HUMAN WASTE

New Zealand Herald, Volume LXXIII, Issue 22344, 15 February 1936, Page 1 (Supplement)

HUMAN WASTE

BY ANOX

"A GOOD MAN SPOILED"

The loss of his farm was at first a terrible blow, not only to his material prospects but also to his self-respect. It is hard for a young man who has worked well and intelligently to have to admit failure. His story was but that of a hundred others —difficult land, lack of capital, slump conditions. In this case it was all complicated by the existence of a delicate wife and two small children and by the fact that an injury to one hand, while not interfering with hard manual labour, made milking a herd impossible. Nevertheless, he imagined that he would be able to obtain and hold a job, for he was an excellent workman, an experienced bushman and fencer, tireless and intelligent. It was a second blow when his hopeful advertisement, inserted when he realised that his mortgagee would prove obdurate, brought no suitable replies. "The trouble is that no one's doing fencing or bush-felling, because they can't afford wire or grass seed," they told him. "It's only milkers that are wanted." For this was in the early years of the slump, when conditions upon sheep farms were at their worst and no labour was employed. Upon the months that followed he never afterwards allowed himself to look back; yet their shadow followed him always, and it was from this time that he began to walk in fear. For six months he lived by doing odd jobs and upon the small proceeds of his stock sale; at the end of that time he gave up the struggle and registered with the unemployed. - This was a sore blow to his pride; he hated the thought of ranking himself among those whom lie had always regarded as the failures of life; he was deeply hurt to think that his work, which he knew to be the best he could give, was not wanted; he bitterly resented the probing questions that he must answer before taking even this humiliating step. But there was no help for it. For himself he would have worked for a few shillings and his keep, but he must provide a home for his family. Therefore he became "an unemployed," defensively telling himself and his wife that he would "get out of that' sort of thing" as soon as ever a chance offered. Humiliations

But the chance did not come, and for two years he lived in a country town, finding some comfort that his work was not the chipping of weeds from city paths, but hard manual labour in the country, whither he and his mates were taken daily by lorry. The other men laughed at the energy with which he attacked his draining and gorse-cutting. "You'll soon get ov£r that," they told him. "What's the point? They don't think any the more of you, and the wages are the same to every man." "A job's a "job," he would say shortly, while all the time his thoughts turned longingly to the life he had known, the farm he had made with so much hope and lost with such despair, the clean, hard living of the backblocks. There was, unfortunately, plenty of time to think in this strange, unnatural life —long, dreary days, sometimes three a week, on which he must "stand down," loaf about the town, long for the work for which he had been trained, the only work which he was capable of doing well. Many of the relief workers found odd jobs, cutting lawns, trimming hedges, but he could not bring himself to ask for work that he felt was bestowed half in charity.

Therefore, when at last a chance came to go back to the country, he seized it eagerly; the work, too, was what he liked and did so excellently—a fencing contract on steep, difficult country with a cottage provided. Now the ex-farmer was in his element again, working twelve strenuous hours a day, giving the very best of himself to his job. He put it through in record time, and then the shock came; for he found he had done himself no good by working so hard; on the contrary, he had to "stand down" until sufficient time had elapsed to make his wages average some eight or ten shillings a day. This, since the loss of his farm, was the heaviest blow his dwindling self-respect had received. They didn't want a good worker; any loafer would have served as well. Deterioration Therefore he presently sought no more contracts, but drifted back to relief work 011 the roads, and, to his wife's amazement, received quite thankfully the gifts of boots and blankets that were that winter doled out to the unemploj'ed. He met her questioning glance sullenly. "Why not? We might as well get all we can. The other chaps do." Presently, as times improved a little and his work became known, he was able to supplement his meagre earnings by working odd days for the farmers about. Soon his" reputation spread, and every day of his spare time was filled. Still ho continued with his road work, although his mates had 110 longer any reason to complain of his excessive energy. His energy was all kept for the work he did on his "off" days; here he was still honest and strenuous, so that his supply of extra work never failed. Now he was able to save, to watch with amazement and a sort of terrified fascination the growth of a hoard that would protect him and his family in a crisis. With a sum of fifty pounds in the house, ho still accepted all the charity that was going. Presently, when hard times seemed at last over, he received several offers of permanent -work. These he refused because they would necessitate his leaving the ranks of the unemployed. His eyes no longer saw far horizons and hopeful endeavour; they were fixed upon the hoard of easily-earned wages, which ho had once taken with such humiliation. "If I givo this up," he told his wife, "I'll never make so much on a permanent job. Wages are going up; I make £2 12s a week on the road and a good £2 in other jobs. Besides, the unemployment work's easy and safe. Only a fool would leave it for a job where he had to work six days a week hard." Contentment At the end of two years, by dire economies and by working in all weathers for the farmers round, he had saved nearly a hundred pounds. "It's, almost enough to go on a little place of our own," his wife said wistfully, but 110 laughed at the idea. "A hundred pounds is a drop in the ocean on a farm," 110 said, very truly. When the offer came, therefore, it took him by surprise; he had almost forgotten the little farm, 'savo to use it as an example of man's folly; the name of his mortgagee at the bottom of the letter called up 110 memories for a moment. It was his wife who spoke first.

"Ho wants you to come back," she said softly. "He's found out his mistake and the farm's going back. He says he'll financo you. Now at last we can have something of'our own again and you can work for yourself." But he looked at her with dull eyes, apathetic eyes, patient, a little cunning. "Go back?" ho said scornfully. "Leave the road-work when it'll easy last me another twelve-month? No fear. We're doing well here. I'll stick to it as long as it sticks to me. It's not a bad life —and it's safe."