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City Harvest brei uit in Brooklyn

City Harvest brei uit in Brooklyn


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City Harvest se Brooklyn Mobile Market verhuis na 'n groter plek

City Harvest is al jare lank daartoe verbind om honger in New York te help beveg, en nou brei hulle hul horisonne uit. Met die hulp van die New York City Housing Authority, verhuis City Harvest hul Brooklyn Mobile Market na 'n groter plek in die Tompkins House in Bed Stuy.

Die nuwe ligging het 'n binneruimte en nog baie meer tafels vir produkte. In samewerking met die mark bevat die nuwe ruimte meer ruimte vir kookdemonstrasies, voedingsopvoedingsaktiwiteite en fiksheidsdemonstrasies, sowel as bloeddruk toetsing en diabetesondersoek.

Tans is die mark twee keer per maand oop, op die eerste Saterdag en derde Woensdag, vanaf 09:30. tot 11:30.

Die mobiele mark is deel van die City Harvest Healthy Neighborhoods -program, wat daarop gemik is om toegang tot vars produkte te verhoog en gesonde eetgewoontes te bevorder. Met die nuwe ruimte sal die program meer mense in nood kan bereik.


Hoe Covid koskaste in 'Mini-Costcos' verander het

Toe die son op 'n onlangse Saterdagmiddag ondergaan, het Joel Matos die dosyn of wat vrywilligers wat die buitekoskas verlaat, bedank en bedank, bedank op die grens van Sunset Park en Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Dan kyk meneer Matos, die stigter en direkteur van Holding Hands Ministries, rustig na die palette van blikkies en produkte, en die hoop kartondose wat nog skoongemaak moet word. Slegs vyf vrywilligers het oorgebly, waaronder hy en sy vrou.

'Dit is wanneer ek begin skrik,' het mnr. Matos gesê. Hy het toe 'n vlermuis-emoji na 'n vriend gestuur om hulp te vra.

Mnr. Matos, wat ook van Maandag tot Vrydag by die New Yorkse polisiedepartement werk, het gesê dat hy 'n paar mense tydens sy ete -pouse sal sms. Andersins sal hy en sy skeletpersoneel waarskynlik tot 9 of 10 daardie aand werk.

Die goeie nuus is dat daar genoeg kos aan die hongeriges van die stad versprei word, ongeveer 1,6 miljoen mense, volgens die Food Bank in New York, 'n niewinsorganisasie wat baie versprei. Dit beteken dat kleiner koskaste aan die ontvangkant uit hul nate bars met produkte, maar sukkel sonder die infrastruktuur om dit op te slaan en te deel.

Op die hoogtepunt van die pandemie het ongeveer 40 persent van die ongeveer 800 sopkombuise en spense van die stad permanent gesluit, volgens Leslie Gordon, die president van die Food Bank. Die plekke wat oopgebly het, het de facto middelpunte geword, hul ure uitgebrei en groter en meer gereeld aflewerings ontvang, en het feitlik oornag 'mini-Costcos' geword, sê Mariana Silfa van City Harvest, 'n ander niewinsorganisasie wat goedere versprei na plekke in New York.

'Skielik het almal alles nodig, soos vurkhysers, palletjacks en yskaste,' het mev. Silfa gesê.

Dit is nie ongewoon om woorde soos "pakhuisoptimalisering" en "vaartbelynde voorraadbestuur" van die personeel by hierdie klein spens te hoor nie, waarvan baie 60 persent meer voedsel versprei as in 2019, volgens die Food Bank for New York Stad.

'Daar was 'n dag toe ek sakke patats in ons kantoor van die verpleegster sien stapel, en ek het gedink:' Hoe kan ons pakhuis so vol wees? ', Sê Diane Arneth, uitvoerende direkteur van Community Health Action van Staten Island, 'n en maatskaplike dienste sonder winsbejag, wat 'n spens bedryf met 'n groot pakhuis in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In die vroeë dae van die pandemie het die pakhuis ongeorganiseerd geraak namate die lewering van voedsel eksponensieel toegeneem het. Personeel daar het verskeie plaaslike kruidenierswinkels ingeroep om wenke oor bergingsbestuur te kry, maar die stilstand het kommunikasie gestrem. Uiteindelik het die pakhuiswerkers eenvoudig geleer deur te doen.

Namate die verspreiding na buite verskuif het om sosiale distansiëringsprotokolle te volg, het die pakhuis nuwe toerusting nodig. Subsidiegeld is gebruik om 'n motorafdak, verwarmers, tafels, stoele, tente, seile en walkie-talkie-stelle te koop. Maar die twee elektriese pallet -aansluitings was waarskynlik die belangrikste belegging van die nie -winsgewende organisasie, sê George Barreto, direkteur van spensbedrywighede.

'Soms het dit ons ure geneem om die kos uit die vragmotor te laai,' het hy gesê. 'Nou is dit in twee gesny.'

In die Bronx het ds Emaeyak Ekanem se spens skielik een van die grootste verspreidingsplekke in die stad geword.

'Ons het aanvanklik nie geweet wat om te doen as hierdie groot sleepwaens al die kos saambring nie,' het Ekanem gesê. 'Die leerkurwe om 'n operasie van hierdie grootte uit te voer, was baie steil.

Gelukkig het die National Guard 'n paar maande ingeskuif om sy spens te help bestuur, wat deur Christ Disciples International Ministries geborg word. Hy het geleer hoe om sy groep vrywilligers te verdeel om in skofte te werk sodat die lyn vinnig beweeg. Hy het ook 'n span saamgestel om data van spenskliënte te versamel, en 'n inloop-yskas en vurkhyser gekoop. Maar hy sou nog steeds graag 'n lopende band wou aflewerings na die kerkkelder bring om dit op te berg. Op die oomblik gebruik vrywilligers 'n houtplank.

Opgraderings by verskillende spens kom uit privaat skenkings en deur toelae van groter niewinsorganisasies. Food Bank in New York het gesê dat hy $ 14 miljoen bestee om sy lidnetwerk te versterk. City Harvest het sy jaarlikse begrotingsbegroting meer as verdubbel tot $ 430,000.

St. John's Bread and Life, 'n noodsaaklike voedseldiens in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, het ongeveer $ 250,000 bestee om die kapasiteit te verhoog. Volgens suster Caroline Tweedy, die uitvoerende direkteur, voltooi die opknapping van sy verkoeling, wat 'n nuwe 20-voet koue-stoor-eenheid insluit, gekoop met behulp van City Harvest-fondse. Elektriese opgraderings is aan die gebou aangebring en deurskakelde vensters is geïnstalleer om kontakvrye voedselverspreiding te verseker. Daar is ook planne om 'n bakkie te koop en die mobiele spensdienste van die onderneming uit te brei.

Mnr. Matos, van Holding Hands, is bekommerd oor die stygende koste. Hy het gesê dat dit moeilik was om geld te kry om vir 'n uitwisser te betaal, sodat die parkeerterrein van die kerk nie deur knaagdiere oorval word nie. Hy benodig gewoonlik ses tenks gas per week om die vurkhyser, met die bynaam "50/50", te bestuur, aangesien dit slegs die helfte van die tyd begin. 'Ek probeer om nie te wys hoe bekommerd ek is oor die operasionele kant van sake nie,' het hy gesê.

Toenemende vraag het ook naaste -griewe beteken. Toe die voedsellyn by Holding Hands langer word, het inwoners en besighede in die omgewing by die polisie en mnr. Matos gekla oor die geraas en die gemors wat mense agtergelaat het. Restauranteienaars het gekla oor lyne-soms 10 plus blokke lank-wat verby hul sitplekke buite slinger.

