Each day the feeding team sets offs at around 4pm in a van stocked up with several large pots of steaming rice and the nutritious food that it has prepared, large containers of water, along with plastic plates and cups. When there are two feeding locations (with up to 200 children in each), the day does not finish until about 9 or 10pm.
One afternoon we arrived in a slum area when the rain had just stopped. The area looked like a gigantic dumping ground and was very wet and muddy after the downpour. Even before the van pulled in the children started running towards us and jumping onto the sides of the van like hyperactive monkeys, giggling and calling out our names. I watched with worry as they very skilfully dodged the muddier puddles and hopped around on the dryer patches, avoiding the splashing of the thick grey mud. Soon we were embraced by the smell of sewage; I instinctively held my nose as I got off the van to a growing crowd of smiling, expectant children. I stood rather speechless at the sight of nine and ten-year-olds carrying smaller children on their backs, not seeming to mind the mud-stained flip-flops brushing against the back of their t-shirts. They took care of them as if they were their babies, taking turns when they got tired. I have also seen older children giving their food to younger ones. Most of them are not even related. The children look out and care for younger ones because they know what it means to be small and vulnerable, and they do this out of sheer kindness and love and not because they have anything to gain from it. It really makes me question my own heart, how often I don’t even share with people I know, let alone strangers totally unrelated to me.
The children were so happy to see the team and eager to sit on the mats which we had brought, waiting to listen to the Bible stories for the day. My sister, who, like me, is not used to noisy and overly excited children, pleaded with them to sit down and keep quiet. They battled with one another for the pieces of paper being given out for them to write their answers to a quiz we had prepared - they were so keen that when the quiz ended they expressed disappointment that there weren’t more questions to be answered! Children do desire to learn don’t they, but so many in the world lack the opportunities to do so.
After handing out plates of food from the candle-lit van (as the light at the back of the car was broken) to what seemed like an endless queue of children we set off for the second feeding location situated at a busy roundabout in the city. The children there seemed scruffier and dirtier and certainly didn’t smell very nice, but again they were so happy and excited when our van pulled in, and they kept asking for my sister’s name as they had not met her before. As soon as they found out what she’s called they were all chanting “Ate (= big sister) Tina” and wanting to play with her (in the form of Tina holding their arms and spinning them around). One girl who didn’t speak much English beckoned me over and pointed to the new bandage on her lower right leg. Barbara, a volunteer from Switzerland, had treated her wound earlier. Many of the street children are often covered with nasty cuts which take ages to heal because of the lack of hygiene and basic essentials such as antiseptic cream and bandages. What Barbara did was a simple act, but it meant so much to the girl.
Towards the end of the feeding, the children and adults started putting the used plastic plates and cups in one of the large basins. I was busy arranging the plates and cups into a pile when a man, wanting another drink of water, picked up a used cup and rinsed it in the basin with the mix of water and leftover sauce from the meal. I stared at the dirty cup and felt sorry for him, but he smiled and thanked me in English as he gulped down the lukewarm water.
The topic of happiness is super hot in the West these days. Some say one’s happiness is dependent on one’s expectations. Is that true? Were those children playing in Mud Land happy because they didn’t expect anything other than mud and sewage smell? Was the little girl grateful and content because she didn’t (and couldn’t) expect anything beyond a small piece of bandage? Did the man wanting a drink of water smile and thank me because that’s all he wanted? I suppose one could argue that one of the reasons why many in richer countries, despite having more in material terms, are still unhappy is because for some reason we are always wanting and expecting more (and more) and we are not content with what we already have.
But is that it? Are monks and nuns happier people necessarily? From what I saw in Cebu it seems that one can be happy even if he doesn’t have much. In fact, it seems that the more we have the unhappier/more dissatisfied we become, though of course that’s not what the world of advertising would like us to think. I suspect many of us probably resonate with this deep within but curiously most of us still carry on doing what we have always done – it seems most natural to do so.
I’m not saying possessions are evil, but if I was honest, I would admit that more often than not possessions do seem to take over me and render me powerless to say no to acquiring more and more. Just two hours before writing this I was walking down the street in central Brighton. As I passed by the shops I found myself drawn to many window displays (of nice clothes, books, DVDs), a familiar desire rising within me crying out for the items. It was almost as if I would be happier and more complete if only I could acquire another skirt (despite being seriously convicted for the past months that I have way too many clothes), or that book, or just those two DVDs. But I know that that’s simply not the case - my heart will actually continue to long for more after being temporarily gratified by my purchases. Oliver James in his book Affluenza suggests some principles as antidote to the modern day “virus” of wanting more incessantly. I have yet to read it, but just browsing the interestingly worded chapter titles I have decided that the book is probably buying (from a second hand bookshop perhaps!).
The Gospel of Matthew records Jesus saying some rather radical things which seem to be words echoed from a distant world. One such thing was: “Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where moth and rust do not destroy, and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where you treasure is, there your heart will be also.”
Where is my heart? Is it with the poor and those without, or the window displays?
