Fagina

When I first started visiting the dump in Carpina, I met this little girl in the red dress. She was wearing only a pair of shorts, and was so dirty I couldn't tell if she was a girl or a boy. I asked what her name was, but she only shook her curls, refusing to say.
After a couple of weeks, she still wouldn't tell me, so I asked the others. Most of them looked to the ground. Finally one blurted, "Fagina. Her name is Fagina." Who names their daughter Fagina? Pronounced as it sounds: "FAG-in-uh." I stammered and looked away. The volunteer next to me didn't pause, "Princess." She said, "We will call her Princess."
And we do. Princess has been coming faithful to Living Stones (working with Massa Human) for a year now, and has a big smile every time I greet her with "Good Morning, Princess! How are you today?" Behind her, in the picture, is her mother, who has begun to come to get the soup that is passed out, and be more involved. Please pray for them.