Toe die aand nader kom, en Mnr. Matos in die straat afloop om vullis op te vang, stop hy toe hy 'n plastieksak met oranje gooi sien.

'Dit is nie goed nie,' het mnr. Matos gesê, 'n bietjie verslaan. 'Dit is die garnale -bisque wat ons verlede week versprei het.'


Hoe Covid koskaste in 'Mini-Costcos' verander het

Toe die son op 'n onlangse Saterdagmiddag ondergaan, het Joel Matos die dosyn of wat vrywilligers wat die buitekoskas verlaat, bedank en bedank, bedank op die grens van Sunset Park en Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Dan kyk meneer Matos, die stigter en direkteur van Holding Hands Ministries, rustig na die palette van blikkies en produkte, en die hoop kartondose wat nog skoongemaak moet word. Slegs vyf vrywilligers het oorgebly, waaronder hy en sy vrou.

'Dit is wanneer ek begin skrik,' het mnr. Matos gesê. Hy het toe 'n vlermuis-emoji na 'n vriend gestuur om hulp te vra.

Mnr. Matos, wat ook van Maandag tot Vrydag by die New Yorkse polisiedepartement werk, het gesê dat hy tydens sy ete 'n paar mense 'n SMS sal stuur. Andersins sal hy en sy skeletpersoneel waarskynlik tot 9 of 10 daardie aand werk.

Die goeie nuus is dat daar genoeg kos aan die hongeriges van die stad versprei word, ongeveer 1,6 miljoen mense, volgens die Food Bank in New York, 'n niewinsorganisasie wat baie versprei. Dit beteken dat kleiner koskaste aan die ontvangkant uit hul nate bars met produkte, maar sukkel sonder die infrastruktuur om dit op te slaan en te deel.

Op die hoogtepunt van die pandemie het ongeveer 40 persent van die ongeveer 800 sopkombuise en spense van die stad permanent gesluit, volgens Leslie Gordon, die president van die Food Bank. Die plekke wat oopgebly het, het de facto middelpunte geword, hul ure uitgebrei en groter en meer gereeld aflewerings ontvang, en het feitlik oornag 'mini-Costcos' geword, sê Mariana Silfa van City Harvest, 'n ander niewinsorganisasie wat goedere versprei na plekke in New York.

'Skielik het almal alles nodig, soos vurkhysers, palletjacks en yskaste,' het mev. Silfa gesê.

Dit is nie ongewoon om woorde soos "pakhuisoptimalisering" en "vaartbelynde voorraadbestuur" van die personeel by hierdie klein spens te hoor nie, waarvan baie 60 persent meer voedsel versprei as in 2019, volgens die Food Bank for New York Stad.

'Daar was 'n dag toe ek sakke patats in ons kantoor van die verpleegster sien stapel, en ek het gedink:' Hoe kan ons pakhuis so vol wees? ', Sê Diane Arneth, uitvoerende direkteur van Community Health Action van Staten Island, 'n en maatskaplike dienste sonder winsbejag, wat 'n spens bedryf met 'n groot pakhuis in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In die vroeë dae van die pandemie het die pakhuis ongeorganiseerd geraak namate die aflewering van voedsel eksponensieel toegeneem het. Personeellede daar het verskeie plaaslike kruidenierswinkels ingeroep om wenke oor bergingsbestuur te kry, maar die stilstand het kommunikasie gestrem. Uiteindelik het die pakhuiswerkers eenvoudig geleer deur te doen.

Namate die verspreiding na buite verskuif het om sosiale distansiëringsprotokolle te volg, het die pakhuis nuwe toerusting nodig. Subsidiegeld is gebruik om 'n motorafdak, verwarmers, tafels, stoele, tente, seile en walkie-talkie-stelle te koop. Maar die twee elektriese pallet -aansluitings was waarskynlik die belangrikste belegging van die nie -winsgewende organisasie, sê George Barreto, direkteur van spensbedrywighede.

'Soms het dit ons ure geneem om die kos uit die vragmotor te laai,' het hy gesê. 'Nou is dit in twee gesny.'

In die Bronx het ds Emaeyak Ekanem se spens skielik een van die grootste verspreidingsplekke in die stad geword.

'Ons het aanvanklik nie geweet wat om te doen as hierdie groot sleepwaens al die kos saambring nie,' het Ekanem gesê. 'Die leerkurwe om 'n operasie van hierdie grootte uit te voer, was baie steil.

Gelukkig het die National Guard 'n paar maande ingeskuif om sy spens te help bestuur, wat deur Christ Disciples International Ministries geborg word. Hy het geleer hoe om sy poel vrywilligers te verdeel om in skofte te werk sodat die lyn vinnig beweeg. Hy het ook 'n span saamgestel om data van spenskliënte te versamel, en 'n inloop-yskas en vurkhyser gekoop. Maar hy sou nog steeds graag 'n lopende band wou aflewerings na die kerkkelder bring om dit op te berg. Op die oomblik gebruik vrywilligers 'n houtplank.

Opgraderings by verskillende spens kom uit privaat skenkings en deur toelae van groter niewinsorganisasies. Food Bank in New York het gesê dat hy $ 14 miljoen bestee om sy lidnetwerk te versterk. City Harvest het sy jaarlikse toelaagbegroting meer as verdubbel tot $ 430,000.

St. John's Bread and Life, 'n noodsaaklike voedseldiens in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, het ongeveer $ 250,000 bestee om die kapasiteit te verhoog. Volgens suster Caroline Tweedy, die uitvoerende direkteur, voltooi die opknapping van sy verkoeling, wat 'n nuwe 20-voudige opbergingseenheid insluit, gekoop met behulp van City Harvest-fondse. Elektriese opgraderings is aan die gebou aangebring en deurskakelde vensters is geïnstalleer om kontakvrye voedselverspreiding te verseker. Daar is ook planne om 'n bakkie te koop en die mobiele spensdienste van die onderneming uit te brei.

Mnr. Matos, van Holding Hands, is bekommerd oor die stygende koste. Hy het gesê dat dit moeilik was om geld te kry om vir 'n uitwisser te betaal, sodat die parkeerterrein van die kerk nie deur knaagdiere oorval word nie. Hy benodig gewoonlik ses tenks gas per week om die vurkhyser, met die bynaam "50/50", te bestuur, aangesien dit slegs die helfte van die tyd begin. 'Ek probeer om nie te wys hoe bekommerd ek is oor die operasionele kant van sake nie,' het hy gesê.

Toenemende vraag het ook naaste -griewe beteken. Toe die voedsellyn by Holding Hands langer word, het inwoners en besighede in die omgewing by die polisie en mnr. Matos gekla oor die geraas en die gemors wat mense agtergelaat het. Restauranteienaars het gekla oor lyne-soms 10 plus blokke lank-wat verby hul buitelug sitplekke sluip.

Toe die aand nader kom, en Matos in die straat afloop om vullis op te vang, stop hy toe hy 'n plastieksak met oranje gooi sien.

'Dit is nie goed nie,' het mnr. Matos gesê, 'n bietjie verslaan. 'Dit is die garnale -bisque wat ons verlede week versprei het.'


