Lesson from a poor child

Standfirst: A family on holiday learns the true meaning of sharing.

By Saleh Mohammed

If you’ve ever gone shopping in Bandung, you’ll understand why my family had our lunch at 4pmwhen we were there recently to spend Father’s Day.

We chose a food court next to the Heritage outlet where we had just spent millions of rupiah.

As we were about to make our orders, a little girl—she looked no older than seven—approached us to sell packets of tissue paper. The packets came in a size much bigger than the kind we see blind people selling in mamak restaurants here. She was selling them at Rp8,000 a packet, but offering three for Rp15,000.

I bought some at the offer price. She smiled, and it was then that I noticed how frail her body was. I couldn’t help asking if she had had lunch, and I realised as soon as she answered what a stupid question it was.

I showed her the pictures on the menu and asked which of the items she had always wanted but never tried before. She instantly pointed to the picture of a single scoop of ice cream topped with nuts. I told her she could have that one, but must also eat something more substantial. She asked for nasi goreng.

We chatted while waiting for our orders and I learnt she had six siblings, including one younger than herself.

A few minutes later, our drinks and her ice cream came. I handed the cone to her and she accepted it politely. While we enjoyed our drinks, she waited patiently for her nasi goreng and held on to her ice cream without giving it even one lick.

I told her to eat it before it melted. Her response struck me dumb; she wanted to take it home to share with her younger sister.

Here we were celebrating Father’s Day in a foreign city and enjoying a nice meal with a little girl who had never tasted ice cream before and who didn’t mind it melting as long as she could share it with a loved one.

One small child had just reminded me of the true meaning of sharing.

As I sit here thinking about her and how lucky I am with the abundance that God has given me, my hand automatically reaches for a tissue paper from one of the packets we had brought home with us. They sure are handy for moments like this.