In the refugee camp where the wide-girthed, financially well endowed man comes to find a child bride, because his doctrines tell him that he is being kind and caring to marry such as these, I find that stepping lightly takes on a different slant. Here it is better to risk my life to protect that child than be light-footed.

Suna and her family lived in a village. She married into that clan years ago, when she was but a child herself, as girl-children do in her nation.

Bulgaria was hard to grow up in. Her aunt didn't want another mouth to feed. Muddy fields to plough, firewood to find, gather and haul for miles, often empty stores to shop for items that often weren't there... why add another mouth, especially a girl? So Zhivka left the only home she had ever known when she was 14.

After the heat and the bitterness, and after the sixth of the month, After our enemies had rejoiced at her pain and said, “There is a stone in her tummy!” The stone is in their heads! And this overwhelms them. Go! O bearer of the news! Kiss them and tell them, “She has borne a son!”

But the lullaby for a newborn girl is:

When they said “It’s a girl!” - that was a horrible moment. The honey pudding turned to ashes and the dates became scorpions. When they said, “It’s a girl!” the cornerstone of the house crumbled. And they brought me eggs in their shells and instead of butter, water.

The child can't sit still. Orphaned and abandoned, he was rescued by people who had an orphanage. But when the government said Christians can't do social programs because they might convert someone, the orphanage was abrubtly taken away from them and put in government control.