Along the streets the many lame and maimed clothed in rags, mostly men, sat in the shadows of the awnings near shop doors. Small boys clothed in tattered, dusty rags worked in tandem with their charges collecting donations. One young man without legs transported himself along the street by swinging his torso between his arms. His hands worked like feet gripping a pair of plastic sandals. Another immobile man sat under the shade of a shop awning. His torso was partially obscured by his bloated leg – puffed up like a dark thick-skinned balloon. These were fleeting images as Sarah’s legs carried her swiftly down the boulevard. She felt numb; it was almost too much suffering to accept at once.