The world of Tzu Chi (Vol.107)

43 TZU CHI 107 A helping hand By Chan Zhi Hong M ist materialized from my mouth as I breathed the cold air of Turkey. I bowed with my hands in front of me, carrying an envelope. “Shukran,” (which means “thank you” in Syrian) I said, to the man in front of me, looking straight into his eyes. The man picked me up and kissed me on the forehead, accepting the envelope and saying, “Thank you, thank you. Thank you very much.” And in the envelope was money – money to help them live good lives; money to help them buy food and pay the rental for their house. The man was a Syrian refugee. I gave him a firm handshake. I was there to give love to them. An infinite amount of love. This was Turkey – 97% Asian, 3% European, and about 2°C. Yes, it was cold. My family and I had come here to help the Syrian refugees so that they can live better lives. A day earlier, we handed out backpacks to the children in the El Menahil International School. All of them were refugees from Syria, but if you looked at the enormous smiles on their faces, you would never know that they were refugees. All the kids in the school had talent. Real talent. They performed and sang some amazing and wondrous songs to welcome us to Turkey. If any of them becomes a world-renowned singer one day, I would not be surprised. Other than that, when we were giving out financial aid to the refugees (the adults), a kid came to me to say thank you. At first, I did not know what he was trying to tell me, but when I found out, I was very touched. He had come to say thank you to me just because of a backpack.