Better Food

The past month, the diet in here has improved.  We’re not getting steak and shrimp, but starting with the feast ending Ramadan, our meals have gotten better.  The Ramadan feast included real chicken on the bone.  In all three years I’ve been locked up, that was only the second time I’ve actually been able to gnaw on a chicken leg and feel the meat grease on my fingers.

We’ve had fresh, tossed salad with oil and vinaigrette dressing.  Huge slabs of sausage pizza were served the other day.  McDonald's McRib style pork patties on sub rolls with barbeque sauce made it on the lunch tray last week.  Asparagus!  White peaches! Strawberries!

And still, guys complain.  “His pizza’s bigger”; “My peach has a bruise”.  Here’s something I learned about food.   I can eat anything.  Good or bad, I eat it.  Every meal I say a short grace.  It reminds me of the Guatemalan kid I was in jail with.  He prayed over every meal because he knew a lot of people have so much less.

The food is better, but it’s still just food.