At that moment, everything I had previously thought was important just dissolved like ash in the wind. I can’t even remember what was important to me back then.
My children. I call them my children because they deserve to be claimed by someone. The ones who die deserve to be remembered by someone. And they do die at alarming rates. Three million in DR Congo since 1996. But I can almost feel the readers glazing over right now so I will not dwell on the numbers. I’ll just say there are as many orphans in DR Congo as there are citizens of Scotland. I’ll never forget the time I was handed an infant who’d been found in a ditch. Human life has to be worth more than that. And I will spend the rest of my life proving it.