I worked in South Africa for a few weeks two summers ago. One day on my lunch break I saw a man sitting on the side of the road, clearly too weak to move. I sat down next to him and we talked - it turns out he was in the final throws of AIDS. Because of superstition and lack of education, he'd been abandoned by his family and friends. He sat there with tears in his eyes, overwhelmed that a well off white boy would take the time to sit and talk to him. When I came back with a meal for him and a bottle of water he weeped - it was the fist food he'd eaten in days, and the only charity he'd received in weeks. A few days later he was found dead on the side of that same road, holding a sign that simply said "Hope".

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