"I looked into those small eyes, transfixed on the wall beyond my face, just staring. I read in them the helplessness and hopelessness." As I walked into the poor and needy village, I looked into the eyes of the farmer.
Although I could not speak his dialect, I longed for him to know that there are those who care for him, his people and his plight. I read in his eyes the burden of living and the same hopelessness. It was as if he was reaching out to me saying, "Can you help us?"
Later I heard that for some, the situation is so needy that in the wintertime their wives travel to the nearest town and sell themselves into prostitution. Even as I write this, my heart breaks for them. This should not be so! One is a child inside an orphanage and the other an adult in a needy village. Yet what they do share is the same look of helplessness and hopelessness. One as a result of abandonment, the other from the burden of living every day in the poverty cycle