after, my brother died too. I wastoo sad to cry right away.
T
he next morning,
and many mornings that
followed, the children rose
early to look for work
washing cars, carrying
water, cleaning clothes,
asking people for money or
food, and searching for
useful metal or scraps that
others had thrown away.
But then, one day a man in
uniform pushed Sélavi roughly.
“All of you street children
are dirty thieves,” he said.
Sélavi was frightened. He ran
back to the children’s home
beneath the banyan tree.
T
here were more angry faces there. One of
them said, “We have chased away your friends.
If we ever see you again, we will arrest you.”
Sélavi ran down a side street and into a
church. There he saw many families. Some of
them seemed kind, but others were frowning
because he had interrupted them.
A
man was speaking to the people. “Alone,” he said,
“we may be a single drop of water, but together we can be a
mighty river. We must help each other to become strong!”
Sélavi called out, “I need help.” Faces turned
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