Hoe Covid koskaste in 'Mini-Costcos' verander het

Toe die son op 'n onlangse Saterdagmiddag ondergaan, het Joel Matos die dosyn of wat vrywilligers wat die buitekoskas verlaat, bedank en bedank, bedank op die grens van Sunset Park en Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Dan kyk meneer Matos, die stigter en direkteur van Holding Hands Ministries, rustig na die palette van blikkies en produkte, en die hoop kartondose wat nog skoongemaak moet word. Slegs vyf vrywilligers het oorgebly, waaronder hy en sy vrou.

'Dit is wanneer ek begin skrik,' het mnr. Matos gesê. Hy het toe 'n vlermuis-emoji na 'n vriend gestuur om hulp te vra.

Mnr. Matos, wat ook van Maandag tot Vrydag by die New Yorkse polisiedepartement werk, het gesê dat hy 'n paar mense tydens sy ete -pouse sal sms. Andersins sal hy en sy skeletpersoneel waarskynlik tot 9 of 10 daardie aand werk.

Die goeie nuus is dat daar genoeg kos aan die hongeriges van die stad versprei word, ongeveer 1,6 miljoen mense, volgens die Food Bank in New York, 'n niewinsorganisasie wat baie versprei. Dit beteken dat kleiner koskaste aan die ontvangkant uit hul nate bars met produkte, maar sukkel sonder die infrastruktuur om dit op te slaan en te deel.

Op die hoogtepunt van die pandemie het ongeveer 40 persent van die ongeveer 800 sopkombuise en spense van die stad permanent gesluit, volgens Leslie Gordon, die president van die Food Bank. Die plekke wat oopgebly het, het de facto middelpunte geword, hul ure uitgebrei en groter en meer gereeld aflewerings ontvang, en het feitlik oornag 'mini-Costcos' geword, sê Mariana Silfa, van City Harvest, 'n ander niewinsorganisasie wat goedere versprei na plekke in New York.

'Skielik het almal alles nodig, soos vurkhysers, palletjacks en yskaste,' het mev. Silfa gesê.

Dit is nie ongewoon om woorde soos 'pakhuisoptimalisering' en 'vaartbelynde voorraadbestuur' van die personeel by hierdie klein spens te hoor nie, waarvan baie 60 persent meer voedsel versprei as in 2019, volgens die Food Bank for New York Stad.

'Daar was 'n dag toe ek sakke patats in ons kantoor van die verpleegster sien stapel, en ek het gedink:' Hoe kan ons pakhuis so vol wees? ', Sê Diane Arneth, uitvoerende direkteur van Community Health Action van Staten Island, 'n en maatskaplike dienste sonder winsbejag, wat 'n spens bedryf met 'n groot pakhuis in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In die vroeë dae van die pandemie het die pakhuis ongeorganiseerd geraak namate die aflewering van voedsel eksponensieel toegeneem het. Personeel daar het verskeie plaaslike kruidenierswinkels ingeroep om wenke oor bergingsbestuur te kry, maar die stilstand het kommunikasie gestrem. Uiteindelik het die pakhuiswerkers eenvoudig geleer deur te doen.

Namate die verspreiding na buite verskuif het om sosiale distansiëringsprotokolle te volg, het die pakhuis nuwe toerusting nodig. Subsidiegeld is gebruik om 'n motorafdak, verwarmers, tafels, stoele, tente, seile en walkie-talkiestelle te koop. Maar die twee elektriese pallet -aansluitings was waarskynlik die belangrikste belegging van die nie -winsgewende organisasie, sê George Barreto, direkteur van spensbedrywighede.

'Soms het dit ons ure geneem om die kos uit die vragmotor te laai,' het hy gesê. 'Nou is dit in twee gesny.'

In die Bronx het ds Emaeyak Ekanem se spens skielik een van die grootste verspreidingsplekke in die stad geword.

'Ons het aanvanklik nie geweet wat om te doen as hierdie groot sleepwaens al die kos saambring nie,' het Ekanem gesê. 'Die leerkurwe om 'n operasie van hierdie grootte uit te voer, was baie steil.

Gelukkig het die National Guard 'n paar maande ingeskuif om sy spens, wat deur Christ Disciples International Ministries geborg word, te help bestuur. Hy het geleer hoe om sy groep vrywilligers te verdeel om in skofte te werk sodat die lyn vinnig beweeg. Hy het ook 'n span saamgestel om data van spenskliënte te versamel, en 'n inloop-yskas en vurkhyser gekoop. Maar hy sou nog steeds graag 'n lopende band wou aflewerings na die kerkkelder bring om dit op te berg. Op die oomblik gebruik vrywilligers 'n houtplank.

Opgraderings by verskillende spens kom uit privaat skenkings en deur toelae van groter niewinsorganisasies. Food Bank in New York het gesê dat hy $ 14 miljoen bestee om sy lidnetwerk te versterk. City Harvest het sy jaarlikse toelaagbegroting meer as verdubbel tot $ 430,000.

St. John's Bread and Life, 'n noodsaaklike voedseldiens in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, het ongeveer $ 250,000 bestee om die kapasiteit te verhoog. Volgens suster Caroline Tweedy, die uitvoerende direkteur, voltooi die opknapping van sy verkoeling, wat 'n nuwe 20-voet koue-stoor-eenheid insluit, gekoop met behulp van City Harvest-fondse. Daar is elektriese opgraderings aan die gebou aangebring en deurskakelingsvensters is geïnstalleer om kontakvrye voedselverspreiding te verseker. Daar is ook planne om 'n bakkie te koop en die mobiele spensdienste van die onderneming uit te brei.

Mnr. Matos, van Holding Hands, is bekommerd oor die stygende koste. Hy het gesê dat dit moeilik was om geld te kry om vir 'n uitwisser te betaal, sodat die parkeerterrein van die kerk nie deur knaagdiere oorval word nie. Hy benodig gewoonlik ses tenks gas per week om die vurkhyser, met die bynaam "50/50", te bestuur, aangesien dit slegs die helfte van die tyd begin. 'Ek probeer om nie te wys hoe bekommerd ek is oor die operasionele kant van sake nie,' het hy gesê.

Toenemende vraag het ook naaste -griewe beteken. Toe die voedsellyn by Holding Hands langer word, het inwoners en besighede in die omgewing by die polisie en mnr. Matos gekla oor die geraas en die gemors wat mense agtergelaat het. Restauranteienaars het gekla oor lyne-soms 10 plus blokke lank-wat verby hul sitplekke buite slinger.

Toe die aand nader kom, en Mnr. Matos in die straat afloop om vullis op te vang, stop hy toe hy 'n plastieksak met oranje gooi sien.

'Dit is nie goed nie,' het mnr. Matos gesê, 'n bietjie verslaan. 'Dit is die garnale -bisque wat ons verlede week versprei het.'


Hoe Covid koskaste in 'Mini-Costcos' verander het

Toe die son op 'n onlangse Saterdagmiddag ondergaan, het Joel Matos die dosyn of wat vrywilligers wat by die buitekoskas verlaat het, bedank en bedank, bedank op die grens van Sunset Park en Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Dan kyk meneer Matos, die stigter en direkteur van Holding Hands Ministries, rustig na die palette van blikkies en produkte, en die hoop kartondose wat nog skoongemaak moet word. Slegs vyf vrywilligers het oorgebly, waaronder hy en sy vrou.

'Dit is wanneer ek begin skrik,' het mnr. Matos gesê. Hy het toe 'n vlermuis-emoji na 'n vriend gestuur om hulp te vra.

