Chapter Thirty-Four: Feathers In Her Hair (~jinghan)

26th July 2011

I’m wandering around like a lost soul outside Melbourne University because I am supposed to be meeting some people in a vague location.

“Hi, do you have a moment?” It’s a girl looking for people to subscribe as donors to the Save the Children.

Usually I stop to talk to the people who are doing this sort of work because I like getting to know what different organisations are out doing in the world, and usually I’m too young to meet their minimum donor age of 21. Or maybe I’m only so bold to stop and talk to them because I know I won’t meet their minimum donor age…

But I have to run away to my meeting, so I smile apologetically at the girl.

“If you have time later, stop by and have a chat with me!” she calls after me cheerfully.

When I run into the same girl again as I’m leaving uni, I of course was obliged to stop and say hi. I have to say I was a little bit disappointed that she did not seem to recognise me. But then again maybe she’s seen a lot of people today and I was just one of the nameless ones who didn’t stop.

The conversation of course tends to this questions, “do I have to be over 21 to donate?”

The answer is not what I expected though: “Actually, no you don’t, but we do have a policy that you can only donate a maximum of $20 a month.”

The tables have turned and I find myself on new territory. Do I do a smile and dash? “I love what you’re organisation is doing, but I’m really sorry because I don’t really have an income at the moment,” is my first instinct. But I’m stopped in this train of thought by the fact that I actually do have a decent stash of money at the moment that will be funding my exchange trip.

I’m doing the maths in my head as I continue the conversation. With the amount of money I have in my savings account I have about $20 interest every month so I could afford to make something like a $5 or even $10 donation monthly while still having some for myself…

“You know I think I might actually think about this. Is there a minimum monthly donation?”

“Yes, $20.”

Oh…? “Didn’t you say the maximum donation for someone under 21 was $20?”

“Uh, yes. It’s also the minimum.”

Oh. “Um can I take a form and think about this before signing up?”

“Well actually we can’t give you a form. And we sort of like people to sign up on the spot because otherwise plenty of people would procrastinate their way out of it. You know how that is.” She laughs.

I laugh too. It’s totally true. I want to say “unfortunately I’m the sort of person who lets all sorts of obligations chain down my heart and can’t forget things I’ve promised that easily,” but I don’t because it sounds like an excuse.

And while I’m thinking this, I notice that the girl has feathers in her hair. They’re cleverly attached so that they seem to grow from her head among her bright red untamed hair as if she were some half-bird spirit. Maybe it’s this or maybe it’s something else but I find myself saying: “Ah, what the heck, I’ll do it.”

The girl smiles and asks me various details as she fills in the form. “What’s your birth date?”

“July 18th 1991”

“Oh wow, it’s your birthday soon isn’t it… no wait! It’s just been your birthday! Happy birthday.”

I walk away with my copy of the subscription form, I’m feeling proud of myself and thinking: “thankyou for the birthday present.”