I picked up this book because I wanted a light read, but it was not exactly light reading. The story was about a middle school Chinese girl who desired to continue her education in order to support her parents, to bring them out of poverty, as well as herself and other family members.
I was not ready to read about her hunger and how she went to school, often without eating or with just some bread. I realize that this happens all over the world and worse. But reading her story I was able to feel for her personally.
School was so important to her that when given a little money for food, she saved the money by fasting and bought herself a ball point pen for school. She chastised herself when she didn’t get good grades, and I must say, so did her mother, who she honored, but who I felt was rather cruel towards her, even one day telling her that she wished that she would kill herself, but Ma Yan was strong and continued to try to do her best in school until she began getting top grades, and this, in spite of her hunger.
Her mother was often ill yet continued to work in the fields. I do not know why she didn’t have access to medical care since I do not know the Chinese system of health care, but the stomach pains that she kept getting were no laughing matter, and the medicine she had on hand didn’t work.
Then I thought of how Ma Yan, instead of spending money to pay for someone to take her home from school, walked 6 hours to get home. She just couldn’t spend her parents hard earned money.
I thought of my own life. Did I ever go hungry even though we were poor? No. My mother worked to support us, and I think that the welfare department helped us some, often threatening our father to pay up or else. I realize that much of the time our breakfasts were not that healthy, being cereal, toast and milk or orange juice, and that I was often hungry before the noon lunch break. But it was nothing like the hunger pains that Ma Yan experienced. And I had lunch money, if not a lunch sack. Ma Yan had nothing but was given a little bread at times.
When I first read of her hunger, I recalled my living in Berkeley and going to a house with a man who was crashing it with some other people. “Crashing” in this sense of the word meant that the house was empty, and everyone had just decided to break into it in order to get some shelter from the night air. When I learned that there was no food, I left and went home. I joked later that I had tried to become a Hippie, but I didn’t wish to starve.
Then there was the time that I fasted, and Ma Yan fasted on purpose as well, but for religious reasons, which I felt was not actually a good idea for a starving girl, I fasted for health reasons. During my own fast I lost my hunger after two days and at the end of 10 days I had lost a lot of weight. I never desired to fast again.
Ma Yan did get to go to college, but I believe it was because her diary got into the hands of the French who decided to create a program to help the poor children in China to get an education. And while Ma Yan’s family now have more money, I hope that her mother got the medical help she needed. Still, they are not rich, but they are comfortable.
And if you were to look out over the world, its wars, famines, as well as other problems, it can be overwhelming.
Then I used to work at TACH, a program for the homeless where they open their doors each day, but only during the day so the homeless could get out of the cold. Then they feed them a lunch. What impressed me was the fact that all left over food would be given to those who waited long enough, but when someone showed up at the last minute, they would give them their food. So even though the people who had given up their extra food would go without food for the rest of the day, others would at least have one meal.
Yet, I would look at what they were being given and considered it junk food and wondered why the sandwiches were not made of whole wheat bread or that the peanut butter wasn’t organic or why the bologna and cheese weren’t made with real meat and real cheese and then served with condiments. I even wondered why they were served potato chips. But It was just to fill them up. At least, in the winter, someone always made some homemade soup. And, well, those were the foods that my own mother had given to us when I was growing up and dinners were no better except for the liver she tried to feed us once a week, which I threw on the floor or the dog or put in a napkin and flushed down the toiler when no one was looking. I even tried chopping it up and mixing it with mashed potatoes, but it ruined the potatoes.
When I learned that some Christians believe that the poor are poor because they don’t have Christ in their hearts or because they are going to the right church, I felt anger.This is why many food shelters open with aprayer and give a sermon. Whereas, the Methodist Church in this town feed the poor every Thursday evening, and they never say prayers or judge them. People are not poor because they are lazy or because they don’t have Christ in their hearts, they are poor because that is what life gave them, and they just need a hand, and if that doesn’t work, they should still not be judged.