Mnr. Matos, wat ook van Maandag tot Vrydag by die New Yorkse polisiedepartement werk, het gesê dat hy 'n paar mense tydens sy ete -pouse sal sms. Andersins sal hy en sy skeletpersoneel waarskynlik tot 9 of 10 daardie aand werk.

Die goeie nuus is dat daar genoeg kos aan die hongeriges van die stad versprei word, ongeveer 1,6 miljoen mense, volgens die Food Bank in New York, 'n niewinsorganisasie wat baie versprei. Dit beteken dat kleiner koskaste aan die ontvangkant uit hul nate bars met produkte, maar sukkel sonder die infrastruktuur om dit op te slaan en te deel.

Op die hoogtepunt van die pandemie het ongeveer 40 persent van die ongeveer 800 sopkombuise en spense van die stad permanent gesluit, volgens Leslie Gordon, die president van die Food Bank. Die plekke wat oopgebly het, het de facto middelpunte geword, hul ure uitgebrei en groter en meer gereeld aflewerings ontvang, en het feitlik oornag 'mini-Costcos' geword, sê Mariana Silfa van City Harvest, 'n ander niewinsorganisasie wat goedere versprei na plekke in New York.

'Skielik het almal alles nodig, soos vurkhysers, palletjacks en yskaste,' het mev. Silfa gesê.

Dit is nie ongewoon om woorde soos "pakhuisoptimalisering" en "vaartbelynde voorraadbestuur" van die personeel by hierdie klein spens te hoor nie, waarvan baie 60 persent meer voedsel versprei as in 2019, volgens die Food Bank for New York Stad.

'Daar was 'n dag toe ek sakke patats in die kantoor van ons verpleegster sien stapel en ek het gedink:' Hoe kan ons pakhuis so vol wees? ', Sê Diane Arneth, uitvoerende direkteur van Community Health Action van Staten Island, 'n en maatskaplike dienste sonder winsbejag, wat 'n spens bedryf met 'n groot pakhuis in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In die vroeë dae van die pandemie het die pakhuis ongeorganiseerd geraak namate die aflewering van voedsel eksponensieel toegeneem het. Personeellede daar het verskeie plaaslike kruidenierswinkels ingeroep om wenke oor bergingsbestuur te kry, maar die stilstand het kommunikasie gestrem. Uiteindelik het die pakhuiswerkers eenvoudig geleer deur te doen.

Namate die verspreiding na buite verskuif het om sosiale distansiëringsprotokolle te volg, het die pakhuis nuwe toerusting nodig. Subsidiegeld is gebruik om 'n motorafdak, verwarmers, tafels, stoele, tente, seile en walkie-talkiestelle te koop. Maar die twee elektriese pallet -aansluitings was waarskynlik die belangrikste belegging van die nie -winsgewende organisasie, sê George Barreto, direkteur van spensbedrywighede.

'Soms het dit ons ure geneem om die kos uit die vragmotor te laai,' het hy gesê. 'Nou is dit in twee gesny.'

In die Bronx het ds Emaeyak Ekanem se spens skielik een van die grootste verspreidingsplekke in die stad geword.

'Ons het aanvanklik nie geweet wat om te doen as hierdie groot sleepwaens al die kos saambring nie,' het Ekanem gesê. 'Die leerkurwe om 'n operasie van hierdie grootte uit te voer, was baie steil.

Gelukkig het die National Guard 'n paar maande ingeskuif om sy spens te help bestuur, wat deur Christ Disciples International Ministries geborg word. Hy het geleer hoe om sy poel vrywilligers te verdeel om in skofte te werk sodat die lyn vinnig beweeg. Hy het ook 'n span saamgestel om data van spenskliënte te versamel, en 'n inloop-yskas en vurkhyser gekoop. Maar hy sou nog steeds graag 'n lopende band wou aflewerings na die kerkkelder bring om dit op te berg. Op die oomblik gebruik vrywilligers 'n houtplank.

Opgraderings by verskillende spens kom uit privaat skenkings en deur toelae van groter niewinsorganisasies. Food Bank in New York het gesê dat hy $ 14 miljoen bestee om sy lidnetwerk te versterk. City Harvest het sy jaarlikse toelaagbegroting meer as verdubbel tot $ 430,000.

St. John's Bread and Life, 'n noodsaaklike voedseldiens in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, het ongeveer $ 250,000 bestee om die kapasiteit te verhoog. Volgens suster Caroline Tweedy, die uitvoerende direkteur, voltooi die opknapping van sy verkoeling, wat 'n nuwe 20-voet koue-stoor-eenheid insluit, gekoop met behulp van City Harvest-fondse. Daar is elektriese opgraderings aan die gebou aangebring en deurskakelingsvensters is geïnstalleer om kontakvrye voedselverspreiding te verseker. Daar is ook planne om 'n bakkie te koop en die mobiele spensdienste van die onderneming uit te brei.

Mnr. Matos, van Holding Hands, is bekommerd oor die stygende koste. Hy het gesê dat dit moeilik was om geld te kry om vir 'n uitwisser te betaal, sodat die parkeerterrein van die kerk nie deur knaagdiere oorval word nie. Hy benodig gewoonlik ses tenks gas per week om die vurkhyser, met die bynaam "50/50", te bestuur, aangesien dit slegs die helfte van die tyd begin. 'Ek probeer om nie te wys hoe bekommerd ek is oor die operasionele kant van sake nie,' het hy gesê.

Toenemende vraag het ook naaste -griewe beteken. Toe die voedsellyn by Holding Hands langer word, het inwoners en besighede in die omgewing by die polisie en mnr. Matos gekla oor die geraas en die gemors wat mense agtergelaat het. Restauranteienaars het gekla oor lyne-soms 10 plus blokke lank-wat verby hul buitelug sitplekke sluip.

Toe die aand nader kom, en Matos in die straat afloop om vullis op te vang, stop hy toe hy 'n plastieksak met oranje gooi sien.

'Dit is nie goed nie,' het mnr. Matos gesê, 'n bietjie verslaan. 'Dit is die garnale -bisque wat ons verlede week versprei het.'


Hoe Covid koskaste in 'Mini-Costcos' verander het

Toe die son op 'n onlangse Saterdagmiddag ondergaan, het Joel Matos die dosyn of wat vrywilligers wat by die buitekoskas verlaat het, bedank en bedank, bedank op die grens van Sunset Park en Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Toe kyk meneer Matos, die stigter en direkteur van Holding Hands Ministries, rustig na die palette van blikkies en produkte, en die hoop kartondose wat nog skoongemaak moet word. Slegs vyf vrywilligers het oorgebly, waaronder hy en sy vrou.

'Dit is wanneer ek begin skrik,' het mnr. Matos gesê. Hy het toe 'n vlermuis-emoji na 'n vriend gestuur om hulp te vra.

Mnr. Matos, wat ook van Maandag tot Vrydag by die New Yorkse polisiedepartement werk, het gesê dat hy tydens sy ete 'n paar mense 'n SMS sal stuur. Andersins sal hy en sy skeletpersoneel waarskynlik tot 9 of 10 daardie aand werk.

Die goeie nuus is dat daar genoeg kos aan die hongeriges van die stad versprei word, ongeveer 1,6 miljoen mense, volgens die Food Bank in New York, 'n niewinsorganisasie wat baie versprei. Dit beteken dat kleiner koskaste aan die ontvangkant uit hul nate bars met produkte, maar sukkel sonder die infrastruktuur om dit op te slaan en te deel.

