by Virginia Sowers, ChildFund Community Manager
My small backyard garden hasn’t had much attention lately. It’s been oppressively hot this summer in Richmond, and we’ve had little rain in the past month. Suffice to say that I gave in to the elements and got a bit slack about nurturing my plants.
But this morning, following a refreshing overnight rain, I ventured out to the weed patch — er, garden — and poked around. I was disappointed to find my largest, yet not-quite-ripe, cantaloupe pocked with two bird beak-sized holes and its stem knocked off. The crowder peas, which yielded one family-size mess about a month ago, have now dried on the vine. The arugula has bolted and bloomed — nothing tasty there. I did manage to rescue a green pepper and a dozen small figs.
I had already started my mental list for the grocery store when it hit me hard. The children and families that ChildFund is rushing aid to in the Horn of Africa don’t have that option — not even close. They would be thrilled to have a damaged melon, a crisp pepper and a handful of figs. But what would they eat tomorrow?
And what would I do if I was depending on my meager garden to carry my family through three more months until the next harvest in November? I’d certainly be pulling out my weeding hoe and my garden hose. But wait — what if I’d already sold my tools to raise cash for food, and what if my community well had long since gone dry?
What would I do then?
It’s a grim thought, one that those of us in developed nations tend to quickly brush aside. Even with the ongoing economic uncertainty, the vast majority of us have plenty to eat and drink.
This afternoon, as I drive to the grocery store, I’ll be thinking more about necessities than luxuries. I should be able to save enough to make a donation to ChildFund’s ChildAlert Emergency Fund. I know the East African children who are hungry and thirsty are counting on my support.
Please join me.