Missionary Kim led in a small group of children to the front of the sanctuary. Turns out they have to be disciplined for wetting the bed, and we pardoned ourselves from the church - both for their sake and ours. Their crying and screams of pain weren't exactly complimentary with our breakfast of pan-friend French toast and soup, and it would've been worse if we'd actually witnessed the beatings first hand. It was distinctly disturbing, far more so than watching a suicide bombing on the telly. It is this that I should have felt whenever I saw a death or a horror film instead of the excitement and anticipation they bring on. This is the price for entertainment - desensitization. A heavy price to pay.
The sight of a gazelle bounding by the inside of the gate briefly distracted us, and the dogs stood guard. Breakfast continued as the kids were finally released to eat their own breakfast of a tin mug of porridge. We hid and ate in our classroom/office.
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