What Happened To Me?

The other day some kid that I never met came to the back of my house and told me that he was hungry. I told him that I didn’t have any money and went inside. When I got inside I felt kind of bad and went back out with some money hoping he was still standing out there. He was, and I gave him the money to go get something to eat.

Later in the night he came back around 11pm and knocked on my door. He asked me if he could sleep in the empty room across the way. At this point I got pretty annoyed and told him that it wasn’t my house so I couldn’t give him permission to sleep there. After that I went back inside my house and locked my door.

When I was back in the states I don’t think I would have thought twice about giving this kid some money or possibly even letting him sleep in the garage/storage room, which is basically what the room across the way is. I’m not really sure how I became so de-sensitized to poverty and people less fortunate than I am. You would think after spending nearly two years in Africa surrounded by poverty I would be more sympathetic, but I’ve become the opposite. And I don’t know if it is a good thing.