By Kristin BivensInside a third-floor apartment, tucked in the back, a group of volunteers gather every Saturday in a kitchen to cook donated food. The food is later moved to a different location and served to anyone who wants some. It is not a soup kitchen, nor is it a Meals on Wheels program.
The group, at its core, is the coming together of people with common beliefs and heart to use their time to make both a tangible statement of their beliefs. Among them: That they should help feed those in need.
The local group happens to be just one chapter of the international organization Food Not Bombs, or FNB,an organization that according to its mission statement, “believe[s] that food is a basic human right and no one should go hungry when so much food is wasted every day.”
The group takes food that would otherwise be thrown away by food outlets—restaurants and stores—and cooks and serves it to those in the community. The food is all vegetarian. Though the organization cooks food, FNB, true to its name, is essentially an anti-war protest, its organizers say.
“Technically, it’s a war protest,” said Travis Clark, 27, a volunteer.
But regardless of belief systems and politics, one chapter of the national group here says it feeds somewhere around 50 people a week.
“We don’t like the system,” said Mark Saulys, another volunteer with the group. “And we’d like to do something about it, so we do something about it by offering something else.”
“We want everybody in the world to become a Food Not Bombs volunteer,” he added.
Political agendas aside, the group says it makes good use of the 50 percent of food—at least that portion it receives—that it contends is wasted every year in the United States.
The organization began in 1980 in Cambridge, Mass., as a result of the efforts of anti-nuclear activists and is dedicated to “nonviolent social change,” according to the group’s published literature. And the group boasts hundreds of different chapters in the world today, three of which are located in Chicago, a volunteer here said.
Using food that would otherwise go to waste allows FNB to get its message across while also using what seems to be a simple concept to try and alleviate hunger.
‘Sharing It’
Sweet potatoes steamed as they sat in the cream-colored roasting pan on a recent winter Saturday, a group of volunteers gathered in the kitchen near Humboldt Park in Chicago and prepared the meal t
hey would later deliver to the Rumble Arts Center to be served to families in need. The group gathered around noon to cook for several hours.
The donation of food came from a Whole Foods store and included mashed sweet potatoes, beans and rice, a salad mix and stir fry.
hey would later deliver to the Rumble Arts Center to be served to families in need. The group gathered around noon to cook for several hours.The donation of food came from a Whole Foods store and included mashed sweet potatoes, beans and rice, a salad mix and stir fry.
World music drifted into the kitchen from the living room as the scents and sound of simmering food filled the kitchen.
Jenny Abrahamian, 28, a FNB Chicago volunteer for a little over a year, worked at mashing the sweet potatoes as fellow volunteers also prepared food. Despite FNB’s political leanings, Abrahamian doesn’t like to think of FNB coming into a community and peddling its beliefs, which she contends is what some faith-based soup kitchens sometimes do.
“We try to kind of bring people together...We’re trying to be part of the community and not just coming in and giving charity to people,” she said.
She also said that volunteers eat with those they serve, which creates more of a community feel.
Clark, who stood by the stove doing more observing than actual cooking recently, said the group’s approach to feeding those in need is more about dignity—something he believes one can’t get from a soup kitchen.
“You go there and people have an agenda. They want to get you on board with what they believe or…make themselves feel good because they’re working at a soup kitchen,” Clark said.
Because the volunteers eat and mingle with the patrons at FNB, there is a sort of equality between the two groups. Clark said that the food FNB makes also helps him.
“I’m supported by it, too. It helps me to live,” he said.
Other volunteers agreed.
“We’re poor, too. We’re just sharing it,” said Saulys, 29, who minutes earlier debated whether a can of black beans might contain botulism. Clark had assured Saulys that botulism was a hidden killer.
But Saulys, not one to waste good food, ate the beans anyway. He said the beans tasted fine.
‘Making a Spectacle’
A red wooden sign with large painted yellow bubble letters read, “Free Food” on the top and “Food Not Bombs” on the bottom. The sign welcomed those on the street into the Rumble Arts Center, at 3413 W. North Ave..
