BUYING CHICKEN
This
week, I asked one of the clinic assistants, “Luisa”,
if there was anything I could do to help them or the children on the
Malnutrition Ward. One of them told me that the children like eating
meat, especially chicken. Unfortunately, their (very meagre) budget
only allows for THREE chickens / month, split amongst the SIX
children.
I decided to
start buying a roast chicken every Saturday for the children as a
treat. (This would be completely illegal in Australia, as under the
litigious climate, would be seen as a potential health hazard, and as
a “conflict of interest” towards to children as a
staff/volunteer!!!)
On Saturday, I
approached the Rotisserie on the way to BPC, to buy a roast chicken
(chopped up) for $5. It was eye-opening to see the presentation of
the meats. They were all stored on trays in the glass cabinet at room
temperature. There was a risk that it may be spoiled, but I was told
that it's actually a popular place. I hypothesized that if the place
was popular, then it was unlikely that it'd sell spoiled meats,
especially when the prices are expensive by local standards. I asked
for the chicken, and the woman chopped it up, placed it in a
paper-folded “container”, added a little bag of soy sauce, and
placed the container in another plastic bag. Primitive, but workable
and memorable.
I slowly walked
to the clinic under the hot sun, wondering how they would respond,
and if everything would turn out fine. I was too “shy” / anxious
to present the chicken to the parents myself, and asked Luisa to
distribute it evenly amongst the children. I nervously waited in the
office, before preparing to walk home.
Luisa bumped into
me and said, “Ken, the children are eating the chicken, go have a
look!”
I followed her
into the Malnutrition room, and it looked like a “Kodak moment”:
it was quiet apart from the ceiling fans and the chewing noises of
the children. The parents were quietly focusing on them eating the
chicken with the porridge. No complaints at all.
Inside I felt
very “touched” but couldn't figure out why, and had to leave the
room after a few seconds, coz I thought I was going to break into
tears. They weren't openly worshipping me, but I suspected they were
happy.
It
seemed way easier to please people in developing countries. $5
was what it took to brighten the day of 6 families.
I can see why working in a developing country could be attractive,
with the poverty and reduced resources (medical and non-medical). The
people seem much more grateful, and are less inclined to take things
for granted.
But I had to
remind myself, that if I wanted to work in a developing country in
the far future, to truly consider how much of this would out of
genuine altruism and/or job satisfaction, vs the desire to feed one's
Ego and be “worshipped” by the patients etc.
I've decided to
continue buying a roast chicken for the remaining Saturdays I'm in
East Timor, but leave the Malnutrition Ward ASAP after I have
distributed it out. At least that way, there is minimal potential
time for me to “gloat” about this deed and “thrive” in their
live gratitude.
No comments:
Post a Comment