South B

   It was midmorning as I walked into the South B. slum. Burning plastic and raw sewage filled my nostrils making my stomach churn. Stepping over crippled dogs and piles of garbage, I made my way to the church all the while clutching my dad’s hand tightly. Brown eyes and foreign whispers followed us. As we ducked into the church, I realized it wasn’t a church by American standards at all. All it was, was a dirt floor, a window and two rickety poles holding up the roof.
    I went straight to the back of the building to be with the kids. For nearly four hours I got swarmed by malnourished children who were all trying to get a look into my blue eyes. Five pairs of sticky, dirty hands ran through my soft hair, pulling and braiding. Fingers touched every square inch of my face and I am convinced that that is the source of the cold I have been fighting ever since.
     A shy girl sat in the corner with a cookie, breaking off the tiniest bits and giving them to the other children. A boy sat next to me the entire time, occasionally licking a rock. I always had at least one body on my lap ranging from a month old to a solid 8 years of age. One little girl looked at me with more admiration in her eyes than anyone I have ever seen. Another girl, while sitting on my lap, went to the bathroom all over.
     These are such vivid memories that I will cherish. Why were these children so happy? They didn’t own a pair of shoes and yet, they had more joy and excitement than some of the richest families I know. I got to thinking about how different our lives are. These kids have never touched grass, have never had a candlelight dinner. They have never enjoyed the pleasure of a hot bath. And most if not all of them will stay in the slums for the rest of their precious lives.
      This puts into perspective all my problems and makes them seem petty and insignificant. I have in my life. I have been given so much, too much in fact, to keep it all. Right then and there I knew that being with children like this is what I am meant to do. Living in the same conditions sounds hard and seemingly impossible but my heart has never swelled up so much and I have never been so content as when I had those treasures sitting on my lap. There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about each one of those kids and I can’t wait until I’m reunited with them.

The river that is used to bathe, wash clothes, pee in, and drink...

entrance to the slum