By late morning, Howard Street has succumbed to a surge of dense rainfall. While grey haze descends and local storefronts seal up to ward off the deluge, the doors of one building stretch wide to welcome Nambour’s damp passers-by.
Coated in an unassuming white, Suncoast Care should be low-key and easily overlooked. Instead, the low-cost food outlet pulses with activity. Customers shake out their umbrellas and windbreakers on the entry mat before roaming into the warm commotion of the building.
To the left, regulars chat at quiet tables and thaw out with mugs of coffee, fresh from the in-store café. To the right, the sprawling grocery aisles overpopulate, and checkout queues stretch. For many customers, the weekly shop and community catch-up are underway before lunchtime.
But among the cacophony of the spacious store, a pattern emerges. Most men and women who pass through the open doors are sodden with more than just rain. Marked by dishevelled clothes and forlorn expressions, it’s clear these people come from disadvantaged backgrounds.
While the organisation embraces this community, the distinct lack of customers with financial stability could thwart the expansion of Suncoast Care and other food relief services.