July 14, 2006
The miracle of the
cereal box
Food bank struggles
to acquire food that people are willing to eat
ARTHUR
JOHNSON
Jen
Hayward of the Nunavut Food Bank says boxed cereals such as these are the most
popular items sought by food bank clients. (PHOTO BY JOHN THOMPSON)
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The men and women who shuffle
into a modest, flat-roofed yellow building near the Legion every second Saturday
are poor, hungry and craving breakfast cereal.
That craving is a big problem
for the people who run the food bank, which shares the building with Iqaluit's
soup kitchen.
A 452-gram box of cereal
costs as much as $10 at Northmart or Arctic Ventures, far beyond the resources
of the working poor, and so expensive that even bulk purchases put a big dent
in the food bank's annual budget.
But breakfast cereal is
so much in demand that food bank volunteers make extraordinary efforts to get
their hands on as much of it as they can beg or buy. It's never enough.
"We could probably
purchase twice as much canned protein - tuna or meat - for the same amount of
money we spend on boxed cereal," says Jen Hayward, the food bank's secretary.
Hard-headed economists
might argue forcefully that every dollar and ounce of effort should be made
to yield as much nutrition as possible when it comes to feeding the poor, but
thankfully, hard-headed economists don't run food banks.
Hayward and her band of
volunteers know that it's important to provide food that people actually want
to eat. They also know that some of Iqaluit's poorest people have no stoves,
refrigerators or other facilities to prepare meals and that the easier they
make it for people to eat, the more likely it is that bellies will actually
get filled.
"One box of cereal
can make a meal for a family of four or five people," says Hayward.
It is, moreover, every
bit as popular with adults as it is with kids. "We get single people all
the time requesting cereal," she says.
Much easier to provide
are three of the four ingredients of bannock - flour, baking powder and salt.
What stumps food bank volunteers is scrounging or buying the all-important fourth
ingredient - lard or shortening. That costs $5 or more a pound, and there is
never, ever enough to go around.
The food bank, however,
has beans and lentils in abundance. The problem is, almost no one wants them.
They're an excellent source of protein, dietary fibre, folic acid and other
good things, but not many people know how to make them into tasty dishes, or
if they do, they don't have a kitchen to cook in.
Hayward thinks it would
be a great idea to have a nutritionist or other qualified person to prepare
recipes for healthy meals, which might encourage people to eat more beans and
lentils. But that is far beyond the meagre resources of the food bank.
Every year food bank volunteers
spend about $35,000 - all donated funds - to purchase food that is delivered
on the sealift. Local merchants, including Northmart and Arctic Ventures, regularly
provide surplus food.
And people in the community
also provide canned goods and other packaged food, particularly before Christmas,
when food bank volunteers put extra efforts into attracting donations, because
demand is greatest around the holiday season and in January.
Last year, the food bank
provided food to more than 5,800 people from almost 1,500 households. About
half the households are single parent families, and about a fifth of the people
are single.
If you want to know what
the hunting is like near Iqaluit in the winter, just ask at the food bank. Last
winter, for instance, there weren't many caribou close to the city, so it was
a busy season for the people who give away food.
During the summer, when
people can fish or otherwise go out and live off the land, the food bank is
far less busy. Even so, from year to year, demand keeps growing - sometimes
by as much as 50 per cent.
Like the people who rely
on it, the food bank itself has a history of hard luck. In 2003, just before
Christmas, thieves broke into the food bank building, helped themselves to food
and drinks, and then sprayed juice all over the walls and onto computer equipment,
ruining a computer keyboard.
But that was minor compared
to the disaster of 2004, when a sprinkler system flooded the building that the
food bank and soup kitchen was in at the time.
Still, for every setback
there seems to be a reason for hope. One woman, who prefers to remain nameless,
makes a point of donating $1,000 to $2,000 every year to the food bank, because,
she says, she is grateful for the help she received years ago at a food bank
in another community.
And despite the rising
numbers of people who come to the food bank every year, Hayward says she occasionally
runs into someone whom she hasn't seen for a while. "I"ll ask them
why they haven't been in, and they'll tell me they're working and doing all
right."
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