Guiltily, I polish off the rest of the marshmallows this morning. In an attempt at counterbalance, I follow them up with some of my green pea and spinach soup. To avoid thinking about how unappetizing the pea glop is, I let my mind drift. I ponder the accuracy of the 30/30 experiment. Turning to Wikipedia, my favorite source of information (besides my mother), I learn that 36.2% of people in Africa actually live on less than $1 a day. Every day. Not just 30 of them.
What everyone tells me I am crazy to be doing, over a third of the African population is used to. I can bear these 30 days with a smile, knowing that there is an end in sight. I fully intend to dive headfirst into a glorious pool of gluttony as soon as day 31 rolls around. This knowledge buoys me when I might otherwise fall into a state of hunger despair. But what if this was life?
I promise not to let my blog entries become morose. I certainly don’t think anyone I know is responsible for world hunger, and I don’t pretend to know how to solve it. I’m just saying that we should be thankful for what we do have, and help where we can. As I eat my lunch of falafel taco, I remember that there are those who go without.
During my dinner of whirled peas and spinach, I wish for an exchange program which would allow me to turn in my gross Creole seasoning for a giant jug of Texas Pete. I try to be content, though, knowing that the worst of my complaints aren’t half bad. I have food to eat, a roof over my head, a job that pays the bills, a husband who loves me, a supportive family, and ridiculous friends.