The story of Jane.

I am Jane’s mother.

I was a prostitute.

I died of AIDS.

My husband died of AIDS last year.

I just died three days ago.

Our daughter Jane is 8 years old.

Nowhere to go.

My family will not take care of Jane.

Nobody will touch a child whose parents had AIDS.

Not even relatives.

A family friend intervened before she ended up on the streets.

Took her to the orphanage.

She was warmly received by the staff and the other children.

I am watching her today.

She is sitting with other children watching a skit.

She has been at the orphanage for two days.

A child is holding her hand.

Another child is stroking her arm.

She looks lost.

The other children seemed to understand her fear and sadness.

I see children in orphanages tend to stick together.

Support each other.

Just today I watched them at lunch and they were sharing their food.

Leading Jane around by the hand, showing her the ropes.

I am grateful.

Jane has the potential for a great life.

She will be educated, physically cared for.

She will be provided with love and affection.

She will be safe.

She now has sisters and brothers.

She will either learn a trade or go to University.

How can the orphanage survive?

Pay all the expenses for Jane and her new brothers and sisters?

Be in the position to accept the next “Jane” who arrives at the doorstep?

I sure hope that Jane’s new home will be able to raise enough money to continue.

To survive.

To give my daughter and others like her a life that I never had.