I don’t even know where to begin describing the way the kids hang all over you. Asking you questions, playing with your hair or your phone or your watch, wanting to be held, three at once wanting to be held—instantly any fears of getting sick from these kids becomes so laughable that it’s all you can do to just not snuggle them to death.

We were warned ahead of time that the little girls from the slum would be hard for the men to connect with at first. They’d be stand-off-ish and afraid to allow themselves to be physical with the men the way all the little boys were. Early in the day I was playing with a handful of boys and I saw a little girl standing beside us. She looked so unbelievably sad. You could see the most desperate look in her eyes, “Love me,” “Hold me,” “Show me I matter.” It broke my heart so I pulled away from the boys for a second and asked her name. “Lynn.” I asked her if I could hold her. She said, “No. You can’t,” and walked away. In that moment I noticed her dress was torn and incredibly dirty. What’s worse is that it looked like her toes were badly disfigured or broken. They were bloody and terribly scabbed. Instantly all the old anxieties about sickness and disease came back to me. I almost felt relieved that I didn’t have to hold her.

Several hours later, we were in between activities and I was playing with the boys again. I felt a tap on my shoulder. It was Lynn. She immediately said, "You can hold me now if you want to." To be honest, I’m not sure there was a second of hesitation. And she was my shadow (or one of  ’em anyway) the rest of the week.