The Shoes.

So I have a pair of shoes, and they are my favourite shoes! I got them in the summer of 2007 on my way to Cornerstone Festival in Illinois. Some of my friends (shout out VJWC!) decorated them for me beautifully with a sharpee marker. They're my favourite shoes.
I've worn them out like crazy. Firstly, I'm not easy on my shoes. Secondly, Africa is not easy on shoes. I've included some pictures.
All year I've been hearing from numerous people in Hands, in the villages, everywhere, about my shoes. Community people say things like, "We may be poor, but we don't need to wear shoes like that" or Hands people say things like, "You look like a vulnerable child".
The problem is, I just don't care. I love my shoes and the trashier they get, the more I love them.
I decided, though, that it was time to buy new shoes. Not because I was planning on replacing my beloved shoes, but because in two days I'll be walking around slums in Nigeria and (please look at the pictures) bottomless shoes are not ideal.
I went to a store called Jet to find some cheeaaap shoes. I was looking for a pair of sandals (for Moz, which was incredible by the way) and a pair of shoes for Nigeria.
I took my beloved shoes off as I tried on different shoes. I walked around the store for about 20 minutes with different shoes on my feet. Finally, I found a pair of sandals (but no shoes) and began trying to locate my beloved shoes.
The aisles were clean.
I asked the lady working if she had seen my shoes. She gives me a strange look and says, "Oh.. those were your shoes." She began telling the rest of the ladies (in a language I do not fully understand) and they all had very surprised looks on their faces. They were shocked for two reasons: 1. A white girl had shoes like a vulnerable child; 2. The white girl with the vulnerable child shoes was looking for the vulnerable child shoes, as if she wanted them.
One lady began to leave the store and returned with my beloved shoes. She had thrown them in the garbage. Not the garbage in the store. The garbage outside the store. I proudly took them back as the entire store stared, mouths agape.

I'm really not sure what to do with my beloved shoes. I promised a few people I'd toss them, but every time I try, I hear the shoes cry a little and I swear I see a tear..