The UN has said that global food shortage is worsening. A sixth of the world's population are possibly on their way to death as we speak. No shit.
I was saddened but not surprised by the fact that Asia and the Pacific has the largest number of hungry people - 642 million.
The possibility that an acquaintance or a distant relative of mine sits in a shack in a remote area in the Philippines, waiting for judgment day as their stomachs cry for nourishment, is chilling.
The numbers translate to reality, and the reality is scaring me.
Half the word away, things are plastic-fantastic.
Every table of every restaurant shamelessly displays half-eaten sandwiches and untouched salads.
In our own pantry, rice is spilled on the floor as if it were the last thing the world needs.
At my place, panic-bought fruits rot away in the fridge as I calmly smoke cigarette after cigarette on the balcony, my mind flying from mundane thoughts to matters of the heart, and back.
Though I am facing a lot of challenges in my life lately, I must consider myself lucky to be in a situation that does not require food aid. I can eat whenever I want, stay healthy and be sure that I will not die of starvation.
So now that world hunger has just been added to the list of my concerns in life, I have the moral obligation to help. And despite my meager savings and lowly status in this world, I am more than capable of reaching out to those in need. And I will.
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