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| Story from Zambia | |||||||||||||||||||
   |  | . “It’s difficult to have two children,” she says, sadness in her eyes. “The children want to eat, but I don’t have anything to feed them.” On good days, the days there is food, Joyce makes the boys a thin porridge with a little bit of maize meal and some salt – if she has salt. At noon, they eat the same thing, only thicker. In the late afternoon, they’ll have more porridge, called Nshima, and vegetables if Joyce can find them – sometimes cabbage leaves that kind neighbours give her. It’s not much to feed her growing boys. “’Mama, we are so hungry, the children cry,’ says Joyce, “but I have nothing to give them. That’s when I’m forced to go and beg.” When Joyce was a little girl she had high hopes and dreams. “I wanted to go to school and get an education so I could help my parents,” she says. But her parents didn’t have enough money to keep the little girl in school so she dropped out. Now Joyce spends her time doing two things: “I’m either looking for food, or I’m trying to grow food.” The fibroids slow her down. “It’s hard to cultivate when I’m sick, but I do it slowly; just bit by bit.” Page 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | | |||||||||||||||||
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