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... ibute the food. Before setting out, we’d sketched a rough map of the slums, dividing the areas among us to cover. Each of us took a section to make sure we missed nothing. But as soon as I reached my assigned area, I knew I wouldn’t be able to do my part. The residents were celebrating—not in the usual way, no food or drink passed around, no music filled the air—but it was unmistakably a celebration. They talked in hushed but excited voices, and their movements didn’t have the usual heaviness. T ...

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