Op die hoogtepunt van die pandemie het ongeveer 40 persent van die ongeveer 800 sopkombuise en spense van die stad permanent gesluit, volgens Leslie Gordon, die president van die Food Bank. Die plekke wat oopgebly het, het de facto middelpunte geword, hul ure uitgebrei en groter en meer gereeld aflewerings ontvang, en het feitlik oornag 'mini-Costcos' geword, sê Mariana Silfa van City Harvest, 'n ander niewinsorganisasie wat goedere versprei na plekke in New York.

'Skielik het almal alles nodig, soos vurkhysers, palletjacks en yskaste,' het mev. Silfa gesê.

Dit is nie ongewoon om woorde soos 'pakhuisoptimalisering' en 'vaartbelynde voorraadbestuur' van die personeel by hierdie klein spens te hoor nie, waarvan baie 60 persent meer voedsel versprei as in 2019, volgens die Food Bank for New York Stad.

'Daar was 'n dag toe ek sakke patats in ons kantoor van die verpleegster sien stapel, en ek het gedink:' Hoe kan ons pakhuis so vol wees? ', Sê Diane Arneth, uitvoerende direkteur van Community Health Action van Staten Island, 'n en maatskaplike dienste sonder winsbejag, wat 'n spens bedryf met 'n groot pakhuis in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In die vroeë dae van die pandemie het die pakhuis ongeorganiseerd geraak namate die aflewering van voedsel eksponensieel toegeneem het. Personeellede daar het verskeie plaaslike kruidenierswinkels ingeroep om wenke oor bergingsbestuur te kry, maar die stilstand het kommunikasie gestrem. Uiteindelik het die pakhuiswerkers eenvoudig geleer deur te doen.

Namate die verspreiding na buite verskuif het om sosiale distansiëringsprotokolle te volg, het die pakhuis nuwe toerusting nodig. Subsidiegeld is gebruik om 'n motorafdak, verwarmers, tafels, stoele, tente, seile en walkie-talkie-stelle te koop. Maar die twee elektriese pallet -aansluitings was waarskynlik die belangrikste belegging van die nie -winsgewende organisasie, sê George Barreto, direkteur van spensbedrywighede.

'Soms het dit ons ure geneem om die kos uit die vragmotor te laai,' het hy gesê. 'Nou is dit in twee gesny.'

In die Bronx het ds Emaeyak Ekanem se spens skielik een van die grootste verspreidingsplekke in die stad geword.

'Ons het aanvanklik nie geweet wat om te doen as hierdie groot sleepwaens al die kos saambring nie,' het Ekanem gesê. 'Die leerkurwe om 'n operasie van hierdie grootte uit te voer, was baie steil.

Gelukkig het die National Guard 'n paar maande ingeskuif om sy spens, wat deur Christ Disciples International Ministries geborg word, te help bestuur. Hy het geleer hoe om sy groep vrywilligers te verdeel om in skofte te werk sodat die lyn vinnig beweeg. Hy het ook 'n span saamgestel om data van spenskliënte te versamel, en 'n inloop-yskas en vurkhyser gekoop. Maar hy sou nog steeds graag 'n lopende band wou aflewerings na die kerkkelder bring om dit op te berg. Op die oomblik gebruik vrywilligers 'n houtplank.

Opgraderings by verskillende spens kom uit privaat skenkings en deur toelae van groter niewinsorganisasies. Food Bank in New York het gesê dat hy $ 14 miljoen bestee om sy lidnetwerk te versterk. City Harvest het sy jaarlikse toelaagbegroting meer as verdubbel tot $ 430,000.

St. John's Bread and Life, 'n noodsaaklike voedseldiens in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, het ongeveer $ 250,000 bestee om die kapasiteit te verhoog. Volgens suster Caroline Tweedy, die uitvoerende direkteur, voltooi die opknapping van sy verkoeling, wat 'n nuwe 20-voudige opbergingseenheid insluit, gekoop met behulp van City Harvest-fondse. Elektriese opgraderings is aan die gebou aangebring en deurskakelde vensters is geïnstalleer om kontakvrye voedselverspreiding te verseker. Daar is ook planne om 'n bakkie te koop en die mobiele spensdienste van die onderneming uit te brei.

Mnr. Matos, van Holding Hands, is bekommerd oor die stygende koste. Hy het gesê dat dit moeilik was om geld te kry om vir 'n uitwisser te betaal, sodat die parkeerterrein van die kerk nie deur knaagdiere oorval word nie. Hy benodig gewoonlik ses tenks gas per week om die vurkhyser, met die bynaam "50/50", te bestuur, aangesien dit slegs die helfte van die tyd begin. 'Ek probeer om nie te wys hoe bekommerd ek is oor die operasionele kant van sake nie,' het hy gesê.

Toenemende vraag het ook naaste -griewe beteken. Toe die voedsellyn by Holding Hands langer word, het inwoners en besighede in die omgewing by die polisie en mnr. Matos gekla oor die geraas en die gemors wat mense agtergelaat het. Restauranteienaars het gekla oor lyne-soms 10 plus blokke lank-wat verby hul buitelug sitplek slinger.

Toe die aand nader kom, en Matos in die straat afloop om vullis op te vang, stop hy toe hy 'n plastieksak met oranje gooi sien.

'Dit is nie goed nie,' het mnr. Matos gesê, 'n bietjie verslaan. 'Dit is die garnale -bisque wat ons verlede week versprei het.'


Hoe Covid koskaste in 'Mini-Costcos' verander het

As the sun set on a recent Saturday afternoon, Joel Matos fist-bumped and thanked the dozen or so volunteers who were leaving the outdoor food pantry he runs out of a church parking lot on the border of Sunset Park and Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Then Mr. Matos, the founder and director of Holding Hands Ministries, quietly gazed at the pallets of canned goods and produce, and the mound of cardboard boxes that still needed to be cleared. Only five volunteers remained, including him and his wife.

“This is when I start to get scared,” Mr. Matos said. He then sent a bat-signal emoji to a friend, asking for help.

Mr. Matos, who also works Monday through Friday for the New York Police Department, said he would text a few more people during his dinner break. Otherwise, he and his skeletal crew would likely end up working until 9 or 10 that night.

The good news is that there’s plenty of food being distributed to the city’s hungry, about 1.6 million people, according to the Food Bank for New York City, a nonprofit that does a lot of the distributing. This means that smaller food pantries on the receiving end are bursting at the seams with products but struggling without the infrastructure to store and share them.

At the height of the pandemic, about 40 percent of the city’s 800 or so soup kitchens and pantries closed permanently, according to Leslie Gordon, the Food Bank’s president. The places that remained open became de facto hubs, expanding their hours and receiving larger and more frequent deliveries, practically becoming “mini-Costcos” overnight, said Mariana Silfa, of City Harvest, another nonprofit that distributes goods to locations across New York.

“Suddenly, everyone needed extra everything, like forklifts, pallet jacks and refrigerators,” Ms. Silfa said.

Now it is not uncommon to hear words like “warehouse optimization” and “streamlined inventory management” from the staffs at these small pantries, many of which are distributing 60 percent more food than they were in 2019, according to the Food Bank for New York City.

“There was a day when I saw bags of sweet potatoes stacked in our nurse’s office, and I thought, ‘How can our warehouse be that full?’” said Diane Arneth, the executive director of Community Health Action of Staten Island, a health and social services nonprofit, which runs a pantry with a large warehouse in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In the early days of the pandemic, the warehouse became disorganized as food deliveries increased exponentially. Staff members there had reached out to several local grocery stores to learn tips about storage management, but the shutdown stymied communications. Eventually, the warehouse workers simply learned by doing.

