Andreemi is an integral part of the Reykjavík community: it's always been a meeting point and discussion point for the radical political scene, and in Bergsurgata, its yellow-painted exterior is a landmark in the middle of the street. “The space is based on anarchist values: resistance to domination and oppression, mutual aid, consensus-based decision-making and horizontal organising,” says Eli, who has been deeply involved with Andreemi since its inception.
A kitchen where everyone can cook
The so-called “Radical Kitchen” is one of Andreemi Space's central events, a weekly “People's Kitchen” meal aimed at providing a safe and welcoming space for refugees to come together and eat. During the COVID-19 pandemic, these communal events were understandably canceled. But after a long hiatus, the Radical Kitchen is now back, hosting dinners every other Wednesday and the last Sunday of the month.
“All the old people are gone, but the new people are doing the same things, feeling the same vibe, the same happiness.”
One might worry that a space whose ecosystem changes as people come and go might alter the principles of place. But Gunnar, who was involved in radical kitchen gatherings before the pandemic and continues to do so today, is quick to dispel those concerns. “All the old people are gone,” he says. “But new people are doing the same thing and feeling the same vibe and happiness as before, which is great!”
These communal dinners also provide an opportunity to get to know the space: the dinners are open to the public, and the organizers try to promote them widely so that they reach as many people as possible who are interested in Andrými and its mission.
“People who are new to this space often come to Radical Kitchen first to learn about the space and the people there,” explains Nino, who has been in Iceland since February. Nino says that the Radical Kitchen posters were what first drew them to the space.
Donations are voluntary
While nourishing events have become a cornerstone of the community, running them and maintaining a large space has proven difficult. “Since COVID-19, Andrymi has been struggling financially,” laments Eli, noting, “July is especially difficult, as many people are away on summer vacation and there isn’t much activity in the space, so fundraising can be difficult.”
Andrimi needs the money fast, but no one cares. “Actually, I think we can do it,” Gunnar says of the center's prospects for becoming financially sustainable. “You don't need that many people to pay the rent.”
But Gunnar stresses: “Andrimi is an anti-capitalist space, so it's really important that everything we do here is free. Sometimes we ask for donations, but it's always voluntary. If someone can't afford to donate, that's OK – they won't be turned away. That's really important.”
For this reason, organizers will make an announcement at the start of each Radical Kitchen, pointing out where potential donors can find Andrymi's bank account details and the donation box.
Safer Spaces
Bergsürgada's sunlit home serves many functions beyond housing a radical kitchen. It also houses a bicycle workshop, a children's play area, a carpentry shop, a community frieze and an anarchist library. “It's a space for creative ideas, community, organisation, empowerment, resources, support and rebellion,” explains Nino. “It's also a safer space for many people, including me.”
It's not just a phrase, it's a term essential to the place: Andrimi has “safer space training” for those tasked with opening and closing the building.
“The Safer Spaces workshop is based on Andreemi’s solidarity statement and includes ways to support and welcome people from all sectors of society,” Eli explains. “Safer Spaces is a community effort, so it’s very important to us that people who are somehow connected to Andreemi are taking part in this workshop.”
Gunnar, who also supports the workshops, says everyone is welcome, but “that doesn't include fascists or police, because those cannot be part of a safer space.”
“It's a space for creative ideas, community, organization, empowerment, resources, support and rebellion.”
Unfortunately, this point has become even more important in the wake of incidents of police violence in the capital region in recent months. On June 12, after pepper spray was used for the second time in as many weeks against anti-war protesters, many gathered in Andrimi late at night, feasting on leftovers from the day's militant kitchens and rinsing the pepper spray from their hair.
“I remember that night very well,” Gunnar began. “We were at a protest and some people got pepper sprayed, I got pepper sprayed. And it just felt really good to come back here and see people looking out for each other. It was a place where you could feel looked out for by other people and the community.”
This fits perfectly with the history and ethos of the place, as does Radical Kitchen: “I remember the first time I came here. [at Andrými]”There was a protest against deportations at the police station and then everyone went to the police station,” Gunnar says, recalling the protests in 2016, the year Andrimi opened.
If the house has a soul
“It doesn't matter how involved you are or how often you come, you always feel welcome and looked after,” says Coral, an artist who has been involved with Radical Kitchen. “You immediately feel like you belong there, which is a feeling I've never experienced anywhere else.”In fact, everyone interviewed for this article invited readers to either get involved with Radical Kitchen or come and experience the space.
“If a house has a soul, Andremi definitely has one,” Gunnar muses. It's a sentiment echoed before about the space and the community that thrives there. If there's anything that comes close to proving the fact that Andremi's spirit endures despite any post-pandemic changes or challenges, this is the closest thing to it.
The next Radical Kitchen will be held on July 24th. All are welcome to attend. The solidarity statement and house schedule can be found at andrymi.org.
