to the workers and drinking hot chai in plastic cups the size of thimbles; and I've interviewed Chinese cultural attachés, Danish football stars and Japanese drummers. Now I’ve come to the Northern Tablelands as a group journalist working across six of Fairfax’s mastheads. Living in New England is a return to country. My father’s side of the family lived here since the 19th century. My great-great-grandparents are buried in Ben Lomond. My great-grandmother and grandmother spent most of their lives in and around Glencoe and Glen Innes, and are both buried in Tamworth. My grandfather isn’t; his ashes are in a cupboard until we throw them in the Macdonald, near Bendemeer, where he used to fish. And my father cut his teeth as a cadet journalist on the Northern Daily Leader, before moving to Canberra, and studied history at UNE. Moving here is following in the family footsteps. Armidale seems charming: up here, in Australia’s highest city, one feels close to the sky. And the mixture of 1830s historic buildings; green, rain-washed hills, crowned with conifers; and one of the country’s leading universities give it a unique appeal. I completed my journalism qualifications last year, while freelancing for newspapers and magazines, and holding down a full-time job. I spent the end of last year in Sri Lanka, where I reported on visiting Buddhist dignitaries (from exotic Perth), UN development programs, Italian food weeks, and hotels in former war-zones. Previously, I worked as a writer and editor for the Australian Government in Canberra for a decade. In my day job, I briefed members of parliament about international relations, and wrote about agricultural aid programs to developing countries. Journalism, though, is where my heart lies. I want to experience life, rather than sit behind a desk. And, having grown up in Belgium, I want to be Tintin. I hope to get to know and love the region where my ancestors lived, while reporting on issues important to the Tablelands.
