It was a bright, warm afternoon in Wagadugu, the busy capital of Burkina Faso. President Ibrahim Traoré had just finished a surprise visit to a local school.
He had spoken to the teachers, encouraged the students, and even laughed with a few children who ran up to shake his hand. After the visit, he walked toward his convoy, ready to return to the palace for his next meeting.
But just as he reached the main road, something made him stop.
On the side of the street, near a cracked, dusty wall, sat an elderly man. His back rested against the rough bricks as if he no longer had the strength to sit up straight. A small tin cup lay in front of him, waiting for coins that hardly ever came. His clothes were worn-out, dusty, and full of holes. His hair was messy with….Read Full Story Here……..
