By Satchi Thockchom
It’s a brisk, overcast autumn morning -- stiff legs peel reluctantly out of their beds, buses lurch to their stops, and Berkeley begins to bustle. Through the cold and cloudy hues, warmth pours out of the Berkeley Organic Market. Smells of baking pita bread and sounds of Yemeni dance music beckon passersby in.
On the corner of College and Ashby, this family-owned grocery store strives to be as sustainably sourced as possible while cultivating a sense of community with customers, suppliers, farmers, and store workers. Shelves are stocked with baked cookies dropped off by vendors living down the street; the kitchen is slinging vegan soups and wraps for their regulars; babies are given bananas before being pointed toward the nearby children’s library.
At the heart and soul of the store are the Alsaid brothers, Hafez and Ahmed. Hafez’s buzzing, warm and playful charisma, plus Ahmed’s boyish charm and contagious laughter land them frequent articles in BerkeleySide, catering requests for milestone family events, and personal discounts at neighboring businesses. The brotherly love they hold for each other spills over to all who set foot into their store, and me, as a regular customer turned coworker.
I have had the absolute pleasure of working with them, and in my few months there, Berkeley Organic Market has emerged as a symbol of love for one’s environment, one’s community, and, by extension, one’s self.
Hafez Alsaid (Photo by Sadie Radinsky)
Environment
As a store owner promising healthful food, Hafez holds a wealth of lived and learned knowledge when it comes to sustainable, quality produce. He juxtaposes his experiences growing up in a village in Yemen with the American food system he is now intimately embedded in. He laments that, since moving here, he has had “a really hard time eating fruit because [he knows] what it’s supposed to taste like.” In America, the culture of quantity over quality is imperceptible to most, but not to the Alsaids. Growing up with kitchen gardens and cows around the corner, Hafez and Ahmed are gifted –and arguably cursed– with a heightened sensitivity for freshness. This is, in part, due to the absence of refrigerators, microwaves, and other food preserving instruments in their village. They lived in synchronicity with the seasons. “In the Middle East, you grow up and this season is for figs. So you get figs right then and there then it’s done. There were no refrigerators,” Hafez tells me.
Still, despite his best efforts as store owner, there is no skirting the agro-industrial complex’s inability to produce ethically, sustainably, and affordably while not compromising on quality and freshness. “[In America], you can get anything you want anytime of the year. Don’t you wonder how that happens?”
It’s common to reduce climate solutions to individual actions and ‘voting with your dollar’ rhetoric. But after seeing the scale of Berkeley Organic’s purchasing power in small farms and the local economy, it is so evident that a little goes a long way. Even when customers with budget constraints have to buy the cheaper, more environmentally harmful products, their dollars go towards Berkeley Organic’s larger mission to support ethical, sustainable, and organic local farmers and businesses.
One vision Hafez holds for his customers is to see the supply chain’s nuances and complexities that he sees, and for buyers to truly understand how their food came to be.
Hafez Alsaid (Photo by Sadie Radinsky)
Community
This desire for knowledge and transparency with customers stems from seeing the same sweet faces day in and day out. We know Gary comes in for Acme bread and salad greens, Gia comes in for flowers and wraps, and Jen comes in for apple kombucha. Working in a local, small business instills a deeper sense of connection, and therefore responsibility for customers.
People walk into the store and trust that many of the products have been as sustainably and ethically sourced as they can, while also being as healthy and affordable as they can.
Granted, it is hard to remain affordable when conglomerate Safeways, Whole Foods, and Trader Joe’s continue to drill down market prices at the expense of farmers and small businesses. The Alsaids know that it is hard to compete with such low prices, especially when many here are operating on a college budget. So, they strive to provide a holistic, quality experience for any and all customers. For instance, while it may be hard to stay under $50 for groceries, they provide completely vegan, organic, homemade meals for under $10. We frequently offer and receive recipe recommendations at checkout. I have even seen Hafez stumble into the therapist role after a simple “how are you,” and hang on to the customer’s every word out of genuine curiosity and care.
Berkeley Organic is not just a grocery store. It’s a place where strangers share a meal for forty-five minutes; where elders hand nuggets of knowledge to floundering college undergrads; where my favorite customer, a fourteen year old beagle named Duncan, stops by everyday for a treat. Conversations about sexuality, non-linear career paths, and even evening jam sessions have blossomed from the kitchen counter over bowls of soup. It’s the closest thing I have felt to my own little village, and it warms me to feel the slices of Yemen the Alsaids have created for us.
Self
For all these reasons and more, shopping local has emerged as an act of self love. It is an investment in my body, my time, my nearby community, and my environment at large. So, swing by Berkeley Organic Market for some soup and life lessons on love.