Africa

    So as I read The heart and the fist in my English course it takes me back to some of my first contracting gigs. I was doing maritime security for cargo ships taking U.S. aid to the different countries of Africa. I had been to Djibouti before, but that was while I was still in the Marine Corps. I remember as our vessel began to dock, thousands of locals where sitting in a huge line wrapping up and down the port. None of them had shoes, they wore old ratted up American themed sport shirts and baseball caps. There were maybe a dozen individuals wearing reflective vest, and come to find out these where actually employees of the port. Once we where tied down the line scattered like cockroaches when you turned on a light, gathering around the vest wearing employees like a piece of leftover dinner someone had forgotten to pick up. It was crazy! They waved their hands and screamed as the employee picked out who would work a 24 hour shift. They did this every morning. The same dog and pony show, all so they could support their family.
     I was in charge of searching and clearing everyone that came on the ship or off. The individuals would be exhausted both coming on and going off. They were moving hundred pound bags of dehydrated corn, peas and rice off of the ship. So it was extremely labor intensive work. Come to find out they where making a mere 2 dollars USD a 24 hour shift. I was not allowed to let anyone take anything off the ship, even if it fell out of the bags. It was considered stealing from the United States government while it was on board our vessel. Once it was downloaded though it was Tanzania's property and I had no authority. It was truly sad I had to take the liter water bottles they had filled with whatever had fallen out of the bags. The citizens would plead telling me their kids where starving, and it broke my heart. I let a lot slide under my nose, they would hug me and thank me for helping their families. The poverty was so bad I remember watching a kid, roughly 13, beg all morning for a shift. The kid had no shoes, sweat pants that were cut off but no shirt. I watched him waiting for the pallets to descend from the ship to the port deck so he could jump up and unload them. Some bags fell from the pallet and they broke open. The port had individuals with brooms on hand to sweep up the mess instantly. The poor 13 year old was so hungry he got on his hands and knees and began sifting through dust for the pieces of rice left over from the sweepers. He ate what he found raw off of the ground. Then, when the next pallet came down he would jump up and begin to off load it. He kept this cycle for 24 hours.
     It makes you appreciate what you have in this world when have seen the things I have been able to. If only Americans would work as hard as that little 13 year old did then maybe we would be more grateful. I will never forget that day, and I pray he is still alive. That kid changed me in so many was and he does not even know it. So thank you young man I appreciate it.