I like to
eat and eat well. I savor food; it is
true it usually takes me longer to eat than those around me. Hey, Flavor is important. The experience of food is more than just an
act of consumption. There is something
about good food that is satisfying in more than just a physical dimension. Good food nourishes the soul. Good flavor fosters good feelings and good
times. Access to good food is access to
a reinforcement of our sense of security.
Enjoying good food freely is a reminder of our innate right to health
and happiness; it is the first step toward any sense of comfort.
Yet, over
three billion souls worldwide live daily without direct access to good,
wholesome food. Living in conditions
where the logistics of delivery may be compromised by crumbling infrastructure
or open warfare; or where paucity of agricultural production may be so under-recognized
that help is not at the ready, many people dwell constantly under the shadow of
doubt as to where their next meal will be coming from. Many children are growing up in this state of
mind and body.
The
Archdiocese of Atlanta on Friday, June 3, hosted the Starve Wars meal packing
event at the International Congress Center in College Park. Session 1 was from 9:00 - 10:30 in the
morning; session 2 was 11:00 - 12:30. The
goal of the event was to get 650 good hearted folks together and pack 100,000
meals to help alleviate starving conditions in the country of Burkina Faso in
Africa. DAP Tales and I, along with the
strapping young Mr. Adrian came on in for Session 2 at 11:00. We're not necessarily morning people; you
won't catch us milkin' no cows as the rooster crows nor collectin' the morning
eggs. Those eggs would probably be
hatched, if it was riding on us. Still,
we wanted to do our part, so thanks to the Starve Wars planning commission for
having the were-with-al to accommodate us late risers. Even with the later start time, though, we
didn't quite make time beforehand to eat anything ourselves, so as time slid
forward, it became something of a starve war on more than just one front. But we were there to do what we were there to
do, so that, my friends, is just what we did.
We donned
ID stickers (expected) and hair nets (necessary for food safety and quite
dashing, at least on Mr. Adrian) and were shown to our work station. Upbeat music echoed through the cavernous
conference hall, where dozens of rows of tables had been staged for the
assembly line-like operation. I don't
know how many people of the intended 650 were there but it seemed like it was
probably pretty close. And everybody was
already going at it, full tilt so we joined in.
Working together in small groups at the tables, we put vitamin packs,
soy flour, seasonings and rice in the packing bags, each bag being one ready to
cook meal. Runners busily scooped up
full trays of bags, delivering them to the weight-check tables where they would
be weight-approved, then sealed for shipping.
We kept the packs rolling.
Runners appeared from nowhere, refilling our rice bins and other
supplies, adeptly whisking away to other tables, keeping everyone stocked up
and topped off. Counters processed the
sealed bags for bulk packing in preparation for their long journey and
tabulated the team's progress; each 1000 bags processed elicited a strike of a
gong from the head of the room. The
reverberations of the brass gong spread out shrilly over the sounds of Michael
Jackson, Frankie Beverly and Maze, Justin Timberlake, Selena Gomez, Kool and
the Gang, Flo Rida. Runners were running
around like crazy, weight checkers were raising their hands for more bags;
hands were scooping rice and seasonings like nobody's business. And everybody was just smiling like it was
Christmas. I had been a supervisor at a
few production plants for a number of years; where had all these happy workers
been hiding out all my professional life?
Oh, Well...
We met Mark for the first time as a member of our work station crew; an extremely nice guy there with his family. His wife and daughter were at another table but his son, whom was no taller probably than my knee and soooo eager to help, was right there in the mix. I kid you not: Mark knew every church by name and address and every priest by name and SSN. He is an environmental scientist, which made for some good conversation for Dap Tales (she's all about the green, Green, Super Green). I took a look over at Mr. Adrian at his adjoining table; he and his crew were all into the work, man. Everyone was just pushing out the packs. My stomach was grumbling. The seasoning kept sending wafts of tantalizing aromas up my nose -- Starve Wars, man. Starve Wars.
