As volunteers, I think you can adjust to your new conditions and cultural differences after a while. But from time to time, in rare moments, I find myself struck by the adverse conditions that so much of the world’s population is exposed to. On the afternoon of the soccer camp, I had one of those moments.
I was helping to serve lunch, which consisted of rice and g-nut sauce, until the sauce ran out and then it was just rice. We tried to proportion out the servings just right so that everyone could get some. As we were getting close to the bottom of the container, somehow all the boys knew, and what was once an organized line, became a mass of bowls, cups, containers, or anything else that they boys bring to eat on and could shove at us. They were all trying to get to the food before it ran out, and it was impossible to keep track of who had already eaten and who hadn’t had any yet. But we did our best, and when things went absolutely out of control, we put the pan on the ground and shewed all the boys away telling them there was no more (there was just a little, but things had turned to chaos). I think for some of those boys, they didn’t know where their next meal would come from. I noticed one boy in particular who sort of hung around and sat on the side, with his plate that had been licked clean from food. He was one of the last in line, but we assumed he had come for seconds because his plate was dirty. After he was there for so long, I decided to go talk to him. I introduced myself and he told me his name was Hammin. I asked him if the food had been good. He told me, “I didn’t get any. I was in line, but had to leave so that I could find someone to borrow a plate from. By the time I got back, the food was gone.” I was reminded of Impact school, where the orphan students are fed lunch, and those at the end of the line never get to eat because the food runs out. I told Hammin to hand me his dirty plate, and I filled it with some of the leftover rice. When I brought it back, he was so grateful, and thanked me for it again later in the day. I was so touched by this quiet boy. “How many meals does he get to eat?” I wonder. “How many times does he miss out because he is at the end of some line?” I walked hurriedly away so that he wouldn’t see my tears. I have never had to worry about when I will eat again. I have never been anxious to eat a small portion of only rice. I have never had to fight to the front of a line in order to be fed. And I’m certain I will try to never take that for granted again.
Thanks, Hammin, for teaching me a special lesson that day.
