As I drove into Prince Albert last week, the parking lot of the community garden on 10th Street East was busier than I’d seen in months. Volunteers in work gloves and boots were hauling the last of this season’s potatoes into crates, their breath visible in the crisp October air.
“We’ll get about 400 pounds just from these rows,” said Melissa Baribeau, a community coordinator who’s been managing the garden project since 2019. “Most goes directly to the food bank, but we’re setting aside seed potatoes for next spring.”
This scene reflects a growing movement across Saskatchewan communities facing a stubborn reality: food insecurity affects nearly one in seven households in the province, according to Food Banks Canada’s 2023 HungerCount report.
What struck me while reporting in Prince Albert wasn’t just the statistics, but the web of relationships forming around food access. The garden I visited represents just one node in a community-wide response that’s taking shape across the province.
“We’ve seen a 32% increase in food bank visits over the past year,” explained Carol Grenier, executive director of the Prince Albert Food Bank. “It’s not just individuals experiencing homelessness anymore—we’re seeing more families with two incomes who still can’t make ends meet after rent and utilities.”
The Saskatchewan Food Security Institute reports that grocery prices in the province rose by 9.3% last year, outpacing wage increases that averaged just 3.1%. That gap has pushed community initiatives from supplemental to essential for many families.
At Bernice Sayese Centre, I met with Indigenous elders sharing traditional knowledge about food preservation with young parents. Inside their commercial kitchen, a dozen participants learned to prepare and can seasonal vegetables that would later stock a community pantry.
“Food sovereignty is about more than addressing hunger,” elder Marvin Merasty told me while demonstrating how to prepare wild rice. “It’s about reclaiming our relationship with food and teaching the next generation how to feed themselves and their community.”
The program combines immediate food relief with education that builds long-term resilience. Participants take home both meals and skills—a model being replicated in communities from La Ronge to Swift Current.
What makes Saskatchewan’s approach noteworthy is how these programs bridge urban-rural divides. In Prince Albert, the Community Service Centre has created direct farmer-to-food bank partnerships with five farms within a 50-kilometer radius.
“Farmers were already looking for ways to reduce food waste,” said James Wilson, who coordinates the program. “We provide transportation and volunteers for gleaning after commercial harvests, and farmers get a tax receipt for donated produce.”
Last year, this partnership recovered over 35,000 pounds of vegetables that would have otherwise been plowed under. The Saskatchewan Association of Rural Municipalities has now created a toolkit to help other communities replicate this model.
Provincial government support remains a point of contention. While the Ministry of Social Services increased funding for emergency food programs by $7.7 million this year, community organizers argue these investments treat symptoms rather than causes.
“Band-Aid solutions won’t address why so many working people can’t afford groceries,” noted Dr. Rachel Thompson, a food security researcher at the University of Saskatchewan. “We need systemic approaches that address housing costs, minimum wage, and northern food transportation subsidies.”
This critique isn’t stopping communities from getting creative with available resources. In Prince Albert’s west end, the School Nutrition Coalition now operates community gardens at four schools, connecting classroom curriculum with practical food production.
During my visit to Vincent Massey Community School, I watched Grade 5 students harvesting carrots they planted last spring. Their teacher, Kevin MacDonald, explained how the program improves both nutrition and education outcomes.
“Students who participate in the garden program show better attendance and engagement,” MacDonald said, brushing soil from a particularly impressive carrot. “They’re more likely to try vegetables they’ve grown themselves, and they bring that enthusiasm home to their families.”
The garden produces fresh vegetables for the school’s breakfast program, which serves 140 students daily. Parents volunteer alongside Master Gardeners from the Agricultural Society, creating informal mentorships that spread growing expertise throughout the community.
What’s emerging in Saskatchewan isn’t just a collection of programs but an ecosystem approach to food security. The Prince Albert Food Coalition now includes 28 organizations—from traditional food banks to the health authority, schools, and Indigenous communities.
“We’re moving beyond emergency responses to build food systems that actually work for people living here,” explained Coalition chair Sandra Miller. “That means addressing affordability, accessibility, and cultural appropriateness all at once.”
The impact extends beyond nutrition. At the community garden where I started my reporting, volunteer Kim Larsen pointed out the social benefits of their work.
“I came here after my husband passed away, just looking for something to do,” she told me, separating seed potatoes from those headed to the food bank. “Now I have friends I see three times a week, plus vegetables for my grandkids.”
As winter approaches, these community efforts are shifting indoors. The Prince Albert Co-op has donated space for monthly collective kitchens where families prepare meals together using bulk ingredients, reducing costs while building cooking skills and social connections.
Saskatchewan’s community-based approach offers lessons for addressing food insecurity nationwide. By connecting urban consumers with nearby farmers, integrating education with immediate assistance, and building cross-sector coalitions, communities are creating systems more resilient than any single program could provide.
As I left Prince Albert, Melissa from the community garden handed me a paper bag of small potatoes—the ones too damaged for storage but perfect for immediate use.
“Nothing goes to waste here,” she said. “That’s how communities should work.”
