Let’s go back in time to not too long ago. Winter break is on the horizon. You’re studying for finals when the hunger hits you.

You forgot to pack a lunch—did you even prepare one? Nope. You go to the campus cafeteria and scan every item. Your stomach growls and your eyes lay on the price tags. They’ve hiked up the prices yet again. At a loss, you go to leave in defeat and pause; maybe just a pack of brownies for now. That’ll tide you over.

Spoiler alert: it doesn’t.

Just two hours in, the exam room is dead silent except for your stomach. Screw that final proofread; it’s time for dinner.

Once home, you race to the fridge. Its harsh light illuminates your reality: a jar of pickles, a bottle of soya sauce, two packets of ketchup, and a loaf of bread down to its last butt. Now you remember why you didn’t pack a lunch.

Even with the extra hours you picked up at work and the temporary GST break on food items, you can still barely afford groceries—let alone afford anything healthy. You drag yourself toward the cupboards, knowing it’s getting darker and more difficult to justify braving the elements for the serving size you can afford. It’s cold, you miss the warmth of summer (seasonal depression is very real), and worse still, your stomach keeps making this low rumbling noise.

The cupboard creaks open. Sigh. Ramen it is.

~

We’ve all been here, especially as students. According to the University of Saskatchewan, 29 percent of Canadian students experience food insecurity—a number higher than the national average. To better understand the intensity of Canadian hunger, Statistics Canada categorizes food insecurity as either marginal, moderate, or severe.

Even close calls count. If you find yourself worrying that your groceries won’t last you until your next paycheque or that a balanced breakfast will break the budget, that’s marginal food insecurity.

Making compromises—buying frozen over fresh or putting that fourth box of no-name mac and cheese back despite the deal—could mean that your situation has escalated to moderate food insecurity.

Severe food insecurity becomes evident when you start to ration your soup, skip meals, or “at the most extreme, go day(s) without food” because you genuinely can’t afford to eat.

Data from the 2022 Canadian Income Survey suggests that approximately 22.9 percent of Canadians face food insecurity of some kind.

And again, 29 percent of Canadian students experience food insecurity. Twenty-nine percent. No wonder that psych exam was so tough.

But beyond the big terms and hard statistics, there are people—hungry people—and people wanting to help them. People like Leah Vaisanen, the VIUSU Indigenous Students’ Representative who started the free meal initiative, No Hunger at VIU, to combat hunger.

As someone who has experienced his fair share of dining on sleep for dinner, I decided to look into how people like Leah Vaisanen and the No Hunger at VIU team tackle such an endemic problem.

A trail of posters leads me across campus, like breadcrumbs leading me home. The trail ends at building 355. Walking up the stairs and pushing my way through the familiar doors, I’m greeted by the smell of hot food and the low din of friendly chatter.

Following my senses (and a sudden continuation of breadcrumbed posters) I’m pleased to find a room full of well-fed students. Before I can greet anyone, a voice pulls me to the serving counter.

“Hey, how are you? Can I grab you something to eat?”

“Oh, no, I’m actually here to speak with Leah. I’m with The Nav.”

They know just who I am, but they still offer me a bite to eat. Save it for those who need it, I explain, The Nav keeps me well-fed and somewhat warm. I turn down another kind hearted offer for something to eat just as Leah breaks away from the hardworking group of volunteers making sure there’s enough food to go around.

“Me and my professor Lauren Touchant, we collaborated and developed a plan to share with the dean,” Leah says. Fortunately for us students, Social Sciences Dean Elizabeth Brimacombe approved that plan.

“What’s the goal of this project?” I ask.

I ask what else the program is doing to help curb food insecurity on campus and am reminded that food insecurity is but one symptom of a larger problem. As PROOF explains, food insecurity highlights “pervasive material deprivation” far beyond the contents of one’s refrigerator.

“In addition to hot meals, we provide care packages to students. Those are available every day; we always refill them,” she says. “They’re filled with basic hygiene products and non-perishable items—toothpaste, toothbrushes, soap, deodorant.”

