The first boy we visited, Jarmain, was 16 years old and the skinniest person I have ever seen. He was huddled underneath the covers in his bed, peering at us with his yellowed and somber eyes. His condition was unknown. He looked like a famine victim. He was skin and bones. We prayed for him, but in my heart I wondered to what good this would do. We were told before coming, “Don’t cry when you’re in their presence. That discourages... > Full Story