By hfirlein
A few weekends ago, my housemates and I went back to the township of Strandfontein to visit the informal settlement that we had made food for previously. This time, instead of making the curry, we delivered and served it to the residents of Klapteinsklip. We stopped at Auntie C’s to pick up curry and fat cook, and then drove about ten minutes away to a small, one-room community hall. Children had gathered outside, and while a few people went inside to set up the food and chairs, my housemates and I sang a few American summer camp songs with the kids. They were pretty shy at first, and we looked a little crazy, jumping around and singing, but eventually they warmed up to us and joined in. The Macarena was especially popular!
Once the hall was ready, we went inside and served the food. The children ate first, and then we served what was left to the adults. Even though enough food for 150 people had been prepared, there still wasn’t enough to feed everyone who showed up to the hall that day. It was absolutely heartbreaking to have to tell hungry people that we didn’t have any more food to give, especially since as volunteers, we all knew we would go home to a pantry full of food that we didn’t think twice about buying. It’s difficult to even partially understand what poverty and hunger mean until they are staring you, unblinkingly, in the face. Even then, you can only try to imagine, to empathize, without ever fully understanding. It made all of us want to do more, to help more, but there is only so much you can give. It isn’t possible to fix the problems of the world, or a country, or a town, or a person all in one day. The best we can do is give what we can: a bit of time, a pot of food, a smile. It isn’t enough, but it’s something. And perhaps most importantly, the experiences of that day will remain with all of us as a reminder that the world isn’t perfect, that it needs fixing, and that every little bit, every kind word or deed, helps.