Part 2 of the Morocco miniseries: Words from the dusty road
Her bony hand clasped my wrist, hands shaking from the effort. Only four years old and already know how to beg in French. No matter how hardened I was by the road, I couldn’t bring myself to pull her hand away and ended up remaining in the awkward connection for the duration of our goodbyes. It is a problem that I’ve always had a tough stance on. I know that if you give, they’d just rely on the source of free food instead of working and gaining the skills needed for food yet this logic does not work when people have to fight for survival at such a tender age.
“You can’t feed the hungry by giving them food”
I remember saying to Joanna as we watched the kids fight for the cookies she handed out. Aggression, frustration and violence ensued soon after, if the police wasn’t there, I wonder if they’d actually swarm us out of desperation. Can I still hold the same belief? Just the fact that you are born into a 1st world country means you’ve won the lottery ticket of birth.