Italians in country’s richest city turn to food banks and pawn shops as Covid cripples economy

More than 5 million are now at risk of poverty in Italy and with many struggling to get government support, the community is banding together like never before. By Federica Marsi

Volunteer stacks shelves at a food bank in Milan (AFP via Getty Images)

The economic repercussions of Italy’s lockdown to contain the coronavirus spun Roberto’s life into a downward spiral. The owner of a security company, the 57-year-old would rub shoulders with international celebrities performing in Milan’s upscale nightclubs and concert venues.

In February, as the pandemic took grip of the northern region of Lombardy and work came to a screeching halt, he lost his partner to cancer and the right to live in her apartment. “I slept a few nights at the central station, I didn’t want to be alone,” said Roberto, who asked to be referred to by his first name.

Milan, Italy’s financial and fashion capital, is one of the wealthiest places on earth. Yet, it succumbed to the first wave of the pandemic, sending other European governments a stark early warning, and it is now grappling with a sweeping poverty outbreak.

An estimated 5.5 million people nationwide have plunged below the risk-of-poverty threshold this year, bringing the number of those experiencing material deprivation to 14 million – almost one in four.

As it contends with a second wave of the virus, Italy’s most affluent city is struggling to stay afloat. Valerio Ferrandi dons a flat cap and a suit coat as he coordinates the distribution of food parcels by the Solidarity Brigades, a platoon of 1,200 volunteers deployed around the city. Each of its 12 local groups bear the name of a partisan who died fighting against the fascist dictatorship of Benito Mussolini.

Roberto is one of the recipients as well as a volunteer delivering boxes of non-perishable food items and hygiene products. The place he calls home is now a convent in the outskirts of the city. “I worked to guarantee the safety of thousands of youth enjoying the nightlife, but where is the state when you need it?” he said. A divorce and a 26-year-old unemployed son depleted his savings, while the pandemic killed his business. Yet he got no financial assistance from the government.  

At the Brigades’ headquarters – a backroom provided by the medical charity Emergency – Mr Ferrandi said the group was established on 8 March, as Italy entered its first lockdown, by himself and a group of friends who foresaw the economic downturn and resolved to act. “Mutual help is the only antidote to this virus,” Mr Ferrandi said. “The state is frail and it’s crumbling under the weight of the pandemic. We’re not simply delivering food, we’re rebuilding communities.”  

Milan’s municipal welfare department last month allocated €700,000 in assistance for food and housing as part of emergency measures to tackle the crisis. Earlier this year, as the first lockdown was under way, the municipality received 36,000 requests for food assistance. It catered for 15,800 and later added an additional 5,400, while the rest did not meet the necessary requirements.

Gabriele Rabaiotti, head of the department, said many are falling through the cracks of government support. “The public sector needs traceability,” Ms Rabaiotti said. “I worry that we have not yet seen the full extent of the pandemic, as many are invisible to state aid or are now slowly depleting their savings.”

Though the government vowed to cut down bureaucracy and speed up the delivery of aid packages, struggling Italians are weary of its promises. Workers lament unemployment benefits have been inconsistent, if at all delivered. Embittered business owners who once deemed lockdown a necessary evil repeatedly took to the streets in October to protest against the government’s stop-and-go measures and claimed a constitutional right to work.

The Italian economy is estimated to contract by nearly 13 per cent this year. Despite a government ban on firings through March 2021, unemployment has already risen from 5.9 per cent last year to 7.2 per cent as expiring contracts are not renewed. For every 10 workers below 34, four are out of work.

Italians in need of cash are increasingly turning to the collateral loan sector to make ends meet. Giuseppe Gentile, director of the pawnshop network ProntoPegno, estimated a 30 per cent increase in pawns in Milan compared to last year. “The items we see are of higher value compared to other cities – Rolex watches, Cartier necklaces. It suggests wealthy businesspeople are also struggling to pay their expenses,” Mr Gentile said.

Migrant workers make up the second largest clientele at ProntoPegno. Many of them are houseworkers who lost their jobs during the pandemic and need cash to survive until they find work.

Giuseppe Conte, the Italian prime minister, announced on Wednesday that it would revise a contested citizen income scheme that restricted access to people with no or minimal savings who have lived in the country for a minimum of 10 years.

Grassroots organisations are playing a vital role in providing help to those who don’t have credentials to receive government aid. Their intervention has also tilted the city on its head. The city centre, famed for its fashion shopping district, art galleries and business firms, is now eerily empty, while the once neglected neighbourhoods are teeming with life.

What am I to tell my son, that he can’t buy pizza because we can’t afford it?

Maria Teresa Hufalar

In Corvetto, a low-income neighbourhood home to a variety of immigrant groups, the International Neighbourhood Centre offered a safety net to families juggling loss of income, home-schooling and the uncertainties of a pandemic.

Maria Teresa Hufalar, a 47-year-old single mother originally from the Philippines, came to pick up her 8-year-old son Mohamed after a tutoring session provided at the centre by the charity Dare. While her work hours as a maid dwindled, school closures meant she had to pay a babysitter to look after her son while she was away. Expenses skyrocketed and, for the first time, food became a concern.

The local church provided some meals, while Dare supported Mohamed with his schooling and a much-needed outlet for socialisation. Yet, in over 27 years of living in Italy, Ms Hufalar had never turned to food banks and the experience unsettled her. “What am I to tell my son, that he can’t buy pizza because we can’t afford it?” she said.

The barn where the centre is located was turned into a community centre in 2016 by Modou Gueye, a Senegalese actor who arrived in Italy in 1990. “The pandemic hit when we were at our apex, but we managed to reinvent ourselves,” Mr Gueye said. The events room became a food distribution point, while other available spaces were converted to makeshift classrooms.

An abandoned site adjacent to the barn was turned into the “garden of wonders”, where local residents learn about crops and grow their own vegetables. “This is a place where knowledge and flavour blend and people meet,” Mr Gueye said. The pandemic might have imposed social distancing, but community bonds are tighter than they have been in years.