Plastic Bags

That’s all they wanted, a dozen stupid plastic bags. Yesterday, I was excited as we were giving out shirts and sandals sent from Canada to the kids here. It doesn’t seem like much but you know the cliché. Anyways, they were all excited as we somehow managed to hand out everything without getting trampled. The kids were all very thankful and polite as they looked over their new stuff.

As we were finishing up, Laurence came up to me and asked if he could have the two ripped plastic bags I had in my hand. I gave them to him, wondering what he was up to. The next thing I knew I was surrounded by the rest of the older boys asking if I had more. I assured them that I did back in the guest house and felt like the pied piper as I led them across the property. I grabbed a dozen, stored up from the last few shopping trips, and handed them out. I overheard one of the boys say esomero (school) when it hit me like a ton of bricks.

None of these boys had school packs. A few of the kids do and carry others’ supplies, but for the most part everyone just hopes it doesn’t rain. So, when I gave them the bags, they were ecstatic, unexpectedly more so than when they got the clothes. However, there was one boy, Frank, the youngest, who was visibly distraught. I asked Laurence what was the matter. He showed me where Frank’s bag was torn, right on the handle. I went back inside, found another, and saw Frank’s face light up as I gave him this new prize.

As soon as they were all satisfied, they ran off waiving their bags victoriously in the air. I was only able to snap one pick to remind myself the surreal scene that just took place. A dozen used plastic bags, that’s all they needed.





More to come...