The Day I Met Tereza

I twist my bare feet in the sand where I stand and look around Tereza’s home. Since her husband died, Tereza has lived alone with her four children. At night, they sleep in a small round hut with mud walls and share just one blanket between them.

The kitchen is a fire made of logs, stones, and one tin pot. A tree holds a makeshift shelf where cutlery, plates and knives are stored. Life here is very basic; Tereza lives from day-to-day, not knowing where her family’s next meal will come from.