It's been years since I have dined
at the Carnegie, first, quite amazed with
what I have been offered for as little
money as I might have had. Still,
it's a place that remains
the best kept secret of our
inner city squalor as if nothing
has changed for the worse
while everything must change
according to the
Western economic model. And,
as the faceless bureaucrats from afar
(like horse thieves of
the wild American West) go on
robbing the most vulnerable
of their own countrymen
using self-serving bills, enforcement,
and repetitious cutbacks
to all social programs
beginning with welfare,
it is only thanks to the gentle
women and men who volunteer
their own invaluable time
that compassion remains the exclusive
property of people, or else
one would have never come across
the people of the Carnegie kitchen.Let me ask you a question,
dear citizen of the Western world.
In the face of the new,
systemic hatred resulting
in wide spread homelessness and
the desperation of so many, how many
of you on the way to dinner would
have the will to
rub shoulders with the motley
crew of prisoners of cocaine,
deprived of hope, and
their prison guarding pushers
who bear the mark of death upon
their darkened faces?
They are the ones
keeping guard at the
entrance for as long as
I can remember.
They've been doing it better than
the Carnegie's own walkie-talking
and rather frightened security.
One ought to have a good reason to
want to pass through the gates
of hell just like Dante did.
The reason being the search for proof
that humanness remains
the sole property of people;
and so, the people
of the Carnegie kitchen
are there mixing such proof
into the proverbial pudding.
That is why they deserve
the best of God's blessing.
It would not be much of a mystery,
I guess, seen from a standpoint of
a staff member, why the Carnegie
kitchen stands out as the only relief
service in this city with
a new-age attitude towards
the feeding of its patrons, and as such,
serving protein food
for the animal lovers known
for not wanting to eat those
whom they consider to be friends.
Garden platters are offered
to our self-proclaimed herbivores
who wouldn't be caught dead
wearing funny looking headgear.
Carnegie's menu offers choice for those
deprived of choice in many other
aspects of their urban lives and
gives back purchasing power
to those who are bright though
otherwise powerless.
Like democracy, which is food
for thought, and like political
freedoms, being the sustenance
for more than the political fringe,
the Carnegie kitchen
provides more than the taste
of normalcy in an
abnormal climate of public
restraint for the governments' gain.
They claim, we are free to believe
in anything we choose but
the legislature.
The ringing sound of porcelain
travels across the floors
of the Carnegie Centre,
making me think of the old trams of
Kraków and their passengers, as colourful
as the regulars of the Carnegie kitchen.
The only difference being
the background sound of my native
tongue, soft and shimmering
as it used to be.
The sounds of the Carnegie kitchen
bring back the memory of home,
no longer far away
from where it used to be.
The people of the Carnegie kitchen
are the ones aiming
for the status of miracle workers
in these hardening times. They come and
then move on to face the challenges of
their personal lives,
thus giving space for the others
to gain similar experience
once in a lifetime.
I dream how much saner
our New World would have been
if stern civil servants, while
still in the making,
could spend a day
behind the counter of
the Carnegie kitchen
where characters are shaped
as gently as the spinach wraps.
And yet I know that it will
never happen since
the timeless defence of
what makes humanity special
depends on those who offer to give
of their own free will.
Such are the people of the Carnegie kitchen,
volunteering invaluable time,
time and again, serving
an exquisite proof
that humanness remains
the sole property of people.
