Staring up at the tin-covered ceiling, listening to raindrops drum overhead and the frantic scurry of rodents above me, the putrid stench of last night’s garbage drifting in through the window, I wondered if this was the life I was destined to live forever.
“Get up!” my mother hissed. “It’s time to help us make some money so we can eat today.” She shoved an old rice sack into my hands.
I fumbled with the filthy, torn bag and looked up at her tired, deeply lined face—far too worn for someone her age. Poverty and hardship had carved themselves into her skin. With pleading eyes and a voice barely above a whisper, I asked, “Could I please go to school today?”
“School?” she scoffed, laughter sharp and bitter. “How do you think we could ever afford that? We can barely eat once a day. Unless the gods decide to give us some miracle—which they never do—that will never happen.” She turned away, her voice hardening. “Now go. Rummage through the trash and find something we can sell at the market so we can eat tonight.”
She paused, lowering her voice. “Your father spent all his wages on marijuana and alcohol again. There’s no breakfast—just a little sugar for your chai. Drink it quickly and quietly. You know how he is when he’s been drinking all night.”
I obeyed without a word and stepped outside, praying to the gods that today I might find something—anything—worth selling. My stomach cramped with hunger as I sifted through the slimy, foul-smelling trash lining the road. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten more than a plate of plain rice.
After nearly an hour of finding nothing but reasons to retch up the weak tea I’d swallowed that morning, something unexpected caught my eye. A flyer, slightly crumpled but still readable, lay among the refuse.
Computer Center Opening Next Week. All Welcome.
My heart raced. Could this be real? The idea of learning to use a computer sparked a hope I’d never felt before. Maybe there was a God who saw me—who had a purpose for my life beyond this endless cycle of hunger, fear, and shame.
I decided then that I would find this computer center. I would find a way to attend. Maybe this was my way out—freedom from scrounging through trash, from drunken beatings in the night, from a life without choice.
Maybe one day, I thought, I could afford curry and lentils to go with my rice.