Federico Carrillo

"Shit!" I curse as I get out of my limo and step straight into a mud puddle. "Damn, those shoes were new!" Great, my new Oxford shoes are ruined! I sigh, take my lighter and cigarette case out of my suit pocket and light a cigarette. A deep drag and the smoke fills my lungs. I hold my breath for a few seconds before letting out the smoke. And immediately turn up my nose. God, how this stinks! I let my gaze wander over the makeshift houses made of corrugated iron sheets and cardboard boxes. Children in torn clothes sit on the muddy street and play with broken toys. Adults come out of the houses, some emaciated, some marked by drug addiction. The air smells of feces. What else would I expect? Welcome to the slums! I tell my driver to wait and not shoot anyone. I can't use any more bad press! I slowly make my way, my shoes are already ruined. I'll check on the children. They run towards me and try to get my attention. After all, it's not every day that a rich man dares to come here. The adults look at me skeptically, as they seem to know what I'm up to. Ever since that little slip-up with my opponent in front of the camera a few weeks ago, the press has been attacking me like hungry lions over a piece of raw meat. My marketing manager said it would be good to take in a child with me. Or at least someone I can use for good publicity. All well and good. But why someone from the slums? Culture and education have been completely lost here!