Despite the passage of eight years, I can still vividly remember the opulent taste of Asian delicacies. The delightful combination of enticing spices and alluring aromas would make my mouth water. The glossy appearance of the glaze on the delectable ham emitted a radiant glow, providing a comforting sensation as it slid down my throat and settled in my stomach. Back then, I was too young to fully grasp its importance, but simply being nourished brought me immense satisfaction. In comparison to others, one could argue that I was fortunate.
While strolling through the streets of Manila, Philippines, I was struck by the contrast between the display of island foods and the presence of poverty. The sight of beggars, homeless people, and especially the children weighed heavy on my heart. These children moved slowly and appeared burdened, as if carrying invisible weights on their backs. Their eyes were filled with tears, reflecting not only their hunger but also their deep emotional pain. Their pale lips matched the whiteness of their eyes, and their clothes seemed untouched by water. Throughout my fine dining experience, their constant moans followed me like a haunting melody. Despite being young and inexperienced in worldly matters, I couldn’t help but question the state of affairs and felt overwhelmed with sadness.
The restaurant I recall vividly featured walls made entirely of windows and beautifully decorated tables adorned with vibrant fine China. The ambiance was further enhanced by the soothing melodies of oriental music playing in the background. As my family and I settled down, I enjoyed a clear view of the bustling activity on the streets outside. Although I tried to concentrate on placing my order, thoughts of young children who should have been playing with me at school or in the neighborhood persistently interrupted – children desperately searching for leftover food just to survive. Eventually, I managed to order and our food arrived promptly. The meal was so delicious that for a moment, I momentarily forgot about the dire situation those impoverished children faced.
After I finished eating, I decided to get some sugared bread to-go. While ordering, I noticed my five-year-old sister and another little girl of similar age pressing their foreheads against the window. At first, it seemed cute until I realized that the other girl outside wasn’t just playing but desperately hungry. As the bread came out of the oven, my focus shifted back to my own order. The bread appeared incredibly fresh with steam rising from its top, filling the restaurant with a pleasant aroma and tempting sweetness that almost made my tooth ache.
As I quietly held onto my order, I approached my younger sister. We left the restaurant and were met with an unpleasant odor of sewage and dirt in the air. The smell was coming from a young girl who had been following us. While the rest of my family continued to explore the food street, I lagged behind and eventually caught up to Loni, a six-year-old girl. She disclosed that she hadn’t eaten for two days and relied solely on water to survive. She was so desperate for hydration that she resorted to drinking rainwater from a nearby puddle. My heart went out to her, but my mother called me ahead, leaving little time for any action.
My mother quickly came up with a solution when she realized it was not safe to be near a beggar. She suggested that I offer the beggar my favorite bread. The beggar’s face immediately brightened with satisfaction, as if illuminated by heavenly light. With eagerness, she took a bite of the sweet bread and in that moment, her tears stopped flowing, her lips regained their rosy color, and her pale complexion returned to its tropical hue. The grateful little girl happily ran off, disappearing into the hidden alleys of the street. As I turned back to my mother, I could see from her intense gaze that I was in serious trouble.
My mother guided me to the car, holding my hand and bringing back memories from when I was six. She emphasized the importance of not wasting food due to global hunger. Reflecting on her words, I realized that I had never truly paid attention to her advice. However, she also expressed pride and joy in witnessing my growth into a compassionate and mature individual at such a young age. This filled me with happiness and relief.
The twinkle in my mother’s eyes resembled stars on a clear night, accompanied by a wide smile that covered her entire face. Our bond grew stronger, capable of enduring the hardships of this world we live in. This profound experience will forever be etched in my memory, transforming me forever.
Even after eight years, I still cling to the invaluable lessons I learned on that day. In my youth, I understood that seemingly ordinary experiences can provide profound insights. The memory of that day will always be etched in my mind. Acknowledging the presence of children like Loni has instilled resourcefulness in me, and this encounter will forever impact my identity. Whenever I stroll along Culinary Way in Manila, Philippines, it serves as a constant reminder of the person I have become – someone marked by maturity and sophistication.
