A Bowl of Grapes

I cried in the drive-thru at Taco Bell a few weeks ago. 

“Would you like anything else?” the attendant asked me over the intercom.

“No,” I said, my voice trembling. “No, thanks.”

I pulled up to the window, wiping away my tears, trying to hide my guilt. 

“Sorry for the wait,” they said when they finally handed me my food, though I hadn’t noticed how long it had taken. I could only think of Maryam and her family, wondering whether or not they had food as well. 

How truly fortunate we are, being able to get a quick meal at any moment of any day, and to satiate our stomach’s desires so easily. I cried, because I was succumbing to my need for food. I cried, because I could eat while my brothers and sisters went hungry. 

I drove home crying, knowing I would never feel the pain of starvation. Not in my life, not in my country. 

How pitiful it is to wonder where your next meal is coming from when there are people who worry if food will ever come at all. How fortunate I am, and how guilty I feel, buying food so easily, when my friend and her family are surviving off empty bags of insect-ridden rice. 

When I got home, I opened my bag of burritos, and I cried again. With every bite, I thought of them. With every swallow, I swallowed guilt. It wasn’t fair for them. But what can I do? Going on a hunger strike myself would do nothing beneficial. Really, all I can do is contribute financially, and hope for the best.

Money isn’t food, but money can feed. The next day, Maryam sent me a message. Before we started the fundraiser, she had been saving a dollar at a time so that she could buy her son a handful of grapes. It’s rare for grapes to be available, let alone be affordable. But she was able to buy some– barely a dozen of them– for her son. She sent me a video of him eating them. I watched how slowly he ate them, first admiring how green they were, then taking a bite of one and chewing as if he weren’t only savoring the flavors, but rather savoring life itself. 

They live in a world of empty pots and empty stomachs. Maryam sacrifices eating enough so that her son can have his fill. But her son eats only a little, because he knows how important it is for his little sister to have more than he does. He’ll save a couple of bites, too, so that he’ll have breakfast in the morning.

How fortunate we are, truly, to not know the pain of hunger.

It is our duty– our God-given responsibility– to help our brothers and sisters, for we cannot feast and feast alone, but rather only in the company of others. Before I met Maryam, grapes were only a snack to me. But I’ve learned that grapes, to them, are a gift from God. Grapes are a hope for tomorrow, and a reason to live for today. May they never go a day without it.

Seth Pooler