Of course, if students are going without food—one of if not the most basic necessities—it’s likely they’re also compromising on other basic necessities.

“You go to the store now, and deodorant is like twelve dollars,” Leah adds.

“Don’t even get me started,” I say. No, seriously, don’t get me started on the price of a single stick of deodorant.

“It’s insane. And it’s tough. But with that, we also give non-perishable items as well—basics, you know, like spaghetti, rice, and canned foods. Those are always available.”

I ask if this is all put together on No Hunger at VIU’s dime.

“I donated money from my Indigenous Students’ Representative budget to the project to get going,” Leah shares. Now that the program is gaining traction, she’s seeing donations from the faculty. “We actually met with the university last Thursday, and we’re going to be funded to help us keep going. That’s what I wanted at the end of the day, and we got it,” Leah says. “I feel like this is a great initiative.”

To be perfectly clear, Leah is being modest with her assessment. As she speaks, I let my eyes drift back around the room. Tables of friends invite strangers to sit with them. A pair quietly does their homework at one table next to their empty bowls. Someone just in from the cold, still bundled in their winter coat, is eagerly greeted before warming their hands against a steaming bowl of food. A lone woman disassociates, staring at an empty patch of floor as she slowly lifts her next bite of food to her lips. There’s laughter and contentment that fills the room until it boils over. The atmosphere is like one of those lazy afternoons during the holidays, where time stands still and you have nowhere to be but inside and nothing to do but to be. Comfortable is probably a more succinct word, but it’s more than that. It warms the heart.

“My number one goal is to bring community together back on campus,” Leah says. “Because I feel like there’s a disconnection with students and campus life.”

It certainly looks to me like she’s done just that.

~

I checked back in with Leah a few months later.

Winter had come late, a vicious cold snap catching most of us completely off guard. I left class to take the long trek across campus to building 355, where No Hunger at VIU is held every second Wednesday. I was having one of those days. Nothing was going my way. I barely slept the night before, I had forgotten my jacket inside, and I was already running late. The wind pushed and pulled like a bully, and the smell of snow was in it. Worst of all, I had skipped breakfast.

By the time I reached 355 I was in just as bad a mood, except now I was near frozen solid too.

Walking inside, I found that the familiar sounds and smells coming from just ahead had already begun to thaw my frustrations.

The No Hunger at VIU room is bright and welcoming, like a comfortable hearth on a cold day.

Immediately upon entering room 211, I was greeted with a familiar, warm hello. Before I could even state my purpose, I was offered food, somewhere comfortable to sit, prompted to enjoy the movie projected onto the screen at the head of the seating area. The space was bustling—somehow busier than the first time I had visited.

Immersed in the unavoidable smell of home cooking, I suddenly couldn’t remember why my day had been going so poorly.

I finally explained what I was there for. Leah, despite being the busiest body around, still found time for me. She found me sitting at the edge of the room, soaking in the obviously evolved state of community.

“It seems like things are going well?” I said, gesturing to the happy masses around us.

“Things are going very well,” Leah said.

I asked how the initiative has grown since we last talked. Leah told me they are feeding more and more people at every event. And they only plan to keep growing that number.

“I’m in a place in my life where I’m… good,” she said. “I want that for other people too.”

“So, helping people like this never gets old, does it?”

She was incredulous, almost offended. “No, never,” she said. “This is a passion project.”

Over a quarter of Canadian students experience food insecurity. But on our very own campus, thanks to people like Leah and the rest of the wonderful volunteers with No Hunger at VIU, every second Wednesday promises to warm your heart and lighten the load, if even just a little bit.

If you missed out on today’s hot meal and movie, you can stop by room 211 of building 355 on Wednesday, March 12, when No Hunger at VIU returns at 11:30 am.

Considering doing your part to combat food insecurity on campus by supporting No Hunger at VIU? You can find their donation bin in building 356 or email politicalstudies.club@viusu.ca to express your interest in volunteering.