A Request

One morning after enjoying breakfast at the bakery with my friends and buying a loaf of bread, I went to the post office to mail a postcard. Along the way, I passed three boys who weren’t wearing shoes slouching on the ground with their backs against a store. They asked me for money, as people in that position and location so often do, and for a variety of reasons, I shook my head no, as I always do. I went on the post office, unable to stop myself from thinking about how I was carrying a sliced loaf of bread in my hand. Surely no evil drug lord who may be exploiting them to look cute and helpless could deprive them of bread. On the way back as I passed them again, I asked if they would like a piece from my loaf. They responded enthusiastically, so I passed a slice to each of them. They thanked me and before I walked away, one of them crumpled up the slice in his hand and eagerly shoved it into his mouth.

As I walked back to my room I thought about how much that loaf of bread had cost: R7.70. That’s slightly more than 1 US dollar. How much would it have hurt me to give them the whole loaf? If you’re hungry and you eat one slice of bread, you’re still hungry. Even if you eat a third of a loaf, you’ll be hungry again pretty soon. It made me wish I could give them something more important and longer lasting than just bread.

Today, weeks later, the campus organization that runs the tutoring program I’m involved with had an outreach event at a primary school in Durban. We asked other university students for donations of tinned food, clothes, and money. My friend Becky and I bought some pencils, scissors, crayons, paper, calculators, and other school supplies, and the girl in charge of the event bought jerseys (sweaters) in the appropriate colour to match the uniforms of that school. 

After some significant delays (“Africa time”), we finally made it to the township school where all the kids were standing in lines in the courtyard singing while they waited for us. Certain kids have been identified as “vulnerable children.” Based on conversations with Peace Corps volunteers I’ve run into, I think this means they’re orphans, have parents who are unable to take care of them due to AIDS, and other similar problems. We gave each of these kids a jersey, a can of baked beans, a can of tomatoes, and some school supply. I watched one of the guys who was given a calculator smiling as he poked the buttons through the plastic package and told his friend that this calculator was his.  It’s great to know that I’ve given them something that will endure for longer than a piece of bread, though I wish I'd been able to stay and teach him how to use the functions on the calculator.

 We walked into the school and saw a classroom decorated with a poster about giving the world a Durban welcome for the 2010 World Cup, along with the normal alphabet posters. I was surprised to see a single word processing device sitting on a desk. My brother bought something like this once at a garage sale for its ancient novelty, but I guess that means the school has no computers.

This brings me to my request. There are lots of children in this world who don’t have bread, who don’t have sweaters, who don’t have computers, who don’t have parents. If you’re reading my blog, you have most of these things, so I’m asking you to make a donation to some organization that helps people help themselves. It could be your church, Building Tomorrow, the Peace Corp, Teach for America, Heifer International, or something else. It’s fine if you just have $1 to donate. Here in South Africa that’s enough to buy a loaf of bread or a package of 10 pencils.