For thousands of Haitian children, the new norm of life is being played out in crowded tent cities or even worse – the streets – with no focused activity and no hope of schools opening any time soon.
Right now, lawmakers, businesses and families are attempting to reconcile the current economic turbulence with their budgets, contemplating economic forecasts with current needs.
Angela was washing dishes when the child arrived at her door, gasping for breath. "It's Juan," the little girl panted. "He got hurt."
Esau worked his way into the center of the crowded market near his home in Daraja Mbili. Skillfully, the 11-year-old slipped his hand into pockets and baskets, snatching bits of food and money. Esau used to feel a twinge of guilt when he stole from his neighbors, but poverty's desperation choked out any remorse. Still, Esau's life wasn't always this desolate.
It is the middle of the night. The only sound is the metallic rattle of the tin roof as it shudders in the night breeze. But soon another sound begins. It starts as a gentle wheeze emanating from a small boy lying on a mat.
Latifa loved to watch her mother, Zainabu, dance. She would twirl and dip, her costume filling their small home with color and movement. Sometimes her mother would let Latifa hold the headpiece she wore each night when she danced at a local hotel for the tourists.
Although it may be difficult to find the community of Kampung Sawah on a map, it's not so hard if you follow your nose. A small slum tucked into the northern corner of Jakarta, Indonesia, Kampung Sawah is known for one thing: garbage.