Fruit and vegetable crates are stacked in front of organ pipes in the church on Tempelhofer Feld. In one of these boxes is a bunch of green grapes with a red sticker on them: “30 percent off”. But the customers only pay a symbolic euro per purchase and person.
Because every Tuesday, the round church in Tempelhof is converted into the distribution point of the Berliner Tafel, the project is called “Loaf and Soul”. About 200 people come every week, but since the beginning of the war in Ukraine, the helpers have had to calculate even tighter, as more and more people come. More than 40 people help here on a voluntary basis. Depending on the size of the family, the employees at the stands pack smaller boxes half full or full.
But volunteers do more than just pass food across the table. They try to find out more about their situation in short conversations with the guests so that they can better help: “Would you like eggs? Cheese too?” They are not always understood. A bearded man shows two shrink-wrapped cards: “2 adults, 1 child” is written on them. He does not speak German.
Many newcomers, one translator
This is one of 46 “Loaf and Soul” distribution points in Berlin. Anyone who can prove a low income and one of the five postal codes around is allowed to come. The helpers also get the donations in kind from the area so as not to compete with other distribution points and also because of the shorter distances. After all, they have to pick up the things first.
“In the last three weeks we had 50 new registrations,” says Lydia Schmuck, holding the registration forms in her hand that she has just counted. The retired social worker has been involved here since 2006, preparing on Mondays and following up on Wednesdays. About half of the newly registered people are from Ukraine, at the moment the Ukrainian passport is still sufficient as proof of need. Luckily, a Ukrainian has been found to translate for the newcomers. “They help me, so I help them,” says Mariia Schwarz, who moved to Berlin from Odessa four years ago.
Volkmar Otto
Mariia Schwarz translates for the refugees.
Schwarz also goes to the table since her parents fled and stayed with her. She lives in the area and has agreed to explain to Ukrainian women how registration and distribution works: a signature for some expired groceries, no self-service, distance and a mask. Corona is not over here yet. Werner Pietzsch points this out at the entrance. “Some don’t see it and then the mask hangs down again. When Corona was still critical, we could only let ten people in,” he says. In the meantime, he lets in when hardly anyone is standing at the first stand.
Coffee party in front of the door
The panels are actually a place where people meet and sometimes make friends. A couple who met here even got married, says Schmuck. New acquaintances are no longer made in the café, but outside while waiting. A letter system is used to assign times between 2 p.m. and 3:30 p.m., which then rotate every week. If you have important doctor’s appointments or other reasons, you can come at 1:30 p.m. Nevertheless, a line forms.
Volkmar Otto
Lydia Schmuck has been helping at the issuing office for 16 years.
Quiet pensioners with shopping trolleys, mothers with prams, slumped figures, but also chatting people in their mid-fifties are standing in front of the church. Janina is waiting on a stone barrier in front of the church with Walter and Egon, whom she knows from Tuesdays here. The three did not want to give their real names. Photos? Under no circumstance. “A lot of people are embarrassed to come here. But we can absorb that quite well,” says Schmuck. Some cry when they first come here. Admitting that you can’t do it alone is difficult at first, but that’s what the issuing office is there for, says Schmuck.
In addition to his financial situation, Walter also comes because of the people you meet here. Since the café closed, they make their party in front of the door, using the coffee they have brought with them. If Janina’s turn is at 2 p.m., she expects to be home by 4 p.m. Recently, this has sometimes been postponed, also because of the new registrations.
Relationships inevitably develop over the years, she looks forward to seeing each other and if someone is missing, she worries, says Janina. “We come to terms with it and don’t let it spoil our good mood. It’s give and take,” says the single mother. The acquaintances from the queue also help her with technical problems at home.
The three have to go shopping anyway, that’s the way it’s supposed to be. But lately, noticeably fewer donations have been made. Sometimes she tries new things because of the offer. “You have to be creative,” she says.
Schmuck never knows exactly what donations she can count on. “Most of the time it’s enough. But we also divide up,” she says. Sometimes fewer people come to church than expected – what’s left is taken by people from food sharing. It is very important to Schmuck to counteract food waste with her work. “It gets difficult for us sometimes,” she says. “But on the other hand, it’s good that the big corporations are now buying less.”