As distribution shifted outside to follow social distancing protocols, the warehouse needed new equipment. Grant money was used to buy a carport, heaters, tables, chairs, tents, tarps and walkie-talkie sets. But the two electric pallet jacks were probably the nonprofit’s most important investment, said George Barreto, the director of pantry operations.

“Sometimes it would take us hours to unload the food from the truck,” he said. “Now it’s been cut in half.”

In the Bronx, the Rev. Emaeyak Ekanem’s pantry suddenly became one of the largest distribution sites in the borough.

“We initially didn’t know what to do when these large trailers came with all this food,” Mr. Ekanem said. “The learning curve to run an operation this size was very steep.”

Fortunately, the National Guard swooped in for a few months to help run his pantry, which is sponsored by Christ Disciples International Ministries. He learned how to divide his pool of volunteers to work in shifts so that the line moved quickly. He also formed a team to collect data from pantry clients, and bought a walk-in refrigerator and forklift. But he would still like a conveyor belt to move deliveries to the church basement for storage. Right now volunteers are using a wooden plank.

Upgrades at various pantries come from private donations and through grant funding from larger nonprofits. Food Bank for New York City said it was spending $14 million to strengthen its member network. City Harvest has more than doubled its annual grant budget to $430,000.

St. John’s Bread and Life, an emergency food service nonprofit in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, has spent about $250,000 to increase capacity. It is finishing an upgrade of its refrigeration, which includes a new 20-foot cold-storage unit bought with the help of City Harvest funds, according to Sister Caroline Tweedy, the executive director. Electrical upgrades were made to its building and pass-through windows installed to provide contact-free food distribution. There are also plans to buy a box truck and expand the operation’s mobile pantry services.

Mr. Matos, of Holding Hands, is concerned about mounting costs. He said it had been tough coming up with money to pay for an exterminator so the church parking lot isn’t overrun by rodents. He usually needs six tanks of gas per week to operate the forklift, nicknamed “50/50,” as it starts up only half of the time. “I try not to show how worried I get about the operational side of things,” he said.

Increased demand has also meant neighborly grievances. When the food line at Holding Hands got longer, area residents and businesses complained to the police and to Mr. Matos about the noise and the mess people left behind. Restaurant owners complained about lines — sometimes 10-plus blocks long — snaking past their outdoor seating.

As evening approached, and Mr. Matos walked down the street collecting trash, he stopped when he saw a plastic bag filled with orange goop.

“That’s not good,” Mr. Matos said, looking a bit defeated. “That’s the shrimp bisque we distributed last week.”


How Covid Turned Food Pantries Into ‘Mini-Costcos’

As the sun set on a recent Saturday afternoon, Joel Matos fist-bumped and thanked the dozen or so volunteers who were leaving the outdoor food pantry he runs out of a church parking lot on the border of Sunset Park and Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Then Mr. Matos, the founder and director of Holding Hands Ministries, quietly gazed at the pallets of canned goods and produce, and the mound of cardboard boxes that still needed to be cleared. Only five volunteers remained, including him and his wife.

“This is when I start to get scared,” Mr. Matos said. He then sent a bat-signal emoji to a friend, asking for help.

Mr. Matos, who also works Monday through Friday for the New York Police Department, said he would text a few more people during his dinner break. Otherwise, he and his skeletal crew would likely end up working until 9 or 10 that night.

The good news is that there’s plenty of food being distributed to the city’s hungry, about 1.6 million people, according to the Food Bank for New York City, a nonprofit that does a lot of the distributing. This means that smaller food pantries on the receiving end are bursting at the seams with products but struggling without the infrastructure to store and share them.

At the height of the pandemic, about 40 percent of the city’s 800 or so soup kitchens and pantries closed permanently, according to Leslie Gordon, the Food Bank’s president. The places that remained open became de facto hubs, expanding their hours and receiving larger and more frequent deliveries, practically becoming “mini-Costcos” overnight, said Mariana Silfa, of City Harvest, another nonprofit that distributes goods to locations across New York.

“Suddenly, everyone needed extra everything, like forklifts, pallet jacks and refrigerators,” Ms. Silfa said.

Now it is not uncommon to hear words like “warehouse optimization” and “streamlined inventory management” from the staffs at these small pantries, many of which are distributing 60 percent more food than they were in 2019, according to the Food Bank for New York City.

“There was a day when I saw bags of sweet potatoes stacked in our nurse’s office, and I thought, ‘How can our warehouse be that full?’” said Diane Arneth, the executive director of Community Health Action of Staten Island, a health and social services nonprofit, which runs a pantry with a large warehouse in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In the early days of the pandemic, the warehouse became disorganized as food deliveries increased exponentially. Staff members there had reached out to several local grocery stores to learn tips about storage management, but the shutdown stymied communications. Eventually, the warehouse workers simply learned by doing.

As distribution shifted outside to follow social distancing protocols, the warehouse needed new equipment. Grant money was used to buy a carport, heaters, tables, chairs, tents, tarps and walkie-talkie sets. But the two electric pallet jacks were probably the nonprofit’s most important investment, said George Barreto, the director of pantry operations.

“Sometimes it would take us hours to unload the food from the truck,” he said. “Now it’s been cut in half.”

In the Bronx, the Rev. Emaeyak Ekanem’s pantry suddenly became one of the largest distribution sites in the borough.

“We initially didn’t know what to do when these large trailers came with all this food,” Mr. Ekanem said. “The learning curve to run an operation this size was very steep.”

Fortunately, the National Guard swooped in for a few months to help run his pantry, which is sponsored by Christ Disciples International Ministries. He learned how to divide his pool of volunteers to work in shifts so that the line moved quickly. He also formed a team to collect data from pantry clients, and bought a walk-in refrigerator and forklift. But he would still like a conveyor belt to move deliveries to the church basement for storage. Right now volunteers are using a wooden plank.

Upgrades at various pantries come from private donations and through grant funding from larger nonprofits. Food Bank for New York City said it was spending $14 million to strengthen its member network. City Harvest has more than doubled its annual grant budget to $430,000.

St. John’s Bread and Life, an emergency food service nonprofit in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, has spent about $250,000 to increase capacity. It is finishing an upgrade of its refrigeration, which includes a new 20-foot cold-storage unit bought with the help of City Harvest funds, according to Sister Caroline Tweedy, the executive director. Electrical upgrades were made to its building and pass-through windows installed to provide contact-free food distribution. There are also plans to buy a box truck and expand the operation’s mobile pantry services.

Mr. Matos, of Holding Hands, is concerned about mounting costs. He said it had been tough coming up with money to pay for an exterminator so the church parking lot isn’t overrun by rodents. He usually needs six tanks of gas per week to operate the forklift, nicknamed “50/50,” as it starts up only half of the time. “I try not to show how worried I get about the operational side of things,” he said.

Increased demand has also meant neighborly grievances. When the food line at Holding Hands got longer, area residents and businesses complained to the police and to Mr. Matos about the noise and the mess people left behind. Restaurant owners complained about lines — sometimes 10-plus blocks long — snaking past their outdoor seating.

As evening approached, and Mr. Matos walked down the street collecting trash, he stopped when he saw a plastic bag filled with orange goop.

“That’s not good,” Mr. Matos said, looking a bit defeated. “That’s the shrimp bisque we distributed last week.”


