As we climbed down the hill to the street, the nuns who ran the place told us to watch our step. There was no indoor plumbing in the corrugated shacks which surrounded us. So people dumped the contents of the buckets which served as toilets onto the path; and when the rains came, the stuff washed down into the streets.

A kind of urban slough had formed where the path met the street, and a young girl was bathing in it. That image has stayed with me ever since.