very nice to us.â
âThis is a place of shame,â the driver said. âThe government would not want Americans to see this.â
âBut every country has garbage dumps,â Ray said.
âYes, but not like this,â Henok said. âYou have never seen anything like this.â
After the driver made the right-hand turn, they saw many people walking on either side of the road, different ages, all dressed in rags. Many were women and children wearing blank stares; most were barefoot. Some carried dirty white bags and sticks with hooked ends. Allan began to see rows of the most pathetic little shacks as the road widened up ahead. He had seen impoverished areas in Africa before, even in Addis Ababa. Those places were like middle-class subdivisions compared to what he saw now.
The strong odor that had been coming in the windows was now almost unbearable.
âHow long have these people been living here?â Ray asked.
âMany years,â Henok said. âSince before I was a child. And before we came, the lepers were here. Long ago, a king banished all the lepers to this place. Mainly to die, away from everyone else. They still come here to die. But then this became the place where all the trash was brought from the city. Trash means food for the hungry. So, the orphans and widows began to come in search of food.â
âThis is what they eat every day?â Allan asked.
âIt is all they have to eat,â Henok said. âWithout it, they would starve. Youâll see as we get closer. The garbage and dump trucks bring the fresh trash, and the people swarm all over it, picking through the piles to find bits of food and little things they could sell in the market. That is why they carry these bags and sticks.â He was pointing to a cluster of young boys walking by. âThey will sort through the garbage for hours, putting anything they find in those bags. When they are full, they will carry them back to their homesâtheselittle shacks you seeâto feed their families.â Tears filled his eyes. âThat was me just a few years ago. I was like that boy there.â He pointed to one young man hurrying to catch up with the rest.
âYou were responsible to feed your whole family?â Allan asked.
Henok nodded. âMe and my two brothers. There were seven of us living in one room. Itâs not far from here.â
Allan hadnât seen any strong, older men. âHenok, where are the fathers?â
âThere are no fathers,â he said. âThat is why the widows and children and the elderly come here. This is their only hope.â
They drove a few moments in silence. Out the side window, Allan saw a little boy maybe six years old sitting against a broken sign. Next to him, a dirty white bag, half full. He pulled something out of it, smiled at the sight, and held it up. It looked like a crunched-up yogurt container. He straightened it and, with his left index finger, began scooping out little bits left inside. His eyes closed as he swallowed the few remaining bites, then he licked his lips. When he opened them, he looked right at Allan and smiled even wider. Youâd have thought heâd just eaten a chocolate sundae.
A little farther down, the road narrowed again. They drove past another row of shacks made of mud and sticks with rusty metal corrugated roofs. A woman squatted outside one, arranging bundles of rotten bananas in neat rows. A few still had small sections of yellow, but they were mostly bruised and blackened. Allan couldnât imagine eating even one.
âPull over here,â Henok said. âWe must walk from this point.â
âI will stay here with the car,â the driver said.
As soon as they left the car, they were surrounded by children. All of them smiling, as if they hadnât a care in the world.
âYou are like celebrities,â Henok said. âThey almost never see a white man.â
Instantly,