The Zulu warrior stood alone, legs locked in fear as he peered intently down the darkened street with only an occasional light showing. He must go down this street in order to make it into the relative safety of the Project where he lived with his wife and children.
Just a few days before he had been told by his boss that that he was being moved to the afternoon shift which meant that he would be traveling home well after dark. He confided to his friend that he was filled with fear over what he must face. His friend was amazed that a Zulu warrior would know such fear for, when Zulu warriors went to war, they knew no fear. He had explained the source of his fear to his friend. It had helped somewhat but tonight here he stood.
The Zulu warrior stood, at the head of the street he must walk down. He was feeling deeply afraid. He must give himself a few moments to still his fear, as he had been trained to do. Then he must make his way carefully down the street ready to defend himself or run for his life at any moment.
The Zulu warrior was afraid of them. They ran in feral packs at night and hunted for humans whom they might overtake and rob. During the day they begged upon the streets of the city. Some as young as five years old sniffed glue during the day and at night they ran in packs, these homeless children.
At night they sometimes laid in wait for helpless people to rob. They hid under cars and over walls and they would swarm out and attack. They would stab with anything sharp. They would bring their human prey down to the ground and rob them. They might kill them. The pack of children would leave them for dead.
Where had these feral children come from?
Some of these homeless children had been turned out of the house by their parents and told to go make their own way in the world.
What must be done to rescue these children?
Do not give them money it only perpetuates their misery. Their best hope is to make their way to the shelters setup for the care of these homeless and parentless children.
