What A Hungry Refugee Child In Turkey Taught Me

As I stepped off the beautiful Bosphorus cruise in Istanbul, my hair was beehived with wind and ocean breeze. I walked with a sway in my step; still used to the rocking motion of the boat. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, burning the sky in an extravagant fashion.

With the luxury and opulence of the boat ride came the stark contrast of stepping back onto land. As the area wasn’t a touristy area, there was trash strewn onto the road and many families sat on the street with signs pleading for food. It was the hard reality of how millions of people around the world live.

One particular family sat on the road with a sign that said “We are from Syria. Please help.” Upon seeing my family and I, five boys and two girls, all certainly under the age of 10, rushed over to us in a flurry.

They said words in Arabic; words I couldn’t understand.

But, what they were asking for was made clear by their cupping hand motion and pleading eyes; money or food.

As I saw the children fervently beg, my heart panged at the sight of a childhood so different from my own. With their cracked hands, tattered clothes, and eyes that seemed years beyond their age, it was hard to see them as children. Because as refugees, they probably had experiences that no child should have. They should be playing and laughing, not crying and begging.

I looked at them and remembered my own childhood; filled with long bike rides and hours of laughing with my friends, all with my American Girl Doll clutched firmly by my side. I had no worries other than what clothes was appropriate for my doll to wear to my friend’s picnic. I didn’t worry about any kind of money except the acorns my friends and I used as fake currency at school.

And that’s how it should be. Kids should BE kids.

But in front of me, I didn’t see childhood; but rather, a lost one. My heart panged and banged while my eyes filled with mist.

So, we handed the children whatever Turkish currency we had on us in our pockets at the time. But, as soon we gave what we had, there were suddenly more children, their pleas now louder. They were desperate to get whatever they could.

We tried explaining to the children that we didn’t have any more cash or food with us. But, they kept pleading, hoping we weren’t telling the truth. With the language barriers, we had to communicate with hand motions; an unreliable language.

One child, however, a thin boy, was saying something a little different.

His eyes were frantic, his hands motioning wildly to a woman with a frail baby in her arms. A newborn, wrapped in a thin cloth, crying with a heartbreaking screech. She couldn’t use words or hand motions like the other children to indicate she was hungry. But, the boy, her brother, was her biggest advocate.

We tried explaining to the boy that we had nothing to give. Not only were we tourists with none of our personal belongings, but we also had given the children everything we had. In that moment, I wish I had brought something to give him and his baby sister. I beat myself up mentally for being a contributing loser in this situation. How incompetent was I to not have anything for this poor child?

It was beginning to get dark and we still had to make the long way back to the hotel. We began walking.

So did the boy.

He followed us for about another mile. Silently, shadowing our steps. With each step, I felt shame and sadness. After a while, he stepped in front of us and began to motion with his hands again.

This time, it was a bit different. He mimed a box and then a baby in his arms. Upon seeing the confusion on our faces, he made a drinking motion with his hands.

Milk for his baby sister. We could buy it with our credit cards.

The boy was on a quest. He led us to three different shops before we finally found a shop with baby formula. With the two first shops that didn’t have baby formula in stock, he didn’t get frustrated or give up. He just led us right to the next shop.

We walked and we walked and we walked. We got tired, but he walked with a pep in his step. He was determined and just the chance was enough to bring a smile to his face.

When was the last time I chased something with such determination? When was the last time just a glimmer of hope brought me such happiness?

When we found the third shop that carried the baby formula, we ended up buying the boy two boxes of formula. His smile is something I’ll never forget. His face lit up with glee and he was laughing and jumping with joy.

I couldn’t help but notice, this was all for his sister. He hadn’t asked for anything for himself. All of this determination and joy was for someone else.

This child, raised in poverty, a refugee, had more selflessness in his little body than most of society’s adults today. He was just a child, but he was so determined; powered by pure love for his sister.

Yes, the interaction taught me the obvious lessons of gratefulness and food. But, the young boy taught me so much more too.

He taught me what life is truly about. That whole day, I had been bathed in luxury and privilege. I woke up in my five star hotel, ate a breakfast I had expected to eat, and didn’t worry about where my next meal would come from as I headed out to explore the city. All around me was luxury, music, and the fast paced life of vacation.

I had gotten caught up in all of the things life wasn’t about. I was blinded by superficial things and experiences.

This, the boy and his selflessness and determination, was what life was really like.

It’s easy to walk past homeless people lying on benches and on the street. Yes, it makes us sad. But, for how long? How long before we go back to our own lives? We have the privilege of walking away.

But, that day, I was confronted with reality and my privilege was taken away. It is hard to see a 10 year old boy display acts of determination and selflessness you seldom see in yourself.

I had forgotten that life isn’t boat rides, hotels, and endless food. It’s also struggle, determination, and putting aside your struggles to help someone else.

That boy taught me that whether its baby formula or a career, you can never give up. And along the way, to think of others. Family, selflessness, and determination is everything.

And sometimes, it takes a refugee child with more wisdom than you to help you remember those core lessons.