A day of Christmas Generosity

I'm in a poor school. Rodolfo Rodriguez invited me to join an event in which we deal out presents to the children here. It is part of some kind of project. The idea is that because they don't have a lot of stuff, we give it to them.
It reminds me of a friend I had long ago. He wasn't really a friend though, but he had a lot of toys. Simeon he was called. Very rich parents, his youth had overwhelmed him with presents. I was at his place once or twice, but playing with his toys was no fun, coz he didn't play along. He said he was bored of all of them. His imagination had tragically deceased.
I'm standing in the middle of the schools square, holding up a piñata. A piñata is a decorated box filled with sweets. Children are dancing around me, because they know I am about to open it, meaning that they have to make ready to collect as much sweets as they can from the ground.
It is a primary school. Our arrival had caused a lot of curiosity, and I've allready made myself a lot of little friends, who are now intermediate english speakers. All are dressed up well. After that we installed the sound system (I felt like being on Droevendaal), the children gathered around the square, classified by year. They spoke the Padre nostre, sang the Hymn of Peru, and thanked God for our gathering. The show began with the comming of Pinky and The Brain (if you don't know them, sorry but your life is hopeless), accompanied by Cumbia, the popular Peruvian music. It was actually a pretty cool start, but the children seemed pretty bored, sitting there and all. I reckoned they prefered to run around an jump on each other, but allowing them to do that would make them wreckless adults.
The program is divided such that every class gets his turn to play a game, while the other classes watch. The piñata of the youngsters is the start. So here I stand, being tall and all.
And as I said, I am about to open the piñata, together with my mate. Just after that, we'll have to try to get out of the group of children that is about to reach for the area of our feet. I feel forced to warm up the creative part of my brain, for I know it will require some inventivity to escape. But hey, they are only 5 years old or so, and there are only about 30 of them.
The music stops, here it comes. We rip the piñata. The sweets and the confetti fall on the floor. A wave of kids upon my feet. I have just found my equilibrium again, when I notice there must be a misunderstanding. The kids from the first and second classes are out of contol. They too have come to grab the sweets and steel them from the little ones. Don't they know they will get their turn?
A strong push against my hip draws my attention to the ground.
From a distance, people see my tall body lose his vertical position slowly. The angle between me and the ground becomes smaller and smaller. What can I do? I've past the point where trying to keep standing is an option. I can't move my feet without crushing a child's skull, and I can't dive out of the group, but I certainly don't want to fall upon them. That would spoil the party. I see a gap between the kids. My only hope. That's the direction in which I should fall. The plan turns out to be succesfull. When my hand touches the ground, I hear an amplified voice say: 'please, teachers, get your kids out of the group. They will get their turn, this game is for the youngest kids only!'
I manage to move my tall body to the place where my mind had allready been for a few minutes: outside of the group. There and find myself amazed by the attraction sweets can have on kids.
I decide to go the the observer mode, and witness further events from a safe distance.
The games take a long time, but I manage to stay awake. I notice that the square gets fuller and fuller with women that were not there before. All are carrying kids. I'm sensing problems ahead.
Some come to sit close to me. And they start looking back. More and more. As if they want something from me. A girl asks: 'what's your name?'
'Gilles, what's yours?'
'Katty'
I know that name.
'Can you give me a toy?' She asks.
It starts.
Not even half an hour later, I am surrounded by mothers pointing at their kids. They want me to give them a toy, but I can't decide on that, and I'm guessing that there aren't enough for all of them.
When the show is over, and the kids go to their classes to receive more stuff, the pressure upon me has grown, so I decide to take a big bag of toys, and transport it to a classroom, glancing at the women with an 'I'm not going to give you anything' look, and with pain in my heart. Not because I can't give them anything, but because I see their blind desire for toys. It is amazing how the humand mind can be distracted by matter. That is so easy to see now.
Off all people, I am asked to guard the remaining toys, in the room where they are stored. I leave the door open, and sit inside where they can't see me. Only Katty dares to enter. After that I told her I won't give her anything, we have a chat. I tell her that I'm from Holland, and that my country is spoiled by toys. She even seems to understand it. I give her some water, because she must be at least as thirsty as I am. She slams it all away at once.
After a while, the teachers come into the room I'm guarding, and the door gets shut. It is only then, that the women who were standing patiently in a line before, start pushing and fighting over what seems to me as an illusion of happyness for their child.
At last, some presents are given through the door, and most of the mothers get satisfied for as long as it takes. The pressure at the gate has releived a bit when we get out of the room, after a formal reciprokal thanks from both groups towards each other. We clean up, and get out.
The women that remain allmost beg me for a toy. I say something I have realised in there. 'All I can give you is my experience, which is that toys don't make you happy'.
The crowd looks angry. One woman smiles. Yes. I got through. Time to go back.