It was his to begin with; it was never mine...

Every Wednesday I drive to LA for class. They serve dinner usually at 8:30 p.m. during the break. Sometimes I get a bit hungry right before class, so yesterday I made myself a sandwich for the way there. You know, like mothers do for their kids, just in case I feel a glimpse of hunger come, I can have a bite. God knows we can't concentrate fully on Rumi and Erfaan on an empty stomach.

I made it with hummus that I had bought from the farmers market,the authentic kind right from the Jordanian guy who attends every farmers market all over Orange County and who is very pushy by the way. I used some fresh red bell pepper, and the pickles that I had made myself from scratch. Yes, it looked tasty.

I packed it actually very neatly too as if it was for sale or something. I wrapped it in paper towel first, then put it in a Ziploc bad and there I went on my one and a half hour drive to LA. Well, guess what? that tiny glimpse of hunger never hit me and the sandwich remained in the car.

I had a full mighty dinner in class, this time the volunteers had brought meat lasagna with salad and my favorite ginger dressing. When the class was over I realized the sandwich is still sitting in my car. I panicked for a couple of reasons. I was not going to eat it for lunch the next day because I was meeting someone for business purposes for sushi. Dinner...I already had left overs from my uncle's house, home-cooked Persian food and so if the sandwich sat in my fridge for over 24 hours--well, I wasn't going to eat it. That simple.

And hence the panic. Then a sudden realization came upon me. I was in Santa Monica, in the midst of one of LA's homeless populations. In fact, many years ago I had to go there to make a documentary about homelessness for one of my undergraduate sociology classes...you know, back when I actually thought about the possibility of social change. Back when I was an idealist.

I started driving. I took Broadway down to Main looking for him--my hungry homeless man (or woman). They usually sat on the benches or at that time of the night, slept on the ground. I had to make a couple of rights and lefts before I saw him, right on the bench on Second Street near Coffee Bean. I was nervous because I wasn't sure if he would welcome the sandwich offer or would he even like hummus? I mean, it is very New Age...you know and vegetarian. He could probably use a BigMac or or a nice chunky chicken sandwich from Carl's but hey, fast food is bad anyway.

Slowly I parked the car near the curb and put my flashers on. I really didn't want to exit the car, not for the fear of it but I didn't want to make a scene. It was my intention to give my sandwich away very discretely. I rolled down my automatic passenger side window and said rather shyly to this strange man whose face was covered with a scarf. "Excuse me sir, would you like a sandwich?" He looked at me, first a bit shocked, then smiled and said sure. I gave it to him and his smile widened even more as he actually touched it. He then thanked me, his eyes full of gratitude.

Then I knew. I knew exactly why I had gone through all the trouble to make such a nicely wrapped sandwich that afternoon; I had made it for him anyway, not me. It was all his to begin with, it was never mine. I was just an instrument.

I hope he liked it though. Not everyone has a taste for hummus.