My Ration Challenge Experience (Conclusion)
Sorry for taking so long to post the conclusion of this adventure, folks. Between moving, getting a new job and joining a Boot Camp fitness program, I've had a lot on my mind. Not to mention, I'm just experiencing this massive creative block that makes it seem as if my writing chair has spikes on it and my keyboard has needles instead of keys. So, I struggle to get myself to write on most days. But as promised, here is the documentation of my last day of the Ration Challenge, as well as my conclusion on the entire experience.
Day 7
For my final day of the Ration Challenge, I had to go to my boyfriend's cornhole tournament. (For the uninitiated, cornhole is a bean bag toss game. Some people take it pretty seriously.) I had my breakfast of congee mixed with mujadara and I bucked up for another day that would be just as hellish as Father's Day was.
The minute I arrived at the deli in Fullerton, I knew it was going to be a long day. Between the unbearable crowd of party people and the excessive amount of noise and music, I had to pray that I'd survive that day.
Fortunately, it wasn't that bad. Maybe I was just gaining a sense of equanimity that came from getting used to hunger and from gratitude for not having to live in the same conditions as refugees. Or maybe it just helped that my boyfriend lost early in the tournament and comforted me with his presence throughout the rest of the tournament. Maybe I was just becoming a better and stronger person through this experience, because I resisted all the delicious platters of sandwiches that were passing by me. Instead, I retreated to my car to take a break from the noise and to eat my unpalatable lunch of rice and beans that took on the plastic flavor of the Tupperware they were in. I could barely stand to finish it. But, I had to frequently remind myself that many people in refugee camps would be grateful to have the extra helping that I had for lunch.
As I did on Father's Day, I endured six whole hours of teeming crowds of shallow, drunken plebeians. Even when most of the couples in my boyfriend's friend group had left, he decided to stay until the very end. Even after his other two friends had lost the tournament, he felt it incumbent upon himself to remain there with the inebriated stragglers. He even wanted to continue partying back at his friend's house. I thought about going with him early in the day. But by the end of that tournament, I had to respect my limits. I was tired, hungry and irritated. I just needed to spend the rest of the day in repose so I could preserve my sanity.
When I got home, I had the final flatbread and I attempted to have the rest of the rice and beans. (There was a huge Tupperware of it left!) I couldn't stomach anymore of it. The beans were oddly too sweet by this point and I just didn't want to see another grain of rice ever again. I know it sounds petulant and ungrateful, given the reason why I was doing this. But I called it quits halfway through the meal and fasted all the way until the following morning. But if it brings you any solace, I didn't throw the leftovers away. I requested my mother to help me finish them by incorporating them into her dinners. Usually, she makes a nightly stir-fry of leftovers and tops it off with a fried egg.
All there was left to do was to spend the rest of my night reflecting on what this experience had taught me and to dream about the breakfast I'd have in the morning. The Ration Challenge team requested us to end our challenge on the following morning instead of at midnight. It was tempting to do the latter, considering that there was no way anyone would know. But I just hied myself to bed and forced myself to go to sleep.
Post-Challenge Reflection
In the morning, my beloved woke me up with a kiss and tidings of breakfast at Black Bear Diner. Oddly enough, I was more tired than I was hungry. But, I rose from bed because we had to go look at a new house, anyways.
Before we left, my aunt warned me to take it easy and to have something that my stomach could endure more readily. I informed her that if I died, I died. As long as I got to have a good breakfast. I ended up having waffles with scrambled eggs, a sausage link and a bacon strip. (Which I don't have a picture of, because I forgot to take one. I was too busy with the blissful act of finally tasting flavor after an entire week of saltless rice, lentils and beans.)
The only adverse reactions I had after that huge breakfast was that I had to go to the bathroom a lot. And for some reason, everything that came out was painful and...spicy.
After having a good meal, it was easier for me to look back on my week and to appreciate the experience a lot more. In the end, I raised $132.50. I didn't reach my goal of $450, but I'm grateful for what my funds would afford for a refugee family. Thanks to my sponsors, refugee families will get ration packs for a year. Thanks to my sponsors, refugee kids will get school packs that will allow them to continue their studies.
As I've repeated many times, this experience ends for me. I can look forward to a morning of waffles and eggs with certainty. I can look forward to going back to a normal life in the near future. But for them, life will be hell indefinitely. They may possibly never have the chance to see their old home or their old country ever again.
This experience for me has been as soulful as it has been harrowing. What I'm going to say will sound terribly privileged and first-world, but I feel like I've connected with refugees on a far deeper level through this challenge. Knowing something as visceral and primal as their hunger makes all the pragmatic (actually fallacious) arguments about the how immigrants affect the economy or public benefits completely pale in comparison.
