Hungry

Jenni and I walk for about 20 minutes down Pucallpa's answer to the Dual Highway to find something for supper.

We arrive at a roadside stand that sells chifa, the Peruvian version of Chinese food. It is hot out, even in the dark night, and I am happy to sit down. Our plates come quickly-saucy mountains of noodles and vegetables.

"I'm never going to be able to eat all this," I laugh.

"Yeah," says Jenni, "We could have easily shared one plate."

We're working on halfway when a small boy wanders through the tent, holding a plastic bag with a little rice on the bottem. A beggar.

"Are you hungry?" Jenni asks him.

He comes over and sits right down at our table, and I push my plate in his direction. He eats slowly. He tells us that his name is Santiago, and that he is 12 years old, even though I would have guessed 8 or 9.

A few minutes later a younger brother shows up, a tiny boy with big brown eyes whose name is Charlie. Jenni pulls up a chair for Charlie and we talk to them as they take turns with the fork. Santiago takes a bite, then gives the fork to Charlie while he chews. Charlie likes to slurp up the noodles, and he also likes to suck the brown gravy off the cabbage, then spit the cabbage in the dirt.

I guess he doesn't like cabbage. I laugh about this.

They finish, tell us thank you very politely, and wander off into the night.