There are, I’m sure you know, days on which you’d rather not go to work or even get up at all. Today was mainly the latter and I had I not, finally, scrambled, bleary-eyed out of bed, I might not have gone to work. But ‘might not’ is doing an awful lot of heavy-lifting, there. There was no chance of me missing my food bank day. And what a day it was.
The first thing I did was to answer the door to the church AKA foodbank to a lovely couple who had loaded up the boot of their car with food and other necessities. The lady asked if we could help carry it from the car to our food bank. Of course I could and off I went to said car, where her husband was waiting for her. There was an enormous box of items and it was very clear they had gone to some considerable lengths to bring stuff that would be needed. She wished she’d been able to bring fresh food but she already knew we did not have fridges or a freezer. I walked her back to the car, thanked her profusely for their kind donation, explaining what a difference it would make to people’s lives and off they went. I wish I could have done something more to thank them, some form of recognition perhaps, but that, I suspect, was how I was feeling and not how they were feeling. Giving can be enough.
We were busier than last week but not as busy as the Christmas week, which meant that we were busy. At one point, we had an entire family of five in the hall; two adults and three children. I had no idea what had happened to bring them to us, but chatting very briefly I got the sense that a) they were a lovely family and b) the circumstances that led to their visit could have happened to many of us. That they were so grateful humbled me, as it does when anyone thanks us. I always remember to think of those wonderful people who drop off food and other items, like the couple did today, and I am accepting thanks on their behalf. I hope that you all realise when you donate that you are helping people get through the darkest of times.
It’s entirely possible some people might try it on. I have both a decent antenna and bullshit detector and I have not been aware of anyone doing that since I’ve been volunteering. And let’s be honest: you would have to be in a bad way if you set out to defraud what is literally the last chance saloon for eating. Even if someone did, I’d probably wish them well anyway. It’s not the crown jewels, is it?
We always get a few no shows. We’re never told why or what happened, even if the professional staff who organise the volunteers do know. I suppose I could ask, but all I can hope is that somehow, somewhere they got sorted out by someone else.
I read the other day that King Charles donated some fridges and freezers to food banks so they could accept, store and distribute fresh food items. Fair play and I won’t knock him for that. He’s dealing with the how it is and not the how he’s like things to be, but I do fear we are in danger of normalising food banks. I mean, they are quite common and of course essential but I do worry that if we turn it into some kind of slick, professional operation, people will see food banks as part of a normal society, when in fact food banks are the opposite of whatever you call a normal society.
One thing I hope and think we do is make the food bank experience not too unpleasant for those who come to see us. There is a fine line between being thoughtful, respectful and kind and being patronising. And I think about it all the time when I am working. Even an innocent “How are you?” could be a clunky question to ask, even if it’s meant in the nicest possible way. Today I was just about to tell a person will half a leg missing that hopefully he would be back standing on his own two feet soon, until I realised where I was going with that line of conversation. For someone like me, that requires immense concentration and when I get home, I’m knackered and I want to tell the world – well, my loyal reader – all about it.
Finally, the faces of the couple who brought their boxes of goodies are etched in my mind. I’m probably overthinking but I just saw a sweet kindness in their eyes, good people who just wanted to help others. Now that is normal. But when the lady said, just as they were about to drive off, “It’s such a shame we need places like this” I knew that she knew this wasn’t normal, too. If you donate something, I hope you feel that way too. Then, maybe write to your MP and tell her/him how you feel about it.
