This is my write-up on the 30 Hours Famine (16th, 17th June) organized by World Vision after sleeping an incredulous 14 hours.
One buffet before, one buffet after, that was the initial idea I had came up with to cope with the radical rigors of hunger for 30 hours. The rationale was to compensate in advance for the equivalent solid mass in between missing meals, the same way hibernating animals did to tide over winter, and typical
kiasuism in application. Having once opted to fast for 12 hours which didn't turn out that well afterwards with periodic gastric pangs, I didn't see how much torturous that would be for over twice that duration. Hence the double gorging escapades sounded potent in the war against our own hunger.
Reality-wise, plans and people don't go hand in hand, as always. Republic Polytechnic isn't that far from my house, by bike per se. Hence I cycled there before the event opening. We had a few hours in advance for lunch (buffet), but my mates felt reluctant to perform the 15 minute walk to Causeway Point whilst I cycled. So I settled at cycling back home for more logistical supplies and downing a McSpicy meal myself, only forgetting to bring the pack of cards I intended to. Just to talk about the RP compound, despite the gray exteriors, the design is far better than most schools. And there's a plethora of air-conditioned areas and high ceilings which make it resemble an airport lounge.
Registering at the counter, we were given a log book, our 2 T-shirts, and told which out of 8 different developing countries that we would be assigned to. Likely out of administrative simplicity, most of the AC people were assigned to Bangladesh and would be making the trip to Metta Home the next day, resounding logic since our volunteer envoy was an old boy to start with. That meant that the group consisted of a burgeoning lot of ACJC comrades. The similarity of culture is almost indisputable given the prevalence of bridge groups that subsequently emerged and poor grasp of the Chinese language.
And I caught CNA man in action!
Anyways for Day One, we started out with the introductory talks and opening sound-off etc. This was followed by the division into respective countries and smaller family groups that would be charged to earn revenue for the country.
This was game-play to emulate the pseudo-progress of a country. People were assigned to contract various diseases and disabilities such as HIV, or being crippled or mute. Stations such as schools, hospitals, work centers were set up. You earned money by getting jobs from the work center, some requiring education from a school, whilst the HIV infected had to report there every hour for treatment at expensive price-rates. Well, one roughly got the idea about discrimination when you have to wear large HIV rubbish bags like this and get turned away from most jobs. Most amusing was the ever-increasing line at the hospital for HIV treatment.
Some dubious high paying jobs included prostitution, and the majority of people being cheapskate retards rushed for that in a bid to increase their countries' GDP. The catch at the end that everyone overlooked was a 1/3 chance of contracting HIV by throwing a dice. You later had to pay 90% of earnings for your treatment, making the whole hospital ordeal not very worth it. But being a legal police officer wasn't all that smooth sailing either, the drug lords were incredibly hard to find, thus prostitution seemed like a good alternative for a quick buck. You needn't second guess, but Bangladesh ended up with a heck lot of HIV infections, like most of the countries. Reward for the least rate of infection went to Mongolia, Vitasoy chocolate drinks. I actually prefer milk more than the chrysanthemum and green tea for an empty stomach.
Ending off the day with talks about mostly statistical facts and a candlelight session with candles representing lives that died every few minutes, there was the Cambodian kid they invited to share his life story with us in person. Ly Long collected rubbish for a living and was abused by his father, some of the girls broke down cried after hearing his story, and people gave encouraging comments during the QnA. Although some of the pressing questions such as who others like him that have not been discovered that we should be helping were not discussed. Actually that wasn't the end, the group going to the home for the intellectually disabled met up to discuss activities for the next day. Obviously violent activities were ruled out when we told that balloons would frighten them.
Come sleeping time, there were murmurs throughout the night, and I had a terrible attrition with the bugs in the carpet floor. Anyways I hugged my MacBook to sleep, or rather placing it over my abdomen for the night, thereby avoiding the horrors of waking up to flatulence and incredible gastric pains. Actually, much of those fears were over-anticipated, and the sensation of hunger was barely felt throughout the second day at all, until it ended and you started gorging yourself again.
Day Two: The AC Bangla group spent the morning drawing bingo sheets whilst the sleepy church service and stretching exercises proceeded for the rest of the camp. We proceeded to walk to the place in Marsling. It was out of this world when you stepped into the place, it resembled Raffles Hotel! The folks were rather tame except some didn't speak much and others were overtly quick at expressing their emotions through a variety of actions. I helped out in the breakfast section, some refused to eat, others had to be force-fed.
Later on we performed a singing session and some of the daring ACJC girls actually danced with the more active residents. Although in some cases, some of the residents had weird quirks that included a need to be hugged every few minutes, and drooling half the time.
Its not something to get angry or disgusted about considering their condition, but its a reason why most people shun interacting with them. Some of them were actually rather cute in the dance.
Returning back to RP by walking, I got to know more of the ACJC people like Kai who's an architecture photography freak. Anyways, we beat the lazy lot whom took the MRT back. No activities were planned for the afternoon, improvisations included more bridge and my contribution of pictures to the presentation at the 7pm concert. Come concert time, about 2 hours were left in the countdown. Various performances, sharing by World Vision Singapore ambassador Jaime about sponsoring children. Maria Kang was discussing with me the proposition of a class sponsoring 3 children, its actually very doable if everyone skips a meal at McDs each month. Then there was a local indie band called EIC. Two guitarists with great vocals to match presented their own composition and songs by other bands, would love to hear more from them in future.
The crowd went euphoric in the last few minutes of countdown, it was much like the new year one. People were literally screaming their hearts out in the final 10 seconds. Yes! We did it! It was incredible to share that sense with a hall of people. Bursting out of the hall to Burger King sponsored burgers, that was the most horrible but yet edible chicken burger ever. When you are hungry, anything is tasty, I suppose that's why I finished it somehow. The hungry ghost festival descends early!
A great success to everyone who I'm sure did not cheat even though we hardly did much to help those people directly. As terrible as it sounds, its very doable once you survive past the initial 18 hours. On the principles side, I must emphasize its not a fight against poverty, but against inequality or inequity. How do you combat against having nothing in the first place? Despite the effort of sponsors, I didn't think much of the $20 we forked out actually reached the kids given the large areas of expenses. But I guess raising awareness to all those who claimed they were there for CIP hours, is one big step to start with. And I hope everyone didn't go out of that place forgetting everything again.
Now that you have seen, you are responsible, may your heart have the will to make it so. Meanwhile, back to mugging.
