I am at the end of the second day of my 30 day fast. It is so amazing how much I feel like I am learning not only about what the food is like for the men and women in the camps, but about how much taste matters. I sort of forgot how bland the food would be. Of course, it has to be. When the World Food Program has no choice but to feed millions in the most cost and labor effective way possible, there is no way it can have flavor. You get the calories into people and you don’t pay any attention to what it tastes like, of course. Taste is a luxury, right? But the drabness, and the repetitiveness must be so incredibly demoralizing to people, especially where the traditional foods are so incredibly spicy and vivid. What a drain it must be on people and a drain in a way that they must almost feel not entitled to feeling drained—because the food is free, so how can they feel ok to compain? So at least right now the difficult thing isn’t hunger so much (talk to me in a week, I think I’ll be singing a different tune!) but the idea of the long 28 days ahead (nothing to a refugee, right??) of nothing but the wheat and the peas and the very, very little bit of salt and sugar!