After the war
On the way to the village we stopped at a ward of wounded patients. The cost of the conflict is written on the people who survived it — and on the children left behind.
Children playing on open ground in the off-grid village.
Photo placeholderOn the road to the village we stopped at a ward for seriously wounded patients. I met my friend's best friend, who had lost both his eyes and several fingers. There were others without limbs. My friend himself was retired after a gunshot to the belly — lucky, in his words, to still be able to work.
When a parent doesn't survive the battlefield, a child is left behind. When neither parent survives, that child carries the hardest weight of all. It's difficult to imagine.
Why the community holds
And yet the village endures, held together by tribal solidarity. Each person walks their own path, but they are connected and supported by one another. For someone from a modern, individualist city, it is a striking thing to witness.
This is the community PRASM stands with — not a place of helplessness, but a place of resilience that simply deserves a few things the rest of us take for granted.