Sunday - February 1 - 2009
Facilitators: Bobby, Sharon, Hanady, ACS students
It’s always been important to me that we leave whatever facilities we use for this project, clean, before we go. Simply it makes a good impression – and it’s the right thing to do. I am extremely appreciative that my employer, the American Community School of Beirut, grants me unlimited access to use the ACS facilities for my project .
After seeing the kids off on the bus, I prepared one final visual sweep with my volunteers to make sure everything was clean and picked up before we left. Amidst my inspection, I noticed these rice-puffed chips all over the multi-purpose gym floor. I smirked and shook my head thinking to myself, if the elementary school administration, buildings and grounds manager, or the gym teachers saw evidence of this, at least one of the three would have my head – for certain. I heard the voice repeat over and over in my head from Mr. Bedeir, “David, absolutely no food is allowed in the multi-purpose room.” The more this echoed, the more my head shook, slightly ashamed.
But, to credit myself, on this outing, we did in fact have our pizza downstairs in the auditorium, the “designated food area.” However, apparently, while some of our kids were putting the finishing touches on their puppet creations, the others who were already satisfied with their masterpieces, went up to play in the multi-purpose room with some of our high-school student volunteers. And with them, apparently, they had entered in also, their bags of chips (previously purchased in their camp). These chips are quite popular in the camps by the way – I always see these Mar Elias camp kids, in particular, eating them. They’re kind of like cheesy puffs, but plain white, without the fluorescent orange coloring. I find them tasteless, but the kids love the texture and the airiness about them, I guess.
Anyhow, these flavorless rice puffs were now strewn about this multi-purpose room – something strictly forbidden.
As I was assessing the mess, I observed some of these airy crisps rolling about from the breeze. I enjoyed watching them. Some had been stomped on, leaving piles of crumbs, and some were whole still, wavering ever so gently from the draft. Struck, I began to actually appreciate this moment. It was evidence that not just kids were in this gym, but my kids. These were rice puffed chips from my kids, my special crew, from the Mar Elias Palestinian refugee camp.
I zoned out a bit while watching these chips roll around. A movie-reel began to play in my head as I imagined the potential scenarios: One of the boys’ chips bag went flying as he tried to catch a ball. Or was it a girl who had a tough time opening her bag, and upon struggling to unseal it, burst it open, and the chips flying? These mental envisages grew, real, as if I were re-creating each scene with ghosts. I stood there producing and directing my own personal mental movie – such as a lonely detective would, first to arrive at a crime scene.
As my creative imagery slowly began to fade, I soon was confronted with reality again. After squinting, and blinking a few times, I started to clean up some of the larger pieces of trash. While finishing up, I had asked the janitors to make sure that the final tiny scraps of crumbs and chips were cleaned up before they left – as to avoid any complaints Monday morning. They very willingly agreed to help me out.
But, as I walked down the stairs, there was a tiny part of me wishing that a couple chips did still remain, and that the janitors would overlook a corner of crumbs. There was a part of me that actually wished I’d be confronted on Monday morning and would have to explain why I had let this happen.
…Because I can think of over a million reasons why these kids deserve to eat their rice puffed chips in this multi-purpose room – regardless of the rule. I’m just waiting for somebody to approach me - so I can begin to tell them… all the reasons why.
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