I do recommend all people to try the Ration Challenge. Love refugees? Do the challenge. You are about to love them a lot more. Kind of like or sympathize with the refugees? Do the challenge. You will become more impassioned for their cause. Hate refugees? Do the challenge. Maybe they will take years to sprout, but the seeds of compassion and empathy will be planted in your mind. Indifferent about refugees? Do the challenge. Your perspective is about to change.
Day 7
For my final day of the Ration Challenge, I had to go to my boyfriend's cornhole tournament. (For the uninitiated, cornhole is a bean bag toss game. Some people take it pretty seriously.) I had my breakfast of congee mixed with mujadara and I bucked up for another day that would be just as hellish as Father's Day was.
The minute I arrived at the deli in Fullerton, I knew it was going to be a long day. Between the unbearable crowd of party people and the excessive amount of noise and music, I had to pray that I'd survive that day.
Fortunately, it wasn't that bad. Maybe I was just gaining a sense of equanimity that came from getting used to hunger and from gratitude for not having to live in the same conditions as refugees. Or maybe it just helped that my boyfriend lost early in the tournament and comforted me with his presence throughout the rest of the tournament. Maybe I was just becoming a better and stronger person through this experience, because I resisted all the delicious platters of sandwiches that were passing by me. Instead, I retreated to my car to take a break from the noise and to eat my unpalatable lunch of rice and beans that took on the plastic flavor of the Tupperware they were in. I could barely stand to finish it. But, I had to frequently remind myself that many people in refugee camps would be grateful to have the extra helping that I had for lunch.
As I did on Father's Day, I endured six whole hours of teeming crowds of shallow, drunken plebeians. Even when most of the couples in my boyfriend's friend group had left, he decided to stay until the very end. Even after his other two friends had lost the tournament, he felt it incumbent upon himself to remain there with the inebriated stragglers. He even wanted to continue partying back at his friend's house. I thought about going with him early in the day. But by the end of that tournament, I had to respect my limits. I was tired, hungry and irritated. I just needed to spend the rest of the day in repose so I could preserve my sanity.
When I got home, I had the final flatbread and I attempted to have the rest of the rice and beans. (There was a huge Tupperware of it left!) I couldn't stomach anymore of it. The beans were oddly too sweet by this point and I just didn't want to see another grain of rice ever again. I know it sounds petulant and ungrateful, given the reason why I was doing this. But I called it quits halfway through the meal and fasted all the way until the following morning. But if it brings you any solace, I didn't throw the leftovers away. I requested my mother to help me finish them by incorporating them into her dinners. Usually, she makes a nightly stir-fry of leftovers and tops it off with a fried egg.
All there was left to do was to spend the rest of my night reflecting on what this experience had taught me and to dream about the breakfast I'd have in the morning. The Ration Challenge team requested us to end our challenge on the following morning instead of at midnight. It was tempting to do the latter, considering that there was no way anyone would know. But I just hied myself to bed and forced myself to go to sleep.
Post-Challenge Reflection
In the morning, my beloved woke me up with a kiss and tidings of breakfast at Black Bear Diner. Oddly enough, I was more tired than I was hungry. But, I rose from bed because we had to go look at a new house, anyways.
Before we left, my aunt warned me to take it easy and to have something that my stomach could endure more readily. I informed her that if I died, I died. As long as I got to have a good breakfast. I ended up having waffles with scrambled eggs, a sausage link and a bacon strip. (Which I don't have a picture of, because I forgot to take one. I was too busy with the blissful act of finally tasting flavor after an entire week of saltless rice, lentils and beans.)
The only adverse reactions I had after that huge breakfast was that I had to go to the bathroom a lot. And for some reason, everything that came out was painful and...spicy.
After having a good meal, it was easier for me to look back on my week and to appreciate the experience a lot more. In the end, I raised $132.50. I didn't reach my goal of $450, but I'm grateful for what my funds would afford for a refugee family. Thanks to my sponsors, refugee families will get ration packs for a year. Thanks to my sponsors, refugee kids will get school packs that will allow them to continue their studies.
As I've repeated many times, this experience ends for me. I can look forward to a morning of waffles and eggs with certainty. I can look forward to going back to a normal life in the near future. But for them, life will be hell indefinitely. They may possibly never have the chance to see their old home or their old country ever again.
This experience for me has been as soulful as it has been harrowing. What I'm going to say will sound terribly privileged and first-world, but I feel like I've connected with refugees on a far deeper level through this challenge. Knowing something as visceral and primal as their hunger makes all the pragmatic (actually fallacious) arguments about the how immigrants affect the economy or public benefits completely pale in comparison.
I do recommend all people to try the Ration Challenge. Love refugees? Do the challenge. You are about to love them a lot more. Kind of like or sympathize with the refugees? Do the challenge. You will become more impassioned for their cause. Hate refugees? Do the challenge. Maybe they will take years to sprout, but the seeds of compassion and empathy will be planted in your mind. Indifferent about refugees? Do the challenge. Your perspective is about to change.
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