I added my name and number to the NJ Mutual Aid Google Doc when the virus first hit our area, and we knew it was going to be tragic. It was the start of the lockdown, and we didn’t know what it was going to be like, but we understood our most vulnerable communities would be hit hardest, and so we start forming a safety net, building our community, making our connections visible and animated.
Back in April, I did a shopping and delivery for a family in Kearney. The organizer of NJ Mutual Aid reached out to me by phone. We had an awesome conversation, and I was invited to join a local Saturday zoom of teachers and artists and was connected to Cosecha for the shopping and delivery. They texted me the shopping list and address and sent me the money through paypal. It was still early in the pandemic before we flattened the curve and shopping in ShopRite was intense, especially for another family because I had to find things and keep track of the budget. But then I was done and was able to make the delivery, and it was lovely. A nice sunny day and a bunch of the family members of all different ages came out and helped unload the car.
Then it was quiet from Cosecha for months. In the meantime, I joined the mutual aid zoom which magically morphed into a dreamy May Day Committee that organized a motorcade in Newark to spread the message that capitalism is the disease and spread power to the workers. Those of us organizing flyered on the route before the march. We spent several meetings debating and designing the flyer and was able to fit the history of May Day, a critique of capitalism, an explanation of communism, and next steps all on a piece of 8 1/2 by 11 paper. The day I was flyering, I was also delivering flyers to some comrades. One was at the Panther food distribution on South Orange Ave and 7th Street. It was awesome. The Panthers were all wearing their blue tee-shirts, black logo and font, tables and boxes taking over the sidewalk and folks would drive by and pick up a box of vegetables. Like a drive-thru. It was popping and the energy high. Even a fire fighter raised their fist to the Panthers.
Then as soon as the semester ended I got sick. And was home as everyone else was taking to the streets in mighty protest. I even missed the big one in Newark, opening rally not a mile from my house. Didn't even know it was happening until the next day. Maybe if I hadn’t been hit with a wave of exhaustion that afternoon after going to the farmer’s market and planting mint in the backyard as I listened to a book group discuss Emergent Strategies, I would've known. While thousands marched, I napped deeply.
And then I got better and started following my social media and checking my ECC email that gets the POP updates. I went to the POP rally on June 8 but had to leave before the energy of the rally erupted into a march down Broad Street past City Hall to Military Park. I went to the Newark Water Coalition’s Black Lives Matter Mutual Aid March where they harvested vegetables from the community garden and distributed the vegetables, water, and baby supplies as we took over all four lanes of Clinton Ave in the South Ward.
And then today, I get a text from Cosecha asking if I can do deliveries, I said yes but I had to be back home to Newark for a 2pm meeting. They texted me the address to the mosque. I got there at 11am, but Cosecha wasn’t there yet. The sister who let me in chatted briefly and offered me dates. When I only took one, she said I could take more. I didn’t but in retrospect I wish I had. In the big room with wood floors and many windows were 56 shopping bags of vegetables. Heavy. Squash, yams, scallions, onions, lettuce, swiss chard. In the back of the room were still stacks of boxes to make more bags. I was given my list quickly—while I waited I helped divide the big bags of scallions into three smaller bags and chatted with someone from the Newark Water Coalition. He was the one who made me realize I wanted to write a quick post about my activisms during the lockdown. We both agreed the importance of highlighting how the Newark Water Coalition March was also distributing food that they had just harvested from a community garden.
I have never done just deliveries before so I had no idea when I was given a list of 21 addresses on a spreadsheet print-out, and my station wagon 100% filled with the 21 bags, and sent on my way with instructions to call the number, and if they’re not there, just move on to the next one, that I had a full day’s work driving on the side streets of a part of Jersey I’d never been before.
Other than that, the operation was tight. Cosecha wasn’t sure why they were so short on drivers this time. Maybe because a lot of the drivers are teachers and doing end of year graduation. Maybe because it was in a different neighborhood. People don’t always like going out of their comfort zone. I was given a carefully designed list of addresses that started with the one closest to the mosque and then navigated me around Union City and North Bergen in a logical way. All the addresses and all the numbers were correct.
My process for delivery was consistent. I would first plug the address into my phone to see how far away it was. Then I would call the number to make sure they were home and ready for the delivery. Sometimes the person who answered spoke English just about as good as I speak Spanish and so we would have these lovely conversations in both languages. Hablo espanol muy male. Laughter on both ends. The first time I made a call and the machine answered, the message was in Spanish. I used google translate to figure out how to say food delivery and texted “quiero entregena de comida ahora? gratis. de la mosque.” And I waited about five seconds and called back. They answered, and I made the delivery.
Time moved easily but a little too fast. It was just after 1pm, and I was only a third a way through my list and had to head back home to Newark for the zoom. I got a text from Cosecha, checking in, which I appreciated. They agreed that 21 was a lot of bags and said I could finish deliveries tomorrow.
