I have in front of me a photo of a little girl from El Salvador, a real little cutie. She’s eight years old and Plan-uk are suggesting I sponsor her now that my previous little girl is eighteen. Plan is a children’s charity, working with some of the world’s poorest, and not connected to any religious organisation, political party or extreme ideology. Just protection and ‘building a better future’: health, education, equality, empowerment.
When I sponsor her my money goes to her community, not directly to her family, so there’s no bitterness or rivalry between sponsored and not. I get a personal connection with her – we’ll exchange a few photos, drawings and letters which, I can tell you, are absolutely wonderful to receive.
The details tell me that she is one of three girls, living in a house made of adobe with a shingle roof and an earth floor. Water comes from a river, they use a pit latrine and the nearest health clinic is thirty minutes away. But she doesn’t go to school “because she has an impairment”. “She is suffering an impairment that affects communication”.
I look at her smiley face, hands thrust into pockets of her skirt, skinny legs ending in shoes much too big, and just think “how could I not?”