They all stand in a line, styrofoam plates in their hands. Children no older than ten wait one behind another in the queue, under the blue sky, on an open ground beside the camp. The table of free food is set before them, and they move forward like the tail of a single organism. The table owners are the most content of all. They belong to a new banner, formed as a final evaluation project under a program. The group members are young, and just as puberty marks the teenage years, a sense of invincibility comes bundled with pre-adulthood. Perhaps that is what drives these emerging adults, the semi-middle-class pride of their families, out here into the middle of the marshes, kilometers away from their homes, trying to prove a point.
Man, in his nature, will search for meaning in the deepest trench of his actions. It is simply wrong to say that humans help each other. The barter system of inherent inhumanness demands a take for every give.
They are here providing aid, but against a payment of some form: feeding the needy in return for a badge of piousness. That is what feeds their own hunger, what lets them sleep soundly at night and dream of the heavens they hope to reach. Heavens. What a word. Perhaps the quest for heaven is what really motivates a human to kindle a hell in this world, so that he can take part in putting it out and earn himself a place above.
As for the children, they are busy laughing the moment off. They have already seen several other projects established, organizations set up, tables placed, humans bartering, and themselves standing on the other end. Many have come and gone before, with their desires of ending poverty. But the people in these camps know better than anyone that to put out the fire of hell, the rivers of heaven must stop flowing. If that does not happen, it remains an act of mere show.
These angels from the heavens have stepped down to earth to provide shelter to the homeless. The irony is that for them to be angels, someone has to live with no home.
