Lost and Be found.

There was a story that hit my mind when I thought it had been wiped away for a long time.

During my primary school years, I remembered it clearly in Standard Four, I moved back to my family and waved goodbye to grandparents.

It was the beginning of the real taste of poverty.

I didn't get to always ask for things like I was used to. I mean, not for things that over budget. There was no 'plenty' in my world anymore. And often, I had to share my snack with another 3 persons. Sharing became part of my life ever since. But it was fun, we always held each other hand and skied at home by wearing two plastic bags on our feet.

But, poverty followed me to school at the same time.

Grandfather didn't support us. He disliked my father.

This was how it happened.

Government/school was giving away free meal for poor students. Our conditions were hard and mother wanted very much for me to get it.

It was the first time I went to my teacher and said I needed one of those cool and bitter noodles.

But people didn't believed that I was poor. I was used to come to school in brand new uniform, white and shinning shoes, new schoolbag and a grandmother that would appear during lunch break with a food package full of delicious food.

And now, I'm going to what? Eating free meals that I don't deserve at all?

There was another girl who applied at the same time and she was one of my playmates.

I remembered teacher asked both of us to stand up.

She rolled her eyes and asked, 'Why do you think that you are eligible?'

The whole class looked at us and waited for our answers.

The girl stayed in an old house. But her father was selling beers and they parked their Proton Waja just across the street. That is all I know.

But people took away my father's Proton Saga as he was not able to pay the installment and he had an old motorcycle which made us to call off our outing trip. I didn't know what he was doing, I only knew his previous job was installing water filterer for people, a water-filterer salesman, I supposed.

I was silent. But I forced myself to tell, 'My father is a salesman. And my house is a rental house.' And I was telling the truth. I didn't add on, my TV is too small for me to watch, my bed is too shallow to give me a good sleep and you could actually ease your back itchiness by scratching it on the wall of my house, it was coarse like the wall of cliff.

And shockingly, the girl gave the same answer, her father was a salesman and her house was a rental house.

Teacher looked at two of us.

And a classmate raised his hand, then pointed to me, 'Teacher, she is telling lies. She is rich. Her grandfather owned a Pajero. She doesn't deserve the free meal at all.' Every other classmates were nodding their heads. No one believes that I am poor. No one really sees when my father was frustrated for not being able to buy meals home.

All they saw was a dishonest girl.

Teacher looked at me with doubt.

I shouted in my heart that it was an accusation, a wrong one. If I was allowed to, if I was rich, I didn't want at all to bow my head and plead for the free meals. But now because I am poor, I have but to do that.

During that time, I considered it as the greatest humiliation I ever had. A date of infamy.

I kept quiet and I grabbed my fist, all I did were tears rolling down my cheeks, without my control.

Well, that girl cried at the same time seeing me doing that.

I wondered, how wicked human would be ever since it was just a little soul.

I didn't want free meal at all if I had choice. But people who are rich, they just don't always feel enough.

And the boy who accused me, looked at me with anger, as if he was doing the right things, he was a hero.

People see me quiet, silent all the times. You just have to understand things I have to bear or a poor people have to bear ever since they were just children.

This is why I hated poverty very much. When you're poor, you have to beg people, you have to nod for whatever people say and you have to see chances taken away.

But that doesn't make me another person. I have my right objectives for what I am doing. If money and fame were to be the factor that build up my determination, I rather give it away.

There is an uncle who financially support me and he wants me to promise him that one day when I succeed, I will help other poor people.

He never knew how much I wanted to help the poor because I can feel how they feel. While helping them, I will make sure they receive the help with respect, I will make sure I don't mistaken a child to be lying and dishonest.