"Where are all the kids?!?!"

Sunday. Oh Sunday. Passing out food this weekend was a complete 180 from the previous three weekends. I am finally perfecting exactly how much of each food item to purchase/make for 50 servings and the cooking went extra smooth with the help of two co-workers. We had it all ready to go just in time for two others to come and help pass it out, so we headed to the street corner maybe around 1230. The usual time! We got in two tuk tuks and as we reached the corner, there was not a soul in sight! (Okay not a soul that was in need of the food) So I had the driver continue down the road to the second spot and much to my dismay, they were not there either. My heart sank!! Where had they gone? We (eventually) turned around to the train station because there are ALWAYS children there, but after searching for another hour we still were left in disappointment. At one point I walked with one friend back to the usual corner and we attracted attention from the police (who were patrolling the area) we were surrounded by six or seven of them all with their rifles and batons! This may have happened because I yelled "Where's the children?!?!?" up and down the street! They said they didn't know where the kids had gone, but I am sure it had something to do with the police presence.

Finally we decided to go to another part of the city by the river where many adults and some children live. As we piled in, a few street kids surfaced and ran up to us. They were not the ones I usually feed but of course we were ecstatic to feed them nonetheless! We passed out some meals then headed to the river.

Once there we walked up to a family and guess what?! The little boy and girl were two of the 17 kids who had attended the slum girls day a few weeks prior!! The sister came to me first, her face beaming. I immediately remembered her and she gave me the biggest hug then couldn't stop holding my hand. Both she and her brother just looked at me, smiling seeming to say "I can't believe it's you AGAIN!" It was so awesome! Their mom and dad live with them on the streets and so I saw their piece of cement which is their home. After we passed out all the food we got on the bus to go eat lunch ourselves. As I was sitting their my coworker looked at me and asked if I was thinking of the group of kids we normally feed. The answer, of course, was yes. I worried. Where were they? Where do 50 kids without homes go when the police tell them to move? Were they hungry? Will they eat today? I had to hold back the tears. I genuinely hope that they re-surface and that I find them again really soon. (Side note: The people we fed live near a temple that provides food, which is why I hadn't gone there previously.)

Then the thoughts moved on to the brother and sister and their family. They were there on the broken sidewalk, smiling and seemingly whole with nothing but the clothes strung over a banister, the meals we had just provided and each other. I keep looking at the picture of them sitting on the sidewalk, a candid photo, in which you can see them all smiling. So I ask you this today, what makes a home, a home?


  1. Oh dear, that is a sobering thought - where do they go when they are moved along? Wherever they were hiding, I'm sure they were missing you and they can't wait to see you again next week!

  2. All I can say is that you are an amazing person xo