I saw a documentary following a little boy in Cambodia. With a small bucket, he searched all day to find ants for dinner. Ants. His mother wanted to add them to the rice for protein. Their only meal of the day was in the evening when his father arrived home from working the fields. They each had one bowl of watered down rice with ants.
As I sat there staring at the television, my western eyes fell off and I saw further into the world. I saw a family like mine struggling with more than "What movie should we see?" or "What school shoes should we buy?". Their livelihood hung on all of them. And I imagined what it must be like to work in fields for the entire day without food until nighttime. Or to scavenge for ants for dinner. Or to barter for the only meal we would have.
Those thoughts still rattle me. My greedy indulgence haunts me. I eat for more than survival. I eat for comfort, celebration, and entertainment. It's considered normal here. But I can't help feeling guilty when I overindulge myself. I want to lose weight, so wouldn't eating less food help that and give me more funds for helping the less fortunate?
I want to identify with my brothers and sisters in distant lands; I want to understand hunger. This year is my quest to find it.
