Sweating and aching, we walked through the dirt roads next to the makeshift houses composed of corrugated metal and wood. We heard cries of hungry babies swaddled in cloth in 90 degree weather, but they were not hot. We walked alongside kids that only showed joy, yet looked as if they could break at any moment.

We continued on what we thought was a long journey, but to them was their everyday route. When there was a road of soft dirt, we walked carefully because the dirt easily got in our shoes, but the kids skipped and ran past, for they did not have shoes. A few of our strongest men were carrying the heavy baskets: the reason we walked through the villages. We were bringing baskets of necessities to some of the families who contacted us for help. The baskets were so heavy and the walk was so long that we had to stop for a break several times, then continued on our way. I was not holding a basket, so I got to walk with the kids. They would hold my hand and climb up tall trees to get me fruit. My only thought: they would go out of their way  to get me, one selfish person, something that they clearly needed more than I did.

Further on, when our legs were hurting even more, we complained about how long the trip was and when we would finally be there. Then our leader told us that “this is how far some of the kids walk in order to eat at the feeding center, some walk even farther”. My heart fell. I felt it drop. I stopped walking for a moment in order to fully comprehend what he said. Some of these kids walk over 5 miles in order to eat a bowl of soup. I caught myself, still unable to fully understand what they have to go through in order to eat, and kept walking.

We arrived at one of the houses, three walls made of wood planks and a few pieces of corrugated metal for a roof. One side left completely open as an entrance. The owner welcomed us with open arms and warm homemade tortillas into her home. The aroma of the tortillas overcame our exhaustion and we ate them as we sat on the ground. The salt on top tasted heavenly, and we forgot about our pain. After eating, I looked at her home. It was probably the size of my bedroom with clothing, dirt, and trash all over the place. Her three kids frolicking about with the chickens and two malnourished dogs.

We presented the basket of necessities to her containing paper towels, olive oil, toilet paper, dish soap, salt, etc. She saw it and cried, she thanked us greatly and praised God. To us it is basic things that don’t really impact our lives. To them, it’s a luxury. She told her story, how she lived before having Christ in her life and how she lives now. We listened and we cried with her. How can people live like we do and complain, while these people cannot even afford toilet paper, and 9 year old children will gladly walk five miles for a bowl of soup.