Like a cat not knowing whether to come in or go out, Christine hesitates. She takes a second box of lenses, looks at it, puts it down, leaves the shelf, retraces her steps and grabs it again. It will be his final choice, bringing his donations to two cans, a pack of sanitary napkins and a sachet of pasta. “You understand, the end of the month is difficult for me too,” she justifies herself, almost ashamed of having hesitated.
The lot already has something to delight the volunteers of the Food Banks, on the front of this Lerclerc in the 14th arrondissement since 9 a.m. on this Friday morning. For three days, until Sunday, a national collection is organized in more than 9,000 stores in France, as at the end of November each year. It generally makes it possible to collect more than 20 million meals, that is to say approximately 10% of the figure for the year.
The impact of inflation on donations
10% is also the number of additional people needing help over the last semester, informs Marine, a member of the Food Banks, who is watching in front of the supermarket. Such an increase had taken two years to appear during the Covid years, in 2020 and 2021. More than a tsunami, current inflation therefore looks more like a tide that rises, rises, and that nothing seems to be able to stem. Hunger and precariousness are there, the 130,000 volunteers deployed throughout France as well. There remains a concern: will donations follow despite the purchasing power crisis?
A bit of reluctance won over the volunteers at the start of the morning. “Generally, it’s from 11 am that people flock, and at the end of the day, we’ll see,” hopes Brigitte, responsible for giving out the flyers at the entrance.
Among the volunteers, two tendencies dominate. On the optimistic side, precariousness has never been so publicized and present in political debates, which should encourage people, feeling more concerned, to give massively. On the pessimistic side, the French are already struggling to fill their own fridge, they will be less likely to think of others. “I was at Monoprix before coming, it gives less than usual, it’s worrying but logical”, breathes Henri while sorting the cans collected. We want to look good, but the doubt is there. “There is the fear of having fewer donations than in other years, admits Anaïs, spokesperson for the Food Banks. Even pasta has become expensive, even though it is one of the flagship products of our collections. We are also afraid that people will give lower quality products”.
The generosity of times of crisis
There remains faith in the beautiful surprises and the stories that end well. “We were also afraid during the Covid years, and finally, the donations were there, reassures Marine, draped in her long coat. In times of crisis, people can also show more solidarity. And if there is one person with unshakeable faith, it’s Philippe, another member of the Food Banks. You’re more likely to come across the Yeti or the Loch Ness Monster than a sad look from it. New reason to smile: his cart is slowly but surely filling with products offered. “Before, it was the coronavirus, before that, the ‘yellow vests’… There is always a good reason to be afraid that it won’t work, but we bet on solidarity every year, and every year, the bet is won”.
And it is not this woman offering two packets of biscuits from her own shopping – she had not spotted the presence of the association before – that will make her say the opposite. The justification is clear: “I experienced that too… So it’s normal to give. »
“I know that people need it more than me”
With unfailing optimism – “I’m like that in real life, it’s not just for the press” -, Philippe tells about this other elderly lady who offered a shipment of pasta, the young people in solidarity – “this are not only the old who give”, or this not very well groomed man who provided a good part of his cart. We come close to the cliché of ”Those who have the least give the most”, but a little trust in the collective spirit does not hurt these days.
Christine confides: “I give because I know that people need it much more than me. But just by paying that extra, I’m giving up meat for this weekend” The sanitary napkins were his only purchase above 3 euros, but no hesitation when taking this product. “Can you imagine, the poor ladies who don’t even have that… It must be very disabling. »
“I can’t give more”
Between the shelves, we hear the incessant refrain of inflation: bills that swell, products that become overpriced and fridges that empty. “I give, it’s important all the same, but I took the cheapest products, regrets Thomas. I can’t do more”. Concessions are linked for donors: “I no longer take brands”, “Before, I gave cookies, now it will just be pasta”, “A box of ravioli is always better than nothing, no ? “. We give what we can to those who have even less.
Alice, she does her shopping as a studious student: flyer in hand to take the most relevant products, and organized trolley to separate her donations from her personal purchases. His gray hair and his proud gaze attest to the person who has seen others, but his speech is filled with humility: “I still have the image of the student food queues during the confinements. Today, even working people are hungry and filling these ranks. What does all this mean? I have a good retirement and the chance to have lived at a time when a job was synonymous with a very full belly. I just give back my part by giving a little more than the others”.
It is 11 o’clock, the fateful moment of a first assessment on the side of the volunteers. “It seems to be filling up quite a bit, the carts look better,” Brigitte begins to satisfy herself. Anaïs allows herself a breath of relief that she wouldn’t have had two hours earlier: “We see a lot of canned food, pasta, hygiene products – that’s important too, and people are thinking about it more and more. One month to the day for Christmas, Philippe had assured us: “We are never disappointed by generosity. »