A Bad Life

Here is a story I dread telling, because there's no redemption in it.

They bravely mustered smiles for the camera, but I don't know how.  This family of nine lives in a tiny shack about a quarter the size of my North Hall room, or maybe a bit smaller than that.  I don't think it is possible to understand how crowded and inhumane that is without seeing it.  It defies description.  With no windows and a door that opens in, the place is claustrophobic even with only a few people inside.

When we talked to the family, they hadn't eaten for two days.  I didn't get all the details because during the interview I was distracting kids so we could get clean audio.  Though it didn't seem likely they would get food soon, we couldn't even buy them lunch.  Then we'd have to give food to the entire slum.  That's just how it works.

I don't know how they smiled.  Luke, Hani and I were blinking back tears and Danielle was dripping them as she hid behind my camera- the camera worth several years' income for them- and took their photos.

I am blessed.  How will I use what I've been given?