The children’s gangly, waiflike arms encircled my neck in unrestrained gratitude. Their toothy grins made the past four weeks of grueling work in Guatemala worth it.
The kids at the Open Windows Foundation in San Miguel Dúenas were calling me an “angel” for buying them one flimsy patty. Their eyes rolled back in reverence with each bite, and silence enveloped the courtyard while their slow chewing filled the courtroom like a rhythmic mantra.
Slyly, one girl—about four years old with plaited pigtails and a faded lemon dress—neatly folded up her half-eaten burger, and slid it into her pocket. I witnessed, with curiosity, as every child followed suit. Remnants of burgers disappeared, one by one, inside homemade dresses and pants.
“No Gusta?” I asked in disjointed Spanish if the kids were not enjoying their surprise. When they rubbed their stomachs and smiled, I was bewildered. Later, I was told softly by a worker that these children, with a maturity far surpassing their age, were saving dinner for their parents at home.
I had never come across this raw type of hunger before. To the children of this impoverished Spanish community, the three dollar burger at McDonalds was a delicacy. The children’s pure and untainted joy and selflessness took away any lingering pain in my body. At that moment, I knew that happiness is much more attainable when you know what it is to have nothing.
If four-year-old children can save half a burger for their parents for supper, then perhaps, I can follow their lead as well. I have disregarded privileges such as food, education, home, transportation and clothes in the past but the joyous children in Dúenas changed that. Somehow, they flourish without objects I have deemed so vital, and rather take joy in sharing and simple miracles.
A bite of a burger changed the way I looked at the world. Happiness is what you make it to be, and I just happened to be lucky enough to learn it from the children of San Miguel Dúenas.