I was very hungry and craving pizza. I missed my entrance to the turnpike and had to loop through Union City again driving my station wagon with the karma of the volunteer and swag of a grand prix. Really hoped Robert’s was reopened as we are slowly coming out of lockdown. I called when I got to Newark. They were. I asked for two slices, they only had one left. I took it. Found parking nearby, money still in the meter. I was famished and wanted to order something else—they had lasagna but won’t have meatball subs until next week.
I was almost ten minutes late to the meeting. Caught the tail end of something important to me, which immediately solidified my commitment to attending. How might colleges of humanities and social sciences reimagine what we do or make more visible what we do in terms of our role in producing a kind of student who knows how to create a system for delivering food during the economic fallout of a global pandemic during late capitalism. Not that you need a college degree to do that. But often times it is in college where we gain access to the ideas and meaning-making as a process of freedom, community, and love that is part of laying a foundation for radical resistance to oppression. And, here I’m not talking about the ivy and liberal arts elites with the handful of scholarships. I am talking about the public universities in cosmopolitan centers with students from all different classes and races and abilities and genders and cultures and languages some of us may have never even heard of. Students who are pursuing the American Dream even as anxiety rises that what we're chasing may be a nightmare we don’t have the words or confidence to name because the K-12 Common Core hasn’t found a multiple choice option for that.
After the meeting, I drove back to the mosque. I decided I would do another seven deliveries. Before heading out, I texted myself the addresses and phone numbers for each delivery. That way, I wouldn’t have to manually enter the data while on the road. I was texting with someone who said they would pick up my extra bags, but when I called it turned out she had 30 and hadn’t even gotten on the road until 3pm because she had been packing bags. Everyone at the mosque was so understanding. I’m trying to respect my boundaries and be gentle with people in the process. I was apologetic, but also explained, I had never done this before so I had no idea the time commitment 21 bags would take, and I only knew about it this morning. I also spoke to Cosecha who also totally understood. I explained I had a busy work day tomorrow. They asked me to spread the word if anyone could do deliveries tomorrow. I did. So far no takers though. One of the reasons I wanted to write this is to make visible a process of being involved in mutual aid projects. Stories are one way to make the unknown familiar.
The second seven went very different. There were a lot more no answers. One delivery wanted to go through the bag and only take what she wanted. I said no, I have too many deliveries to accomodate like that. She was like maybe I could give it to a neighbor. I said exactly. I still did my thing of the phone call; if no answer then a text in the language of the voicemail; then follow up phone call. People didn’t answer the follow-up phone calls but then started calling me back. So it did get a little hectic and I wish I had a better system for taking notes on the spreadsheet. But it worked out fine. One person asked if someone else was on the list. She wasn’t but because of the no answers I had extra bags, so I was able to deliver one to her. People were sweet. Oftentimes waiting at the door so the delivery could go quick. Sometimes people were at work so they’d text me the number of the family member at home. Sometimes I could tell the bag of food was arriving just at the right magical moment. The mood was appreciative not desperate at all. I must say I am worried about our already vulnerable communities as the impact of the lockdown on our economy continues to manifest. I am glad I am in communities teaching me the different ways to organize food deliveries.
Ways to Deliver Food to the Community:
Individual Shopping and Delivery
Pre-bagged vegetables Delivery
Pre-bagged vegetables pick-up location
Distribution of vegetables during march through neighborhoods
Things I still need to learn:
When we don’t grow the food ourselves, where do we get the food? Is it donated or is it bought using cash donations?
How do we get the list of families who want food deliveries?
How do we recruit volunteers?
How do we get the bags for the deliveries?
When I got home, I still had two bags in my car. I went across the street where a bunch of neighbors were hanging out and asked if anyone wanted a bag of food. One person did. So then there was one left. I went inside, heated up the rest of the lasagna and my phone rang. It was someone calling me back. She had been a work. But she’d be home all day tomorrow. I decided I would make one more trip out to Union City between my two scheduled zooms to deliver her her bag of vegetables.
And then I get a phone call just now from someone who got two bags delivered asking if I could come by and pick one up. I was like, I’m just a volunteer, got a phone call this morning asking if I could help out, but now I am back home in Newark. I was like you can be part of the effort—maybe you have a neighbor. Also, I was remembering being at the farmers market last Saturday, my friend giving me a bunch of swiss chard I was reluctant to take. She was like just saute it up and freeze it. So I suggested that she could make extra food and freeze it. Or make a soup. We laughed as I said people tell me to do that, but then I never get around to it, the swiss chard still there almost a week later. I guess I have a busy cooking day tomorrow too. As we hope our abundance doesn’t go to waste.
