“Ate (big sister), our friend has died.” The little girls welcomed me with this bad news. They are sitting at a street corner where we regularly visit street kids. The girls are squatting on a piece of carton. “What happened?” I asked them being shocked myself. A group of street kids went for a swim in a river the day before. One boy, who was fairly new in this gang of children, boldly jumped from a higher cliff. However, he didn’t surface after diving into the water. His friends looked for him desperately, but could only secure his dead body. I am sitting there on this piece of carton with these little girls – shocked and speechless. The kids are huddling up against me, trying to be close after this traumatic event. Jenalyn (11 years old and already hooked on sniffing glue) says: “Maybe I can come and live with you one day?” That’s what the Father’s House is for: to take care of kids like her who have nobody caring for them. I say: ”Yes!” hoping that she won’t change her mind.
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