Recently I was reminded of a situation I witnessed on a hot summer day in 2003. I was traveling with a group of 17 and we were on our way to visit a Mother Theresa home called House of Peace just miles outside Kinshasa, Congo DRC.
The House of Peace is an interesting name, considering it serves as both orphanage and hospice. Upon walking through the large iron gates, fully lined on the top with barbed wire and broken glass bottles, I noticed a black top play ground to the left, near a small building. On my right, were a handful of park benches, shaded by a large tree planted at the entrance of another building: this one larger than the one adjacent to it.
There was no one near the larger building to my right at first glance, yet, within seconds of entering through the gates, we heard laughter and the giggles of small children headed towards us coming from the smaller building.