I am in pain unsure if I should even share it. Perhaps I’m worn from my travels, missing home, but I know it’s not the reason. At times, it’s easier not to see the ugliness, the valid contradictions, and contrast in this world. We are with our students on a weekend field trip to the cities. After a day of smiles, laughter & swimming near the falls, a stroll through the night market is a gut check that the world has suffering. I’ve faced it before but this time, this time, I feel pain, physical pain. An infant, wrapped in torn rags lay in the sideway. A feet away, a toddler – perhaps its sibling – watches. People walk by, barely noticing. A woman nearly stumbles on the infant and screams as she grabs her child and dashes away. It’s a scene from Slum Dog Millionaire, but it’s not a movie. It’s right in front of me. I’m paralyzed watching, and then I feel a jolt as someone bumps me to move along. I become complicit and wander away not wanting to look back. I get to leave. I get to go home. I am priviledged

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