Inside the Rumble Arts Center, families assembled in two lines to take part in the food donation. Boxes of apples sat towards the back of the room, somewhat hidden by a mob of people dressed in winter gear. The cooked food was spread on a table near the front. Volunteers watched as the 50 or so people waited for their share of the pantry food, which is also provided by FNB.
Some families came equipped with their own shopping carts, filled with bags of food.
“Yams? You shouldn’t have,” one volunteer says,
After the families collect food from the boxes, some partake of the hot meal and stand around the room quickly eating. A father feds his son. Another man with a brown cap and a plaid gray jacket rubbed his eyes as he stood with his shopping cart. Forks clinked against the ceramic plates.
Abrahamian said that normally the food is served outside, but winter is just too harsh in the Chicago area to serve outside. When it’s warmer outside, the group usually sets the food up on a picnic bench. By holding the event outside, the group hopes people will notice what they’re doing.
“Part of the whole thing is making a spectacle,” she said.
“Technically, it’s a war protest,” said Clark of serving food as he walked towards the door at Rumble Arts Center.
A protest that the group says feeds somewhere around 50 people a week at just this one local chapter.
“We don’t like the system. And we’d like to do something about it, so we do something about it by offering something else,” said Saulys. “We want everybody in the world to become a Food Not Bombs volunteer.”
Jenny Abrahamian, 28, a FNB Chicago volunteer for a little over a year, worked at mashing the sweet potatoes as fellow volunteers also prepared food. Despite FNB’s political leanings, Abrahamian doesn’t like to think of FNB coming into a community and peddling its beliefs, which she contends is what some faith-based soup kitchens sometimes do.
“We try to kind of bring people together...We’re trying to be part of the community and not just coming in and giving charity to people,” she said.
She also said that volunteers eat with those they serve, which creates more of a community feel.
Clark, who stood by the stove doing more observing than actual cooking recently, said the group’s approach to feeding those in need is more about dignity—something he believes one can’t get from a soup kitchen.
“You go there and people have an agenda. They want to get you on board with what they believe or…make themselves feel good because they’re working at a soup kitchen,” Clark said.
Because the volunteers eat and mingle with the patrons at FNB, there is a sort of equality between the two groups. Clark said that the food FNB makes also helps him.
“I’m supported by it, too. It helps me to live,” he said.
Other volunteers agreed.
“We’re poor, too. We’re just sharing it,” said Saulys, 29, who minutes earlier debated whether a can of black beans might contain botulism. Clark had assured Saulys that botulism was a hidden killer.
But Saulys, not one to waste good food, ate the beans anyway. He said the beans tasted fine.
‘Making a Spectacle’
A red wooden sign with large painted yellow bubble letters read, “Free Food” on the top and “Food Not Bombs” on the bottom. The sign welcomed those on the street into the Rumble Arts Center, at 3413 W. North Ave..
Inside the Rumble Arts Center, families assembled in two lines to take part in the food donation. Boxes of apples sat towards the back of the room, somewhat hidden by a mob of people dressed in winter gear. The cooked food was spread on a table near the front. Volunteers watched as the 50 or so people waited for their share of the pantry food, which is also provided by FNB.
Some families came equipped with their own shopping carts, filled with bags of food.
“Yams? You shouldn’t have,” one volunteer says,
After the families collect food from the boxes, some partake of the hot meal and stand around the room quickly eating. A father feds his son. Another man with a brown cap and a plaid gray jacket rubbed his eyes as he stood with his shopping cart. Forks clinked against the ceramic plates.
Abrahamian said that normally the food is served outside, but winter is just too harsh in the Chicago area to serve outside. When it’s warmer outside, the group usually sets the food up on a picnic bench. By holding the event outside, the group hopes people will notice what they’re doing.
“Part of the whole thing is making a spectacle,” she said.
“Technically, it’s a war protest,” said Clark of serving food as he walked towards the door at Rumble Arts Center.
A protest that the group says feeds somewhere around 50 people a week at just this one local chapter.
“We don’t like the system. And we’d like to do something about it, so we do something about it by offering something else,” said Saulys. “We want everybody in the world to become a Food Not Bombs volunteer.”
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