The ringing call of the gong seemed to get more frequent as the pitch of progress became more intense, everyone driving their best towards getting 100,000 meals ready to be delivered to those needy people overseas. At this point, what with not having eaten and my head swimming with delicious seasoning smells, I was sympathetic; like, strongly sympathetic to my brothers and sisters across the pond. Let's get this food made, man; let's get this food made. Gongs were going off; an announcer was calling out tallies and offering motivational sentiments over the PA. Music had everybody bobbing and swaying and working. Supplies started running scarce. A runner came by to get some of our bags. A crew member from another table came through to bogart some of our rice. Things were gettin' tight. We needed some bags; someone gave us a handful from another table that was closing up shop. We weren't stopping for nothin'. Gong. Just a few more bags… Runners running back and forth; rice and stuff going back and forth… Seasoning aromas, back and forth… Gong. Suddenly the voice of the announcer called out "That's One Hundred Thousand! Thank you, everybody!", and a cheer went up from the crowd. Great! We did it! And I never saw so many smiling faces on an assembly line before.
As happy
as we were to eat, (once we left the event) I honestly wasn't any happier than
we had been to know someone else would now get that same chance, who might not
have. We get to eat, to feel secure, to
enjoy that calming of the hunger pang and other folks would too, now, because
people wanted to make that happen. It
doesn't take much; a little time, a little exercise; a few happy feelings among
happy people on a Friday morning. The
world gets happier and more fulfilled -- one bag of rice at a time.
Click here to find out more about Starve Wars and the Archdiocese's programs to combatworld hunger.
Victory Over Starve Wars:
Ranchero, Ranchero, Mucho Bueno!
So, if
you've read the post on our adventure at the Archdiocese of Atlanta's Starve
War event, you know how desperate we were to get something succulent into our
stomachs once we had left the place. We
had chipped in to help combat hunger halfway around the world, now it was time
to combat hunger here at home, beginning with us! We called out a couple names of places we may
have wanted to go but some were canceled out of consideration due to
prohibitive traffic zones ("We need to eat now!") or whatever (hunger
can make you forget stuff). For whatever
reason, it seemed a taste for Mexican was glued to our collective palates, so
we needed something close to home and south of the border. Once, in a similarly desperate situation late
one evening we had ventured toward Ranchero Mexican Ristorante on Highway 138
in Stockbridge but the place had been way too packed and we would have ended up
waiting, like, 45 minutes for a table, we were told. We bailed in favor of another option that
night but today, with hunger cramping out innards and the promise of
potentially a beat-the-rush type of lunch hour, we decided to give it a go
again. This was not a mistake.
The
Ristorante is tucked into the end of a small strip plaza on Hwy 138, just south
of its junction at I-75. The ambiance
and the people are cool and inviting.
The tables and booths are adorned base-to-top in decorative artwork
demonstrating the agave harvest which I can only presume must be a traditional
theme in Mexico. Hand-painted bas-relief
mixes with full coverage wall paintings to produce a storybook sort of
illustrated atmosphere. A TV mounted
overhead displays a soccer match with the volume down low. The table is soon laden with the traditional
salsa and house tortilla chips.
We ordered
a spinach and queso appetizer, some steak burritos, soft drinks to wash it all
down. I'm not sure what source they are
using to purchase their drinking cups, but if you ever need to eat in a place
where you can have a whole gallon of tea in front of you, this is your
place. This is only a mild
exaggeration. Man, those cups were
huge.
When the
grub showed up, we were ready. The
burritos were piping hot and laden with cooling guacomole, sour cream and pico
de gallo. The steak nestled
tantalizingly inside the tortillas was succulent, juicy and well seasoned. We ate, we drank, we were merry. Maybe we were just extremely hungry, but I
doubt it. If you're ever in the
Stockbridge neck of the woods and you feel the need for a down home, low-key,
tasty, neighborhood ristorante style lunch or dinner, give Ranchero a try. Your stomach may thank you.
