In the early 1990s my mother bought a share in Cascade Cohousing in Hobart. At that stage, the project was well under way but far from completed. They had already bought the land and some folks had begun construction. On this site, the land slopes down gently from the road, then more steeply towards the bottom. The view over Hobart is great and in the other direction the mountain looms high. The area is suburban and sits about twenty minutes from the centre of town by bike.
As a seventeen year old, I was fascinated by the building process and even earned money by the hour varnishing and painting houses. There was a period of intense activity as many builders, excavators, tradesmen, labourers, etc, worked to build what they sometimes disparagingly called 'chalets'. The common house took much longer and was built with a great deal of sweat equity. We all had a hand in digging foundations and trenches (I still remember jack hammering my hands to pieces over a pernicious boulder), laying bricks, hoisting timber framed roofs, painting, etc. While it was interesting up to a point, it was also long hard work. I think this aspect of the project could have been given to the professionals and saved the members a lot of stress. On the other hand, we did feel proud of ourselves for having finally completed it.
Gradually, the muddy mess of a site was transformed with paths and landscaping into a pleasant space. The lower half of the site kept all the trees (also gained a fort and swing). One by one, people moved in to their houses as they achieved 'lock up'. Life began at Cascade.
I lived there on and off for a period of four or five years. I ate at common meals two or three nights a week where I caught up with all the folks. (Shamefully, I was the first to forget my turn to cook and instead had to order pizza). Usually however, the cook takes the opportunity to create something delicious. Other neighbours and friends also regularly join in the common meals and roster themselves on. Quite often I would baby sit for the many young kids who lived there, help with moving furniture, or pick up some shopping on the way home for a neighbour. But mostly I remember getting a lot of help from other people. In particular I often borrowed cars (I didn't own one), or got driven about.
In time we established a chicken coop and six or so vege patches. These things are healthy and fun. These days, my kids love to pick veges and collect eggs when they visit grandma. They also love playing with the other kids their age who live there. These kids appear to be caring and self-reliant. I've seen a bunch of them at the bus-stop in the mornings, waiting for the bus that will take them to the interchange and how the older kids will make sure the younger ones make it to school. And in the afternoons, the working parents roster child care duty which helps enormously.
Of course, eventually I moved out to be inner-city and experience independent living. Occasionally, I'd go to common meals (still do!). Life goes on. These days I live in Sydney and feel that this approach to living would be really appropriate for the urban experience.
