Published in the The Human Rights Magazine By: Fr. Shay Cullen
Little has changed in the Philippine prison system since that day several years ago when I found a little six year old, named Rosy, behind prison bars clutching a drink can and crying her heart out for her mother. A dozen or so other street children were sprawling on the hard concrete floor, unconscious with exhaustion and hunger.
The toxic fumes they inhaled from a plastic bag of industrial glue taken from them when the local police rounded them up, knocked out some. The cheap drug was their only remedy for the constant pangs of an empty stomach. Rosy was too young for that. She had been taken from her mother who was a street vendor . . . . .
The toxic fumes they inhaled from a plastic bag of industrial glue taken from them when the local police rounded them up, knocked out some. The cheap drug was their only remedy for the constant pangs of an empty stomach. Rosy was too young for that. She had been taken from her mother who was a street vendor . . . . .
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