A major event in the grim routine of the leprosarium at Nyamsong in Cameroon is a visit by a tall, burly priest in a limp white cassock. As he approaches the swampy hamlet, with its hospital, schools and workshops, the lepers come out of their huts to greet him: in wheelchairs, on crutches, on their knees. Some have only stumps in place of hands and feet; others are completely covered with ugly open sores. Smiling gravely, the priest greets them all, clasping some to his breast, kissing others, lifting the children high...
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