Collaborating on an empty stomach

Day one at the first U.S. Social Forum began when I left the hotel at 7:30 am to help set up the Yes! table at the Civic Center. After running back to print out fliers and grab some lunch, it was off to the opening march, which started at the State Capitol. Even in the thick heat of midday in downtown Atlanta, the streets clamored and jostled with energy as bands, students, and organizers from all across the nation (and some from abroad) formed a steady and enthusiastic human river winding around corners and blocking intersections until they reached their final destination at the Civic Center.

The theme of the day was unity, gathering a multi-generational, multi-ethnic, and multi-lingual crowd, which in turn represented a diverse array of causes. From water to women, immigrants to local economies, fair trade to anti-war, all sorts of people defended all sorts of rights on Atlanta’s streets today. Thousands of people had come together not for one cause, but in recognition that all of these causes are interconnected and worth working for.

It was in line at a falafel stand outside of the Civic Center that I discovered the true meaning of the collaboration implicit in this coming together. Over the grumbling noises of my empty stomach, I met two Guatemalan women who didn’t speak a word of English, but had come here because they wanted to change something. I never found out what it was they were hoping to change, but I learned a little too late that they would change my plans for a falafel dinner. As I offered to translate between them and the girl selling falafels, I unwittingly assisted them in ordering the last two sandwiches, relinquishing my own dinner. This fact was blissfully lost in translation for the two Guatemaltecas, but for this hungry native English speaker, it sank in pretty quickly.

Now, writing in my hotel room with a full stomach, it’s tempting to tell the story as a metaphor for two countries in search of a desirable, oil-laden product from the Middle East, or of an exciting role reversal between first and third-world countries. But in the moment we were just three hungry women, and despite our different backgrounds and perspectives, all shared similarly salivating taste buds as the smells of frying chickpeas wafted by.

Don't be mistaken: I'm not the romantic idealist you might think. I only think back on the interaction fondly because when I found myself with a disappointingly empty plate, a fourth woman came to my rescue, and the hummus was almost as good as a warm falafel translated into Spanish.