How a Hungry Little Girl in Pakistan Changed My Life

Over 5 years ago, I visited the “homeland”; I visited Pakistan. You see, my heritage is Pakistani but I wasn’t born there and I had never lived there either. For me, home was America and going to visit Pakistan for the first time since I was a baby, I wasn’t sure what to expect. I didn’t feel a particular attachment to the country, but I loved it dearly as its culture has shaped who I am today.

As I got off the plane and landed in Karachi, a major city in Pakistan, the first thing I felt was the heat. Despite it being nighttime, I stepped outside the door and felt the almost suffocating heat hug me.

Along with the heat was the liveliness of the country that I now come to miss. There was loud chatter, the sound of rumbling rickshaws, and the joyous noise of reuniting family members. It may have been late in the night, but the streets were packed and the lights were bright. It might as well have been a Saturday afternoon!

As I took a cab to go to my family’s house, I watched the country from the backseat window in awe. The country was beautiful and lively. People packed themselves on motorcycles (more people than what's safe) and shops and restaurants were bright and bustling with customers. It was fascinating to see the stark differences in some of the underprivileged areas as compared to the more privileged areas.

In some places, the pavement of the roads was littered with discarded items; plastic bags floating wistfully as cars passed by it. In other places, the streets were pristine; with mansions overlooking them. The income inequality was both apparent and appalling. I was lucky enough to be staying in a privileged area where my relatives lived. But, anyone who’s visited Pakistan knows that the dark reality of a lot of Pakistan is inescapable.

During the course of my trip, I explored the beautiful country that is Pakistan. The food was bursting with flavor, the shops were lively and bursting with color, and there was so much to do and see! I visited the beach and even rode a camel! I saw so many rural animals roaming the streets and befriended a few. As a cat lover, it was amazing to see how many cats casually roam the streets and befriend Pakistanis. Quickly, the country which I had never felt particularly attached to quickly nestled deep in my heart.

One day, I was eating lunch in a hurry; ready to go out for the day. I was running behind and nowhere near done with my meal while my family waited patiently and then impatiently for me. Finally, my mom suggested I take my plate with me and finish my lunch in the car. Relieved to have the pressure off of me, I took my plate with me in the car.

As we drove through Pakistan’s notorious traffic (in part due to the congestion of vehicles and in part due to many Pakistanis ignoring basic driving rules), we came to a point where the traffic was bumper to bumper. The street was completely full and we couldn’t even move.

As we sat in the car, I noticed my surroundings which were now clear as opposed to the blur of the car’s speed. The car was stuck in traffic in a more rural and underprivileged part of the city and I saw up close just how devastating poverty is in Pakistan. There were homeless people everywhere, with trash scatted around where they sat. I saw hungry kids, hungry elderly citizens, and everything in between.

But, there was one little girl who caught my eye. And she caught mine too. She was very young and stood by her even younger little sister. She looked to be about 9 or 10, but not like any other 9 or 10-year-olds I knew. Her hair was matted and streaked with dirt and dust. Her clothes were torn and ratted. She and her sister’s faces were smeared with dirt and her eyes seemed to be shiny with tears. She looked into our car longingly; hungrily ogling the food in my lap.

Her hair was matted and streaked with dirt and dust. Her clothes were torn and ratted. Her and her sister’s faces were smeared with dirt and her eyes seemed to be shiny with tears.

My aunt asked her what she wanted and the little girl brought her fingers to her mouth in the universal sign for “food”. In her tiny voice, she said she was hungry. She stood outside the car with such vulnerability that my heart shattered. Here stood before me a little girl who stood outside on the street; hungry, while I sat in the comfort of my car with food on my lap like it was nothing. I was ashamed; I hadn’t properly valued something I got that others had to beg for.

As we looked around in the car for something to give to the little girl and her sister, she stared at us; hopeful that we would find something. When we didn’t, we offered her my plate to which her face brightened as she nodded feverishly.

We handed her the plate and the moment that followed after changed my life.

She took the plate and immediately lowered it to her sister’s level and they started to dig in. What shocked me the most was that the plate had lentils; a common dish for Pakistanis. Yet, the little girl and her sister ate it like it was candy; like it was a dish saved only for special treats. She split the lentils evenly between her and her sister and once they got toward the end, they licked the plate clean; not wanting anything to go to waste.

Yet, the little girl and her sister ate it like it was candy; like it was a dish saved only for special treats.

As I saw them savor the lentils, I realized how I had become so accustomed to food; so much so that I came to the epiphany that I took it for granted. How many times had I groaned when my mom made lentils at home? How many times had I eaten food quickly; not even realizing the taste or savoring the textures? How many times had I greedily gobbled food versus how many times I thought about all of the hungry people in the world? Too many and not enough.

After we drove away from the little girl and her sister, I couldn’t shake the image of her hungry eyes from my head. Years later and I can still see her perfectly clear. I wonder about her from time to time. She isn’t a little girl anymore. Is she still hungry? How’s her little sister?

The encounter with her has made me so passionate about hungry children and every time I think of the issue, my heart shatters and my eyes become rivers. After not eating for just a few hours, I become cranky and tired; and I am an adult. I can handle the pain of being hungry. But what about children? How difficult must it be for their developing bodies to be denied food? How must they feel?

According to the USAID website, around 45% of Pakistan’s children under 5 years old are stunted. The crisis isn’t only in Pakistan either. It’s in every country and it must stop.

If you can donate to feed the hungry, please do. And the next time you eat something think of those who can’t; those who would do anything to get even a morsel of what you are eating. It is imperative that we are grateful for the many luxuries we have; unlike the girl in Pakistan whose, hungry eyes still haunt me.