When I visited the old section of Hebron in the West Bank, there was a photo I could have got but didn’t and I’m happy about it.

That part of Hebron is one of the flash-points for the conflict. It has it all – a significant holy site for both Jews and Muslims, illegal Jewish settlements housed by ideological settlers who are fuelled by their religious convictions, soldiers protecting the settlers and restricting the movements of resident Palestinians who have seen much of the area around their old market taken over… and this all results in regular violent clashes.

While there observing what life is currently like, the group I was with were approached by a number of children along the way wanting to sell goods or just get some money. There was a little girl that tagged along who was different though. She was quiet and seemed to simply want to be with us. She just stuck close, watched and listened.

Her expression told a sad story. She carried many scars on her face and I have no idea how they got there. I never heard a sound from her, so I just watched her as well, wondering what her stories were. I’m not sure what it was I saw in her eyes.

For my work with TEAR Fund she presented the perfect photo. She would have pulled the heart strings of donors and rightly so. It is children like her, affected by conflict through no fault of their own, that need our support. It is for people like her that I do what I do – I want people like her to grow up knowing that they’re more than just victims of the conflicts that arise from other people’s inability to sort out their issues, their deep seated insecurities, or from the need others have for power.

The photo of a child like that would say so much without me needing to say anything… but I couldn’t do it.

I couldn’t do it because as we were leaving, other people in the group I was with started getting her photo – standing her against a wall so they had a clear background and snapping away. She seemed confused but wanting to please. It turned my stomach. It’s not that anyone was doing anything wrong, but in that moment it felt like she was being used as a tourist product and everything in me said she was so much more than that. I didn’t want to give into that sense of using her for something else.

Once they all moved away I gently stood beside her, put my hand on her shoulder and whispered that I believed in her and that she was loved. I then slipped her a small amount of money while nobody else was looking. I have no idea if she understood me – but she looked up with a faint smile and her eyes held that childish look of admiration. She then ran off tightly clasping the few coins I had given her. I got on the bus.

Part of me feels like I let down my place of work as I didn’t come back with any photos to help raise the money needed to support our partners in the West Bank and her photo would have nailed it. In our current reality of fundraising, images equate to financial support as they tell stories, convey circumstances and say things that text never could. Her photo would have led to donations, so in turn it feels a little like I let down those partners whom we financially support, and ultimately their work should impact on that little girl’s life as the ripple effects of what they do continue to broaden… but I know I did the right thing, or at least, the compassionately human thing.

She was the photo that I didn’t get even though the photographer in me knew it was the one that got away. I was glad the human in me won over. She left as more than a photo for me… she left as a child with so much life ahead of her if only she could believe the few words I spoke. I hope her circumstances don’t destroy her before she gets a chance to see what life can be.