Friday, 18 January 2013

Food stamps and other humanitarian issues

Today was the first time I actually ever saw a food truck. I didn't even know what I was seeing until Drej and I put two and two together. We were coming from the doggie walk (40 cm of snow and still coming, it's magic!) and an unmarked van was gathering people and there was food being put in backpacks. At first I thought they were a bunch of culture folk going on a long trip and getting ready. In truth I hadn't even realised we've come so far. Or, as I'm being told now, we've been thus far for a while now. 
I'm wondering what I can do to help. I exist in a fairly low-consumer strata at the moment, my fridge is almost always empty and dog eats more expensive food than me, but considering that's almost a choice and that I'm writing this on an iPad, paying money rather for Warcraft gamecards than clothes, it's hardly the same, is it. The only times I've been really hungry were mostly by choice. I've purposefully gotten myslef in situations in which I was really really starving (and thirsting). They were fun. I was a tourist or, in best case scenario, experimenting. Feels almost shameful, now, by comparison. Drej told me about a theologist on TV who spoke about how children go hungry when parents are too proud to come begging for food. If I were a better person, that would make me so fundamentally enraged, I'd spit into such a man. If it made a single difference. It's been a while since scum like him have worshipped that odd crucified guy, who said see to the poor first and worship in private - as oppose to worshipping that fat old paedophile sitting on his golden throne, drinking vine from a golden cup, blessing people who hang other people for being gay. 

Damn. I wish I didn't see so many "humanitarian organisations" when I was travelling. It repells the very idea of trying to aid any. Caritas and Unicef are a joke when it comes to Africa. Even those teddy bears that gas station collect for the poor children end up as low-price garbage on bazaars, sold by some yellow-tooth punkwho also offers to sell you hashish.

Am conflicted. And normally I'm not conflicted. 

The only other predicament I have other than this, today, is whether to get another dog or not. Reason says no, brain cell says no, economy and housing status says no, even weather and bacilli say no. But I say fuck it. You're never supposed to make your life simple. that's the beginning of the end.