We all piled into my grandfather's '92 Chevy and went for a ride. A few miles out we saw children playing. They stopped and ran up to the road. They were nearly naked. They had big eyes and big heads and big rounded bellies. "They're well fed," my mother said.

They stood like fenceposts and watched us drive by. You could see how huge their eyes were, wet shiny black orbs in ash-dusted faces. My grandfather told us to roll up the windows and lock the doors so the noise of the radio wouldn't bother the neighborhood.