My 30-Hour Famine Starts
Friday, May 19, 2006
Kevin Carter
Hunger is real. The picture was taken in the 90s and a decade later, it's still happening day after day.
My brothers and I were trained to finish everything on our plates by mommy dearest who echoes a common sentiment, "People in other countries are starving, and you're wasting the food you have?" I took it very seriously and had been stuffing myself full before I learnt to ask for less. However, I'm still left with thoughts that for every grain of rice I did not consume, a child somewhere will die from starvation, because the excess food could have gone to him or her instead. So I tried to do my part by asking for less and donating money whenever I can.
I received an email somewhere in April from Worldvision Singapore regarding a Famine Youth Camp to be held in June. It felt like a valuable experience to have as you won't truly understand someone until you walk a mile in their shoes. After all the biggest advocates for any cause are those who share similar experiences. Unfortunately, maximum age was 25 and I was about to forward the email to my friends asking them to participate when my mind clicked, it went something like, "Oh, yeah. I'm not 25 anymore. . . . *blank stare* . . . . . oh for crying out loud!!!"
After getting over the annoyance of nearing 30, I decided that if I can't go for the camp, I'll just undergo the famine by myself. For a person who enters zombie mode whenever her meal is delayed, I must be crazy to do this.
If my metabolism's as active as it used to be, I would have had no qualms about gobbling all day long. Food is central and eating is probably the super glue that binds my family together. We can go from tearing at each other's throats one moment and laughing with each other the next once our stomach is full. Moderation does not apply whenever we eat out - restaurants we patronise are those with food that comes fast and furious, trips to conveyor belt style sushi places often result in (proudly) counting the number of empty plates that were neatly stacked by mom to see if we'd beaten our record, and I shall not mention the buffets in case I start to blush.
As much as I'm apprehensive about this process, I know that given how fortunate I am to have all my basic needs met, I will never understand the hardships associated with true hunger unless I give up the very thing I centre my daily activities and my emotional well-being on. When this 30 hour famine is over, I hope to learn more about myself as well as gain something to spur me on to do greater things.
As I'm typing this, it's about 5 hours into the 'famine' and I'm starting to feel my stomach rumbling. Hopefully the hunger pangs will not hit me too hard by the time lunch comes along. |
