A Box of Warmth!

Lunch at Chic-Chicken and the quiet dignity of sharing

I took my lunch at Chic-Chicken today. Not for indulgence, but for reason. It was cheaper than a falafel sandwich... It costs 14 francs with fried potatoes, ketchup, mayonnaise, hot chilli, and a Coca-Cola. The falafel, priced at 12 or 13 francs, might still leave one hungry. But the chicken dish, with two large pieces and one smaller, could stretch across two meals.

I filmed a short video recommending Chic-Chicken... not just for the price, but for the portion, the warmth, the practicality. Yet I couldn’t finish it. Two pieces of chicken remained, untouched, resting beside the potatoes and chili.

I looked at them and thought of someone else... someone on the street, someone hungry. So I asked the girl at the counter to bag it for me. She looked at me, paused, then offered a box. I packed it myself.

It was a quiet gesture. No applause. No announcement. Just a box of warmth, carried from one hand to another, from one heart to another. What does food security mean?