How Covid Turned Food Pantries Into ‘Mini-Costcos’

As the sun set on a recent Saturday afternoon, Joel Matos fist-bumped and thanked the dozen or so volunteers who were leaving the outdoor food pantry he runs out of a church parking lot on the border of Sunset Park and Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Then Mr. Matos, the founder and director of Holding Hands Ministries, quietly gazed at the pallets of canned goods and produce, and the mound of cardboard boxes that still needed to be cleared. Only five volunteers remained, including him and his wife.

“This is when I start to get scared,” Mr. Matos said. He then sent a bat-signal emoji to a friend, asking for help.

Mr. Matos, who also works Monday through Friday for the New York Police Department, said he would text a few more people during his dinner break. Otherwise, he and his skeletal crew would likely end up working until 9 or 10 that night.

The good news is that there’s plenty of food being distributed to the city’s hungry, about 1.6 million people, according to the Food Bank for New York City, a nonprofit that does a lot of the distributing. This means that smaller food pantries on the receiving end are bursting at the seams with products but struggling without the infrastructure to store and share them.

At the height of the pandemic, about 40 percent of the city’s 800 or so soup kitchens and pantries closed permanently, according to Leslie Gordon, the Food Bank’s president. The places that remained open became de facto hubs, expanding their hours and receiving larger and more frequent deliveries, practically becoming “mini-Costcos” overnight, said Mariana Silfa, of City Harvest, another nonprofit that distributes goods to locations across New York.

“Suddenly, everyone needed extra everything, like forklifts, pallet jacks and refrigerators,” Ms. Silfa said.

Now it is not uncommon to hear words like “warehouse optimization” and “streamlined inventory management” from the staffs at these small pantries, many of which are distributing 60 percent more food than they were in 2019, according to the Food Bank for New York City.

“There was a day when I saw bags of sweet potatoes stacked in our nurse’s office, and I thought, ‘How can our warehouse be that full?’” said Diane Arneth, the executive director of Community Health Action of Staten Island, a health and social services nonprofit, which runs a pantry with a large warehouse in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In the early days of the pandemic, the warehouse became disorganized as food deliveries increased exponentially. Staff members there had reached out to several local grocery stores to learn tips about storage management, but the shutdown stymied communications. Eventually, the warehouse workers simply learned by doing.

As distribution shifted outside to follow social distancing protocols, the warehouse needed new equipment. Grant money was used to buy a carport, heaters, tables, chairs, tents, tarps and walkie-talkie sets. But the two electric pallet jacks were probably the nonprofit’s most important investment, said George Barreto, the director of pantry operations.

“Sometimes it would take us hours to unload the food from the truck,” he said. “Now it’s been cut in half.”

In the Bronx, the Rev. Emaeyak Ekanem’s pantry suddenly became one of the largest distribution sites in the borough.

“We initially didn’t know what to do when these large trailers came with all this food,” Mr. Ekanem said. “The learning curve to run an operation this size was very steep.”

Fortunately, the National Guard swooped in for a few months to help run his pantry, which is sponsored by Christ Disciples International Ministries. He learned how to divide his pool of volunteers to work in shifts so that the line moved quickly. He also formed a team to collect data from pantry clients, and bought a walk-in refrigerator and forklift. But he would still like a conveyor belt to move deliveries to the church basement for storage. Right now volunteers are using a wooden plank.

Upgrades at various pantries come from private donations and through grant funding from larger nonprofits. Food Bank for New York City said it was spending $14 million to strengthen its member network. City Harvest has more than doubled its annual grant budget to $430,000.

St. John’s Bread and Life, an emergency food service nonprofit in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, has spent about $250,000 to increase capacity. It is finishing an upgrade of its refrigeration, which includes a new 20-foot cold-storage unit bought with the help of City Harvest funds, according to Sister Caroline Tweedy, the executive director. Electrical upgrades were made to its building and pass-through windows installed to provide contact-free food distribution. There are also plans to buy a box truck and expand the operation’s mobile pantry services.

Mr. Matos, of Holding Hands, is concerned about mounting costs. He said it had been tough coming up with money to pay for an exterminator so the church parking lot isn’t overrun by rodents. He usually needs six tanks of gas per week to operate the forklift, nicknamed “50/50,” as it starts up only half of the time. “I try not to show how worried I get about the operational side of things,” he said.

Increased demand has also meant neighborly grievances. When the food line at Holding Hands got longer, area residents and businesses complained to the police and to Mr. Matos about the noise and the mess people left behind. Restaurant owners complained about lines — sometimes 10-plus blocks long — snaking past their outdoor seating.

As evening approached, and Mr. Matos walked down the street collecting trash, he stopped when he saw a plastic bag filled with orange goop.

“That’s not good,” Mr. Matos said, looking a bit defeated. “That’s the shrimp bisque we distributed last week.”


How Covid Turned Food Pantries Into ‘Mini-Costcos’

As the sun set on a recent Saturday afternoon, Joel Matos fist-bumped and thanked the dozen or so volunteers who were leaving the outdoor food pantry he runs out of a church parking lot on the border of Sunset Park and Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Then Mr. Matos, the founder and director of Holding Hands Ministries, quietly gazed at the pallets of canned goods and produce, and the mound of cardboard boxes that still needed to be cleared. Only five volunteers remained, including him and his wife.

“This is when I start to get scared,” Mr. Matos said. He then sent a bat-signal emoji to a friend, asking for help.

Mr. Matos, who also works Monday through Friday for the New York Police Department, said he would text a few more people during his dinner break. Otherwise, he and his skeletal crew would likely end up working until 9 or 10 that night.

The good news is that there’s plenty of food being distributed to the city’s hungry, about 1.6 million people, according to the Food Bank for New York City, a nonprofit that does a lot of the distributing. This means that smaller food pantries on the receiving end are bursting at the seams with products but struggling without the infrastructure to store and share them.

At the height of the pandemic, about 40 percent of the city’s 800 or so soup kitchens and pantries closed permanently, according to Leslie Gordon, the Food Bank’s president. The places that remained open became de facto hubs, expanding their hours and receiving larger and more frequent deliveries, practically becoming “mini-Costcos” overnight, said Mariana Silfa, of City Harvest, another nonprofit that distributes goods to locations across New York.

“Suddenly, everyone needed extra everything, like forklifts, pallet jacks and refrigerators,” Ms. Silfa said.

Now it is not uncommon to hear words like “warehouse optimization” and “streamlined inventory management” from the staffs at these small pantries, many of which are distributing 60 percent more food than they were in 2019, according to the Food Bank for New York City.

“There was a day when I saw bags of sweet potatoes stacked in our nurse’s office, and I thought, ‘How can our warehouse be that full?’” said Diane Arneth, the executive director of Community Health Action of Staten Island, a health and social services nonprofit, which runs a pantry with a large warehouse in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In the early days of the pandemic, the warehouse became disorganized as food deliveries increased exponentially. Staff members there had reached out to several local grocery stores to learn tips about storage management, but the shutdown stymied communications. Eventually, the warehouse workers simply learned by doing.

As distribution shifted outside to follow social distancing protocols, the warehouse needed new equipment. Grant money was used to buy a carport, heaters, tables, chairs, tents, tarps and walkie-talkie sets. But the two electric pallet jacks were probably the nonprofit’s most important investment, said George Barreto, the director of pantry operations.

“Sometimes it would take us hours to unload the food from the truck,” he said. “Now it’s been cut in half.”

In the Bronx, the Rev. Emaeyak Ekanem’s pantry suddenly became one of the largest distribution sites in the borough.

