The Volunteer

Last year, my school told us that every student had to do twenty hours of volunteer work. I wasn't pleased. I used to think that volunteering was for people with lots of free time, and I already had exams, basketball practice and a weekend job. In the end, I chose the community kitchen near the bus station, mainly because it was close to my house.

The kitchen serves a free hot lunch every Saturday to anyone who needs one. On my first day, the manager, Ms. Abara, gave me an apron and pointed at a mountain of dirty dishes. "Everyone starts here, Felix," she said. For three hours, I washed bowls and cups, spoke to almost nobody and counted the minutes until I could go home.

To be honest, I also had a picture in my head of the people who ate there. I imagined that they were very different from me and my family. Then, on my third Saturday, a girl about my age sat down near the kitchen door. I thought she was a new volunteer, so I offered her an apron. She laughed and said, "No, thanks. I'm here for the soup."

Her name was Thandi, and she was studying to become a nurse. She worked in a supermarket at night, but her pay wasn't always enough for both food and rent. I felt embarrassed, but she just smiled and asked me for more bread.

After that, I started to notice the people around me. Mr. Petrov, who used to drive a city bus, knew every street in town. A young father always stayed to help clean the tables before he left. A woman with silver hair taught me a card game while she was waiting for her lunch.

A few weeks later, Ms. Abara asked me to serve the soup. I was nervous at first, but I soon realized that the food was only half of the job. People also wanted someone to remember their names and ask about their week.

Although I finished my twenty hours in March, I haven't stopped going. I've learned how to cook rice for eighty people, and I know almost everyone's name. Thandi has finished her nursing course, and now she helps in the kitchen once a month. Last month, even my little sister came with me.

My school gave me a certificate for those twenty hours. It's somewhere in a drawer, and I've never looked at it again. I used to think that volunteering meant giving away my free time. Now it's the best part of my week.