"That was what life had become for the poor residents of Porto Diablo: a child's life, a divine entity was shamelessly bartered as a commodity in the market of venality. But the child was already dead and a corpse had no human value. So, if by dying that child could bequeath a windfall and provide some tangible economic relief for her destitute family, then no one could say that she died in vain. The sad memories would soon fade and the harsh pains would slowly abate while the money would ignite bitter squabbles because every relative would demand an equitable share...a sordid price that the dead had bestowed upon the living as a human sacrifice. Pity, remorse, anguish...were just emotions. The tangible touch of crisp notes in tight wads spoke with the eloquence of salvation. Yes, to the poor went the spoils of death!"