I think poverty must have been on my mind lately. This is the third post in the last two weeks addressing issues of wealth and justice, and the third post that asks a question because I am so far from having all the answers. Today’s is at A Life Overseas. I had a hard time coming up with a photo for you on this post. You’ll have to click over to see what I finally settled on. Unless you want to see those Magnum Bars.
Here’s a taste, to wet your appetite…
My 7-year old went to Somali/Arab/Afar dance class Saturday afternoon. The guard outside informed us that there was no longer dance on Saturday afternoon, no matter that we had signed up, no matter that we had paid just last week.
Discouraged, we ran errands instead and ended up at a store which sells Magnum Bars. Be thankful drool doesn’t come through the internet. Mmmm….Magnum Bars….mmmm…My husband was a country away, my twins were at boarding school two countries away, dance class was canceled…We decided to buy two ice cream bars and eat them while taking a stroll through the neighborhood together.
I left the store with three little white plastic bags of items like canned corn and tomato paste and toilet paper. As I reached the car I heard my Somali name.
I knew immediately which woman it was, or rather, which type of woman it was, as awful as that sounds. And my heart sank.