Spring Break
Hunger is not about food, it's about power
Paul Hackbarth
Issue date: 3/11/07 Section: Opinions
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Last Wednesday afternoon, for one hour, I stopped being Paul and became Liang.
Taking on the role of Liang, who lives in northern Vietnam, where the average income is less than $200 per year, I have no land so I work as a day laborer, earning a small income. My family barely has enough to eat. I can provide a rudimentary education for my son, but I need my daughter at home to help me.
For that hour as Liang, I experienced life in poverty, sitting on the floor next to piles of trash and crates in the MSC Century Rooms, which had been turned into a makeshift poverty-stricken area for a hunger banquet sponsored by the Catholic Newman Center as part of social justice month.
As Liang, I was part of the low-income group, representing the majority of the world's population. My average income is less than $900 per year or about $2.50 per day. Every day is a struggle to meet my family's basic needs.
Finding food, water and shelter may consume my entire day, but my biggest concern is being hungry. I don't get the minimum requirements of calories I am supposed to get.
I am just one of the approximately 850 million people who suffer from chronic hunger everyday.
When it came time for our meal, I received a spoonful of rice on a piece of cardboard with a glass of dirty water. (I still don't know what made the water brown and taste funny. I hope it was food coloring). My group had no silverware. We ate with our hands.
The group of individuals I was with was not alone. Next to us on one side of the room was the middle-income class, who were eating rice and beans with a glass of lemonade. They also had plastic silverware and paper plates, and they sat at a plain table with chairs.
On the other side of the room, at the fancy table, the high-income group was served salad, chicken parmesan with green beans, twice-baked potatoes, breadsticks and dessert.
One individual from the middle-income group offered us her plate of beans and rice. The high-income table did not offer us any food until one brave person from the poverty-stricken group begged for food at the fancy table.
Taking on the role of Liang, who lives in northern Vietnam, where the average income is less than $200 per year, I have no land so I work as a day laborer, earning a small income. My family barely has enough to eat. I can provide a rudimentary education for my son, but I need my daughter at home to help me.
For that hour as Liang, I experienced life in poverty, sitting on the floor next to piles of trash and crates in the MSC Century Rooms, which had been turned into a makeshift poverty-stricken area for a hunger banquet sponsored by the Catholic Newman Center as part of social justice month.
As Liang, I was part of the low-income group, representing the majority of the world's population. My average income is less than $900 per year or about $2.50 per day. Every day is a struggle to meet my family's basic needs.
Finding food, water and shelter may consume my entire day, but my biggest concern is being hungry. I don't get the minimum requirements of calories I am supposed to get.
I am just one of the approximately 850 million people who suffer from chronic hunger everyday.
When it came time for our meal, I received a spoonful of rice on a piece of cardboard with a glass of dirty water. (I still don't know what made the water brown and taste funny. I hope it was food coloring). My group had no silverware. We ate with our hands.
The group of individuals I was with was not alone. Next to us on one side of the room was the middle-income class, who were eating rice and beans with a glass of lemonade. They also had plastic silverware and paper plates, and they sat at a plain table with chairs.
On the other side of the room, at the fancy table, the high-income group was served salad, chicken parmesan with green beans, twice-baked potatoes, breadsticks and dessert.
One individual from the middle-income group offered us her plate of beans and rice. The high-income table did not offer us any food until one brave person from the poverty-stricken group begged for food at the fancy table.
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