street trash.

 

 

When
I first met Daniel I was expecting him to be dead. He was lying,
passed out on the dirty cement in front of a small vegetable shop.
But when we gently tapped his shoulder, he slowly staggered to his
feet. All 70 pounds.

Daniel
was absolutely vile. He only had one pair of clothes and it showed.
His blue shirt was torn and died black with filth. His green pants
were extremely short, eight sizes too large, and held up by a rough
looking black rope. Even his yellow flip flops were well worn and
too small for his bloated feet.

Daniel
honestly looked like the walking dead. His body had been ravaged
heavily by HIV, tuberculosis and a hard life on the streets. His
arms and legs resembled 2-inch dowel rods, his cheeks sunk deep into
his face, and his eyes were tired and skeptical. He was nothing but
taught skin and brittle bones.

Although
Daniel is only fourteen years old, he carries the life
experiences of a 90-year old war vet. His nights are consumed by
horror and dread from the numerous rapes he endures at the hands of
older street boys. His days are covered in loneliness as he seeks to
find a family that does not exist. And, he fills his nostrils with
the only form of release he can find-the fumes of Elmer’s glue.

This
month we’re working with organizations that love, serve and reach out
to street children. Over half the boys who choose to come off the
streets leave the home their placed in and go back. They have known
the streets their whole life and struggle with the detox and
structure. Our beautiful little Daniel desperately needs this
intervention. This is a literal life or death situation and he
doesn’t have much time left. Our organization has been working with
Daniel for three years and yesterday was the first time he agreed to
hope–the first time he moved off the streets. And in his wisdom he
told us, “At some point I am going to want to go back to the
streets, but I don’t want to go back. So, when that happens, please
lock the doors and tie me down. I want a new life.”