The document contains a description of a personal experience when being served at a soup kitchen. The story revolves around three friends who partook in the assignment and met two people who were regular users of the kitchen services. The experience proved to be inspiring, and the friends felt that they had made some good friends.
Diversity Experience Reflection
Today, hunger is perhaps one of the world's greatest tragedies. This is especially the case when considering the great prosperity with which some people live today. Even an average, middle class citizen can rely on at least three meals per day. In fact, the average United States citizen is so prosperous that obesity is a very common problem. Yet, in this very prosperous country, where plenty can be counted upon on a daily basis, many suffer from hunger. The same is true of the world at large. The earth has been coaxed and fertilized to provide its populace not only with enough to serve the needs of every living being, but also to serve the addictions and cravings of many. Hence, there is more than enough to provide for the basic subsistence needs of all citizens, particularly in the United States. Providing soup kitchens for the hungry and destitute is one of the ways in which those who do not suffer can use their own prosperity for the good of others. I would imagine, however, that it is a little different to be at the receiving side of the soup kitchen. To become aware of the various ways in which people might experience being served in a soup kitchen, two friends and I decided to visit one of these establishments as part of the population being served.
We arrived fairly early in the morning at about 7am. I was a little surprised to see that the line of people waiting to be served was already fairly long. We fell into place at the back of the line. We took care to wear some of our older garments to not stand out too much. Nobody took a lot of notice of us, but at first we felt a little awkward, almost like undercover police pretending to be what we are not. Indeed, this is what we were. We waited about 15 minutes before the kitchen opened and the line began to move. The line had grown steadily, and we were about in the middle. At this point, we started taking closer notice of our surroundings and those around us.
The door led into a clean interior with a number of tables and chairs. This reminded me of a restaurant setup, although there were no waitresses or well-polished cutlery. Those who run the kitchen, however, clearly took a lot of trouble to keep the environment clean and sanitary. This moved me, since it struck me that the soup kitchen might be the only interior that some of the food recipients would see throughout the day.
When we entered the building, the first thing we encountered was a table with eating utensils. There were bowls for the soup and plates for the buns that would be served with it. We each took one of each and moved along the line to be served. There were several large pots of soup, from which two women and one man were serving the recipients with soup. The buns and sandwiches were at the far end of the table, and we served ourselves.
The atmosphere inside the kitchen was a combination of aroma and a collective sense of joviality. Some of the recipients clearly came to the kitchen regularly and spoke a few words when they reached the servers. The atmosphere was very relaxed and friendly, and we soon felt at ease among the other food recipients. A lot of recipients also knew each other and shared their tables, talking while they ate. What struck me was that nobody was in any particular rush to finish eating, although the line outside was still long and the kitchen was filling up fast. As soon as someone got up, a new person took his or her place.
When we were ready to sit down, I couldn't find an empty seat anywhere. Suddenly, a deep voice behind us said "Hey, you're new, come and sit with us." The owner of the voice was a tall black man in a tan trench coat. His smile was big and friendly. A small old Indian woman shared the table with him. She eyed us a little warily, but didn't make any objection when we sat down. The black man's name was Tom and the woman was called Areena. As we sat down and started eating, I was once again surprised. The soup was rich and delicious and the rolls and sandwiches were made with clear effort behind it. Tom smiled at us as he ate and started asking questions about where we came from, what our names were, and so on. We had a background story ready about the circumstances that necessitated our use of the soup kitchen. Tom seemed genuinely interested, and even Areena began to look like she was listening now and again.
We asked Tom some questions as well, and he revealed that he grew up in difficult circumstances. His mother was forced to raise him and three brothers by herself while also working to make ends meet. His big dream was to be in a position some day where he would be able to offer food to others, rather than taking it from those who served in the soup kitchen. Towards the end of the meal, Tom and Areena were both sharing their stories and the plans they had for the rest of the day. Areena was also part of a large family when she grew up, and also came from a poor household. When she married, things were a little better, but her husband died, leaving her with a large amount of debts. This thrust her back into poverty. Nevertheless, she smiled as she shared with us how the soup kitchen meal was the favorite time of her day, not only for the meal, but also for the friendships she had made.
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