My broken heart...

There are times that you know what has to be done, but just can't figure out the how that doesn't land you in jail. This was one of those moments.

I spend nearly 20 months working in Africa. In those 20 months, not one child pulled at my heart like this one. The women, said to be her grandmother, the mother died, took her granddaughter to the medical clinic for the first time in her life. The doctor was Ugandan and very skilled, the child was sick and the treatment was an easy one.

Ok now for the heart strings. I did spend my time looking for that "Sally's Struthers kid" the one they pimp out on television for money, well here she was right in front of me. her legs were smaller than the average 2 year-old wrist, (and that was the upper leg), she was 4 years-old. She was extremely dehydrated and her teeth looked like they were rubbery for lack of any better word.

According to her grandmother, the child, whose name I could not pronounce let alone write down, and the grandmother is illiterate, had been sickly for the past few months and she is grateful that the Americans and Ugandans came to the clinic so her granddaughter could get well and tend to the sheep and goats.

I made a few calls to see what it would take ... well the answer was a short one, short of kidnapping, my hands were tied, and if I did kidnap her, well I would probably be shot. And since we would have none of that, I went back to my job as a photojournalist. And although I left the country and the continent, she has never left my heart.