The noise was deafening as Ahmad Kareem and his younger brother, Fahd screamed rowdily, as victory against an online game of badminton was secured for the nth time. Jumping on the bed, they excitedly did a little jig to the finale music of the game blaring from the speakers. They raced toward the kitchen, having worked up quite an appetite from all the excitement and adrenaline rush the game had induced in them. With the summer vacations and the blazing heat making it unbearably hot outside; this routine had unfortunately become the norm for them. The cancellation of their eagerly anticipated trip to America only made matters worse. As a result, the boys were brimming with energy, antsy and growing wild by the minute.
Mrs. Kareem was busy in the kitchen preparing a light snack of potato cutlets, vegetable sandwiches, chicken noodles and mangoes dipped in vanilla ice-cream for her sons and husband, who had yet to return from the office. “Mama, may I please have some French fries and a chicken burger?” asked Ahmad. “Ahmad, I am already cooking all this food for you, maybe later I'll make you fries and burger, alright?” Mrs. Kareem replied patiently in a kind voice. “But mom, we want French fries and chicken burger.! And I am starving so you have to make me two,” whined Fahd, ignoring his mother's words as he sat on the kitchen counter . “I don't like potato cutlets. They are too oily” complained Ahmad with a firm nod from beside his brother. “Yes, and I hate vegetable sandwiches! I won't eat them.?” Fahd chipped in from behind. “Fahd and Ahmad, I will not tolerate any disrespect toward food. They are great blessings from Allah and you should be thankful to Him for giving us a large variety of food to choose from and eat. Now, go to your room, clean up and come to the main lounge for snacks when your father has returned. I am not making anything else and I don't want to hear another word from both of you,” said their mother sternly in a no-nonsense tone of voice. She was tired and angry with their rambunctious behavior. No matter what she prepared for them they always wanted something else; and complained endlessly at the dining table over the minutest issues, acted picky or just left food on the sides of their plates. She had asked them countless times to behave, to be thankful and God-fearing, but the effect lasted only for a few hours. She wanted to teach them a lesson, to help them understand the importance of what they have and be grateful. After the meal, she called them to her bedroom. It had a balcony which overlooked a beautiful garden. On its main entrance was a big blue trash can and sitting next to it on the pavement was a poor lady with four children. She looked helplessly toward people, wishing and waiting for someone to give them a little food or money. Two of her children were rummaging through the trash can looking for food or cans of soft drinks while the remaining two sat next to their mother on the road opening the thrown away parcels. The children sitting on the road suddenly called out to their siblings who quickly hurried over to them. They had found food in one of the parcels, a few rotten mangoes, a black, squashed banana, and a few days' old dried bread. They quickly divided the meager meal between them, devouring it at an inhuman speed as they licked their fingers, their hands, and the plastic bags in which the food was packed. The dried bread was dipped into a dirty bowl of water and was swiftly gobbled down. Mrs. Kareem then guided her sons back into the room and lead them to the window on the other side of the house which overlooked the main road.
Two men wearing blue overalls were hunched over a brown paper bag under the shade of a flimsy wide umbrella of a closed shop. The hot rays of the sun bore down on them and a small bag of rice and bottle of water was all that they had for lunch. “Do you see them my children? Look at the way they are eating the food that we threw away. And while you get to eat the finest and the freshest, they have to satisfy their appetite with our leftovers,” said their mother sadly as tears rolled down her cheeks. Ahmad and Fahd silently watched with eyes wide open. Sure, they had seen poor women several times sitting with their children and the cleaners in their light blue overalls, but they had never observed them so closely. In fact, on various occasions they had bullied the children or made fun of their color and clothes. They couldn't get the image of the small children eating from the trash can or those two men eating only rice with water out of their minds. Full of remorse, the boys went and sat next to their mother and apologized for their behavior, promising to never throw or fuss over food, or make fun of others.
