‘What does poverty look like?’ Hundreds turn to Rock Hill food pantry during pandemic
An elderly man stumbled along the sidewalk on a mid-December Saturday in the parking lot behind Rock Hill’s Pathways Community Center. He balanced on a walker. A thin cardigan barely covered his leathery skin as he shivered from the morning’s near-freezing temperature. His right forearm was encased in a no-longer-white cast. An oxygen tube dangled from his nose.
He was homeless.
He was walking (as best he could) to get food at The Manna House Pantry, at the Christian-based nonprofit building on Cherry Road. Every Saturday from 8 a.m. to 11 a.m., dozens of volunteers package and distribute about a week’s worth of food to those in York County who need it.
From its inception in 2006, the pantry had grown to serve about 125 families a week, and in April, it relocated to the Pathways building to better accommodate its self-service structure and growing numbers. Then, the pandemic hit.
“What we thought we were going to do and the way we thought we were going to be able to serve, everything changed,” president Sandra Evans told The Herald.
So, the pantry adjusted and adopted a drive-up structure, and for the homeless, a grab-and-go structure.
But in all its years assisting through struggles and hard times, the pantry hadn’t seen anything like the COVID-19 pandemic. The number of families who have turned to The Manna House Pantry in the last nine months has nearly doubled, proving just how hard the pandemic has hit York County.
Now, the pantry serves about 300 families a week, and during the holidays, they expect the numbers to keep going up. The nonprofit does follow federal guidelines, but anyone who is in need can come — volunteers “don’t turn anybody away,” Evans said.
“What does poverty look like?” Evans said. “We think we know, but we have people who drive up and they have decent cars. That doesn’t mean that you haven’t made your car payment last month because you lost your job. It means, ‘Look, I’m just trying to hold on.’ Then, we have clients who come in and the backseat of their car has all their personal belongings in it. They are living out of their cars.”
‘It’s eye-opening’
The number of homeless individuals, who the pantry refers to as “walk-ups,” also has doubled. The pantry used to see 9-10 walk-ups every Saturday. Now, they prepare enough bags, filled with nonperishable items, for 20-30. And the pantry’s vice president Harold Aubert guesses the city’s year-old free bus system has something to do with it.
“People can get on this bus and they know they can come here to get some food,” Aubert said, pointing to the line of about five walk-ups that had formed.
Near the end of the line, the elderly man was approaching. Other walk-ups had come and gone in the time it took him to walk to the line, and Evans’ grandson, Noah Evans, who’s been volunteering there since he was 10, took notice.
Noah, now 20, jogged over.
He gently approached the man: “Hi, sir, can I help you?” The man nodded and smiled. Noah checked the man’s information and handed him a full brown paper bag.
“Have a good one!” Noah said, smiling. The man rested the bag on his walker and began his trek back down the sidewalk.
Noah and another volunteer quickly worked to get several walk-ups checked in and a bag, but the line kept growing.
“You’re seeing a lot more families that you honestly would not expect,” Noah said. “You see those who don’t have homes. You see those who can’t provide for themselves easily. Now, we’re starting to see families who are just losing their jobs. It’s eye-opening.”
‘Pray for us’
Across the parking lot, there was the drive-up side. A line of five cars had formed, which was what volunteers referred to as “slow.” An assembly line of volunteers, most wearing Manna House T-shirts, unpacked overflowing shopping carts and loaded it in the cars’ trunks.
A dark green pick-up truck pulled to the front of the line. “How you doing today?” volunteer Billy Truesdale said, waving and smiling at the driver. His voice echoed through the parking lot.
A Christmas tree took up most of the truck’s bed, but Truesdale would make everything fit. He picked up a turkey from a cart. Then, a pack of dinner rolls. Volunteer Sonny Jackson joined. Jackson grabbed a pork loin. Then, potatoes. Bananas. Cupcakes. Apples. Canned chicken. Pastries.
“This is enough food to feed four people for a week,” Aubert said.
As each car drove through the line, Truesdale tried to joke and laugh with the passengers.
“Some people come with this stigma,” he said. “They want to be like, ‘I don’t need anything.’ So, it’s just not to stigmatize them more by just making them laugh. I want to let them know that ‘Hey, we’re here and we’re praying for you.’ And pray for us.”
‘Come full circle’
Truesdale and Jackson attended the elementary school that was housed in the Pathways building before it closed during desegregation. They’ve “come full circle,” Truesdale said.
“While we’re out here, we kind of reminisce on the old times — how we used to be back in the day,” Jackson, 75, said. “We were kind of devilish and we’ll talk about how the principal, he used to spank our tails.”
Truesdale laughed.
They’ve both been volunteering at the pantry since the start. In 2006, the pantry began as a clothing ministry at the Mount Prospect Baptist Church, but members quickly saw a greater need for food, so they started serving families out of the church’s fellowship hall. The pantry grew to develop partnerships with Second Harvest Food Bank Metrolina and Food Lion Feeds, and in 2017, it became an official nonprofit.
“There are people who actually line up at this gate at 5:30, 6:30 in the morning,” Aubert said. “At one time when we were at the church on Black Street, people used to line up at 11:30 at night just to be the first in line. Because of this pandemic you wouldn’t believe how many people are coming through.”
‘Start all over again Monday’
But what goes on inside the pantry’s building is just as — if not, more — important than what goes on outside. There’s multiple rooms filled to the brim with food. Shelves are lined with crackers, granola bars, cereal, canned beans and meat. Another assembly line of volunteers stock the shopping carts, track inventory and once the carts have been filled with enough food, volunteers run them outside, only to bring them back empty a few minutes later.
Everything that’s packaged for Saturday’s distribution is usually gone by closing time, and sometimes, if it’s really busy, volunteers have to turn to one of the extra rooms for more supplies.
“What is out there, it’s probably gone at the end of the day,” Aubert said. “Then, we start all over again Monday morning at 9 o’clock. We are the only pantry in York County that a person can come to and you get this much food.”
Near the end of the Saturday distribution, a car pulled in and honked. “Merry Christmas!” the driver, dressed as Santa Claus, shouted. The volunteers laughed and waved. There was an immediate energy boost throughout the parking lot. As Santa traveled through the line, he continued to shout “Merry Christmas!” and the volunteers continued to smile. He wasn’t just there to cheer on the volunteers.
He needed food.
Those who want to donate to the pantry can visit The Manna House’s website.
This story was originally published December 25, 2020 at 9:41 AM.