“We initially didn’t know what to do when these large trailers came with all this food,” Mr. Ekanem said. “The learning curve to run an operation this size was very steep.”

Fortunately, the National Guard swooped in for a few months to help run his pantry, which is sponsored by Christ Disciples International Ministries. He learned how to divide his pool of volunteers to work in shifts so that the line moved quickly. He also formed a team to collect data from pantry clients, and bought a walk-in refrigerator and forklift. But he would still like a conveyor belt to move deliveries to the church basement for storage. Right now volunteers are using a wooden plank.

Upgrades at various pantries come from private donations and through grant funding from larger nonprofits. Food Bank for New York City said it was spending $14 million to strengthen its member network. City Harvest has more than doubled its annual grant budget to $430,000.

St. John’s Bread and Life, an emergency food service nonprofit in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, has spent about $250,000 to increase capacity. It is finishing an upgrade of its refrigeration, which includes a new 20-foot cold-storage unit bought with the help of City Harvest funds, according to Sister Caroline Tweedy, the executive director. Electrical upgrades were made to its building and pass-through windows installed to provide contact-free food distribution. There are also plans to buy a box truck and expand the operation’s mobile pantry services.

Mr. Matos, of Holding Hands, is concerned about mounting costs. He said it had been tough coming up with money to pay for an exterminator so the church parking lot isn’t overrun by rodents. He usually needs six tanks of gas per week to operate the forklift, nicknamed “50/50,” as it starts up only half of the time. “I try not to show how worried I get about the operational side of things,” he said.

Increased demand has also meant neighborly grievances. When the food line at Holding Hands got longer, area residents and businesses complained to the police and to Mr. Matos about the noise and the mess people left behind. Restaurant owners complained about lines — sometimes 10-plus blocks long — snaking past their outdoor seating.

As evening approached, and Mr. Matos walked down the street collecting trash, he stopped when he saw a plastic bag filled with orange goop.

“That’s not good,” Mr. Matos said, looking a bit defeated. “That’s the shrimp bisque we distributed last week.”


How Covid Turned Food Pantries Into ‘Mini-Costcos’

As the sun set on a recent Saturday afternoon, Joel Matos fist-bumped and thanked the dozen or so volunteers who were leaving the outdoor food pantry he runs out of a church parking lot on the border of Sunset Park and Bay Ridge, Brooklyn.

Then Mr. Matos, the founder and director of Holding Hands Ministries, quietly gazed at the pallets of canned goods and produce, and the mound of cardboard boxes that still needed to be cleared. Only five volunteers remained, including him and his wife.

“This is when I start to get scared,” Mr. Matos said. He then sent a bat-signal emoji to a friend, asking for help.

Mr. Matos, who also works Monday through Friday for the New York Police Department, said he would text a few more people during his dinner break. Otherwise, he and his skeletal crew would likely end up working until 9 or 10 that night.

The good news is that there’s plenty of food being distributed to the city’s hungry, about 1.6 million people, according to the Food Bank for New York City, a nonprofit that does a lot of the distributing. This means that smaller food pantries on the receiving end are bursting at the seams with products but struggling without the infrastructure to store and share them.

At the height of the pandemic, about 40 percent of the city’s 800 or so soup kitchens and pantries closed permanently, according to Leslie Gordon, the Food Bank’s president. The places that remained open became de facto hubs, expanding their hours and receiving larger and more frequent deliveries, practically becoming “mini-Costcos” overnight, said Mariana Silfa, of City Harvest, another nonprofit that distributes goods to locations across New York.

“Suddenly, everyone needed extra everything, like forklifts, pallet jacks and refrigerators,” Ms. Silfa said.

Now it is not uncommon to hear words like “warehouse optimization” and “streamlined inventory management” from the staffs at these small pantries, many of which are distributing 60 percent more food than they were in 2019, according to the Food Bank for New York City.

“There was a day when I saw bags of sweet potatoes stacked in our nurse’s office, and I thought, ‘How can our warehouse be that full?’” said Diane Arneth, the executive director of Community Health Action of Staten Island, a health and social services nonprofit, which runs a pantry with a large warehouse in Port Richmond, Staten Island.

In the early days of the pandemic, the warehouse became disorganized as food deliveries increased exponentially. Staff members there had reached out to several local grocery stores to learn tips about storage management, but the shutdown stymied communications. Eventually, the warehouse workers simply learned by doing.

As distribution shifted outside to follow social distancing protocols, the warehouse needed new equipment. Grant money was used to buy a carport, heaters, tables, chairs, tents, tarps and walkie-talkie sets. But the two electric pallet jacks were probably the nonprofit’s most important investment, said George Barreto, the director of pantry operations.

“Sometimes it would take us hours to unload the food from the truck,” he said. “Now it’s been cut in half.”

In the Bronx, the Rev. Emaeyak Ekanem’s pantry suddenly became one of the largest distribution sites in the borough.

“We initially didn’t know what to do when these large trailers came with all this food,” Mr. Ekanem said. “The learning curve to run an operation this size was very steep.”

Fortunately, the National Guard swooped in for a few months to help run his pantry, which is sponsored by Christ Disciples International Ministries. He learned how to divide his pool of volunteers to work in shifts so that the line moved quickly. He also formed a team to collect data from pantry clients, and bought a walk-in refrigerator and forklift. But he would still like a conveyor belt to move deliveries to the church basement for storage. Right now volunteers are using a wooden plank.

Upgrades at various pantries come from private donations and through grant funding from larger nonprofits. Food Bank for New York City said it was spending $14 million to strengthen its member network. City Harvest has more than doubled its annual grant budget to $430,000.

St. John’s Bread and Life, an emergency food service nonprofit in Bedford Stuyvesant, Brooklyn, has spent about $250,000 to increase capacity. It is finishing an upgrade of its refrigeration, which includes a new 20-foot cold-storage unit bought with the help of City Harvest funds, according to Sister Caroline Tweedy, the executive director. Electrical upgrades were made to its building and pass-through windows installed to provide contact-free food distribution. There are also plans to buy a box truck and expand the operation’s mobile pantry services.

Mr. Matos, of Holding Hands, is concerned about mounting costs. He said it had been tough coming up with money to pay for an exterminator so the church parking lot isn’t overrun by rodents. He usually needs six tanks of gas per week to operate the forklift, nicknamed “50/50,” as it starts up only half of the time. “I try not to show how worried I get about the operational side of things,” he said.

Increased demand has also meant neighborly grievances. When the food line at Holding Hands got longer, area residents and businesses complained to the police and to Mr. Matos about the noise and the mess people left behind. Restaurant owners complained about lines — sometimes 10-plus blocks long — snaking past their outdoor seating.

As evening approached, and Mr. Matos walked down the street collecting trash, he stopped when he saw a plastic bag filled with orange goop.

“That’s not good,” Mr. Matos said, looking a bit defeated. “That’s the shrimp bisque we distributed last week.”



Kommentaar:

  1. Rickey

    Deur my is dit nie die beste variant nie

  2. Kigagore

    Jy is nie reg nie. Tik ons ​​sal bespreek. Skryf vir my in PM, ons sal praat.

  3. Arth

    Onvergelykbare frase, ek hou daarvan :)

  4. Daphnis

    Ja, regtig. Dit was en met my. Kom ons bespreek hierdie vraag.

  5. Ea

    Merkwaardig, die baie waardevolle gedagte

  6. Hamdun

    Jou idee sal handig te pas kom



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