RJ Freeman/Mama Becs: The Heart of a Village

Part 1:

“We’re a very insular society,” I tell people when they ask why I do what I do. “We have a community full of people falling over each other, wanting to help, but we only remember the same names. We’re barely scratching the surface.”

For me, sharing meals isn’t just about food - it’s about the stories. I’ve heard so many since I started. Like the person living in their car with their dog. It’s heartbreaking, but then you look closer, and you see that dog’s bowl is full. That tells you something - they’re putting their animal first, even when they have nothing.

I’ve met Kaumātua whose kids raid their fridges, and who are too proud to admit they’re struggling. I’ve seen people pass on help because they’ve seen someone else commenting and feel that they need it more. These quiet acts of generosity are everywhere if you take the time to look. It’s not just about poverty; it’s about people’s best sides shining through, even in tough times.

It started after my mum passed away in 2020. Mum brought me up to cook a lot, and I found myself with food left over which I started sharing. A bit later, I got sick. I couldn’t eat like everyone else anymore, but I could still cook. Cooking became my art. I create things I wish I could eat myself or meals that might tempt my Dad. It’s my way of staying connected, of giving back. There are challenges. Running a kitchen on my own isn’t easy. My health limits what I can do and when. Some days, I feel good at 3 a.m., so I get up and put in an hour of work. I don’t drive, which also makes collecting supplies and deliveries a hassle.

I dream of having a food truck or a prefab kitchen close by - something to make this easier. For now, it’s just me, one oven, and a fridge in my Dad’s home. I’m lucky to have volunteers who help with deliveries and collecting produce from community gardens. I couldn’t do this without them.

If I could have a soapbox moment, this would be it: Society underestimates single people, and single women over 50 are the fastest-growing group of homeless people in Australasia. It’s assumed we’ll just get by, but we’re often invisible. That’s why I make my meals in single portions as much as possible. If not for my privilege, it could have been me.

A friend once introduced me to her little boy in such a thoughtful way that it instantly made me feel like I belonged - like I had a role in the village. That moment meant the world to me. That’s all I’ve ever wanted: to be part of the village, keeping children fed and helping my community thrive. I hope the meals I make do more than fill stomachs. I hope they remind people they’re seen, valued, and never alone.

RJ Freeman