“Take my picture!”

The boy in the brown garb yelled across the muddy street in the section of the camp called Mogadishu.

We happily crossed over and talked with them. They wanted us to know their names. And they wanted to know our names.

“What do you want to do after you are finished with school?”

I put the question to them. None of them hesitated.

Two want to be pilots. One wants to be an engineer. Two others want to be Professors.

It’s good to know they have such dreams in this place that tells them that they are nobodies and unwanted by the outside world.

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