#1: Crossroads.

For our first MAD project, our school decided to take the entire ninth grade to Crossroads for a third world simulation.

In this simulation, we traveled into a secluded room where equipment was already set up. David, our director, talked to us about what we'd be doing. He gave us a brief synopsis of what we were to do, and why we were doing it.

At first, the way he'd given the speech was kind of pretentious to behold, with a lot of pictures and statistics. It sounded mythical, and I didn't understand most of it. I couldn't relate, and it was hard to stimulate it. Not that I wanted to, to be honest.

It was a tactile education thing, I thought to myself. I was a rote learned visual learner, and I felt like this was just a field trip-esque thing.

The siren sounded, and we set into groups and started assigning each other to the roles provided. We were to fold and cut paper into makeshift paper bags with newspapers and dough. We had to "sell" them to the authorities to scrape by a measly "pay" in order to sustain ourselves.

The prices were inflated to unholy degrees, and the volunteers were relentless. It was an entirely different facet of themselves. They showed us the less beautiful parts of themselves. One that has went through toil and abuse, a harrowing past that cannot be revoked.

As we kept our hands busy, my heart was churning up at how they could actually relate to this. How much this meant to them and how much this could mean to other people. How hard people have worked, how much they do just for the idea of something "more than this".

It was so tangible, and they are clean cut problems. The inhumanity meant a rigged system. Pragmatically, it didn't matter whether they wanted to change their situation or not. They lived hand to mouth. Idealistically, they should be granted opportunities, human rights should be enforced, etc.

However, it didn't matter if they were geniuses or depressed, these statistics are irrelevant to them.

They lived for the sake of family. For the sake of living itself.

It makes me wonder.

As a kid who has been depressed (among other conditions) since the fourth grade, who's been in and out of clinics, wards, and the sort, it angers me.

It brings: "It's just not fair, but that's the world for you" to a whole new level.

Depression in itself and the suicidal ordeal becomes taboo. It's suddenly mandatory for people to bind themselves to life.

As I routinely tore, fold, and seal each bag, my hands slowly caking up with dried dough, I grew increasingly perturbed.

It's times and situations like these that makes you realise how precious life really can be, for someone who has it so much worse to insist on clinging to it.

When the siren sounded again, we dropped our work. We were told by David that although we could opt out of this, others cannot, and are enslaved to this. This made me understand that we really are not entitled to anything.

My friends and acquaintances and I wiped the sweat off our brows, peeling the dough off of our hands. We listened to David silently, all of us lost in thought.

I guess I didn't talk much after the trip for the rest of the day.

I didn't have much to say. I was too ashamed to be "depressed". The very idea of it being "medical" seemed like I was being self conceited. There was just so much anger and shame about the issue, I had no definite reaction.

I've always known my family has got it better than what most people have, and it's only fair that I should say that I acknowledge and fully understand it. But I don't.

Being born rich, I've lived in a coveted bubble of a first world, and I've ignored or brushed off other ideas or options. In a sense, I don't know what this is capable of. Humanity was for granted, and rightfully so.

I never went down to my bare necessities, since I never had to. I understand that there are the "less fortunate", but it was simply irrelevant to me.

So it jarred me to understand a situation where privation, famine, and hopelessness dominated.

Similarily, everything applicable to me was suddenly irrelevant to them. The "lesser fortunate" did not have Christ, the stability of a home, an education, a future.

I was told that if you worked hard enough, it will not go unrewarded. I was told that God had a plan for everyone, and this is infuriated me to see it.

This service had actually become a lot more personal than I was comfortable with going, and it really left a cloud in my head afterward. It made me reflect-- something that I generally roadblock and dismiss.

It was a very real thing. It made me feel conscious. And it made me want to return and come to a conclusion.

The epilogue of this post comes in the form of a camp.

In WWW, or "Week Without Walls", a trip organised by our school about going to places in and out of Hong Kong for a week to experience whatever it was we wanted to experience, I chose Crossroads once again.

It was a service trip, and I decided to take that opportunity to let the thoughts marinate and conclusions settle.

In that week, I went through simulations for AIDS, refugees, and for blindness.

I got past the shame I held for myself. I grew an admiration and respect for Crossroads. I knew that even though I feel like I cannot be the redeemer for these people, Jesus can be, through the hearts that are touched of the people who can.

I understood that the perception of pain and "realness" is extremely subjective. That if the "less fortunate" have reason to live, then I of all people should learn to love life. And so should everyone else.

Life is precious. Family is priceless. And love conquers all.