Orphan Sunday

The blank, nearly emotionless and lost look in the eyes of the children? Young eyes that have cried too much; and now the tears are gone because they were pointless tears that brought no resolution to their cause. Young eyes that cannot read. Eyes that have never even seen a book. Minds stunted from a lack of stimulus and a lack of education. None of them have ever set foot inside a school. They are just too dirty and infested with bugs and are not allowed.

Tattered clothing that bears ironic symbols of an affluent country far away. Tattered clothing covered in filth from sleeping on a dirt floor night after night. Toes without any toenails. Deformed and full of infection. The fingers are not as bad; but almost. Can you see it?

This is why.

A tiny square room of dried mud is their home. A place made for animals. Just four walls and a few dozen square feet of dirt, filled with bugs & bacteria.

There are no beds. Just rags to lay their heads on. The rusted and tattered metal roof leaks when it rains and the wind blows through the empty space where a door should be. A pair of muck boots sitting on the floor and a couple of items sitting on a shelf formed into the mud wall constitute the sum total of their wealth.

There is no wash tub. No dishes. No utensils. No bathroom. Everything you see is everything there is.

This is why.

This is why.

This picture is why. And all the pictures like it.

It’s the definition of poverty. The definition of hopelessness.

Can you see it in their eyes? The far-off stare of the mother? A mother who was abandoned by her husband and left to fend for three children without any means to do so. A mother who begs for scraps every day just to keep her family alive.