I don’t write much about my heroic life as a food bank volunteer these days. I have done it to death on here, to be honest, and after a while it’s likely that you will end up repeating yourself. I know I did. I’m not a hero, either. Just one of many people up and down the land who don’t work anymore and want to give a little bit back to the society to which I belong. And after three and a bit years, I still enjoy my volunteering as much as I ever did, maybe even more so.
I hadn’t realised how judgemental I had become, making assumptions about people that had no relation with reality. That in itself has made me a better person. Yesterday morning, I was reminded just how much I have changed.
As well as our afternoon food bank sessions, volunteers are asked to take part in twice a year collections at a local supermarket, encouraging customers to donate food and toiletries. Obviously, the one we did yesterday was for Christmas.
Donations are down across food banks everywhere and ours, here in Melchester, is no different. I will not reveal the supermarket concerned but in terms of donations, every little helps.
We stood inside the store handing out leaflets and hopefully the customers would buy an item or two in addition to their own shopping and donate it to us on the way out of the shop. Many did. Many didn’t and this is where I have changed.
When I started off helping with the collections, I was disappointed when people walked by, avoiding eye contact or even bluntly saying, “no thanks.” I’d think, I’m only asking for you to spend a few bob on a tin of something. How tight can you get? In more recent times, I have not felt like that.
My change of perspective came about as a result of a rare bout of common sense on my part. If someone was choosing not to donate something, who the hell was I to start making assumptions? I knew nothing about their lives. Many people will only have had enough money to buy their own food and have nothing left after shopping. We do not know if the reason people don’t give to us is because they already donate to other charities. For all I know, they may have terrible problem in their lives, suffering a bereavement, perhaps, or are suffering from a serious illness. I can’t know any of this, but it’s all entirely possible. How thick was I, blindly assuming some people didn’t give a toss about food poverty? So, now I consciously treat everyone who passes by our collections the same, whether they choose to donate or not donate.
The more I thought about it, the bigger the twat I had become. Once I had acknowledged the stupidity of my ways, the better I felt about myself.
Having had my revelation, I just concentrated on the good people I saw. An Asian man came up to us with a gift card for £20 he had just paid for, insisting that the money be spent on women’s sanitary products. I have no idea if there was a story behind this and frankly I didn’t care. Someone handed me a couple of tins of soup, saying, “It’s all I can afford.” All I could do was thank him profusely and that his kindness and generosity meant that someone would now have a meal they would not otherwise would have had. I hope he felt proud of himself. He should do.
After the collection, it was off to the food bank to see the people who would benefit. Having seen the process from both sides now, it’s incredible to see how it all works, albeit totally depressing that we have got to do it at all. I was the middle man yesterday, or rather one of a number of middle men and middle women, who did what little we could to end food poverty.
Only last week, a guy turned up on behalf of two people he was supporting who were literally starving. 21st century Bristol and people were starving. We usually require an official referral from a partner organisation to help someone, but last week we broke the policy because we basically had to. It was near the end of the session and we had very little stuff left, but somehow we cobbled together a small parcel. It left me both happy that we had been able to help, but sad that we have got to this stage.
I left yesterday after what was close to being a full day’s work and I was knackered, a combination of hard work and imminent old age, I fear. My brain was far more tired than my body.
The people who come to see us, they’re our friends if only for a short while. So too are the people who donated what they could at our appeal. I still think there are far more good people than bad, but there are also a lot of people don’t care about food poverty and others who believe there is no such thing. I can’t help them, I’m afraid. I can only do what I do and if people think that way, I can tell them that actually food poverty is very real but if they don’t listen, don’t care or don’t believe me, I’ll just carry on.
If you can help your local food bank this Christmas, and at any other time of the year, then please do so. It’s not life or death stuff just yet, but sometimes it feels like it.
