“My father was a farmer and we had eight siblings. I went to Australia when I was fifteen because my family didn’t have enough to eat. I was on a boat for forty days. When I got there, I couldn’t find a job, I couldn’t speak English, and I had to sleep on the street. I know what it’s like. So everyday I drive the van to the port and hand out bread to the refugees. My son is my business partner. He says, ‘Baba, please. It’s fine to help. But not every day.’ But I still go every day because I know what it feels like to have nothing.” (Kos, Greece)
I chose this particular picture because this man’s story reminds me a lot of my family’s story before they came to the states. My grandmother had 10 children back in Peru and it was a struggle to try and raise them since they definitely did not have the means to live in a safer neighborhood or even put food on the table. My uncle tells stories about how my grandmother had to cook his pet chicken because there was simply no food left to eat. Therefore, when I read that this man would go to the port every day to hand out bread to the refugees because he remembers what it felt like to have nothing, I somehow felt grateful. Grateful that maybe there was someone like him who helped my family when they had nothing.