A Story of Survival - Chapter 5

The next week, David drove to Georgetown for his new job. He rented an apartment in a run-down neighbourhood, mostly filled with underpaid, migrant workers. He worked hard every day, sending back most of his pay cheque.

Back in the suburbs, Sophia decided to take up a new hobby – gardening. Their backyard was huge and filled with luscious grass, thanks to David watering it so frequently. On one half of the yard, David had built a wooden playground for Nancy, so Sophia used the other half to plot a vegetable garden. Within six months, Sophia had a surplus of carrots, lettuce, tomatoes, beets, and more. Her neighbours were impressed by what she’d accomplished and started paying her to grow fresh vegetables for them.

Soon, much of the produce and spices she had were homegrown, which cut down the grocery bill significantly. Also, she started keeping chickens in a coop that her friends helped her build. She tended to them constantly and ate fresh omelettes every morning. Occasionally, Nancy would help her dig holes for the new bulbs, but mostly she spent her time in the yard chasing the chickens around.

“I will name this one, Boogers!” Nancy said, gently hugging a hen as it sat in her lap.

“Boogers!?” Sophia gasped, “That’s gross! Don’t you want it to have a prettier name?”

“Nope, Boogers!” she giggled, throwing her hands in the air, and the hen ran free.

Sophia laughed and pushed dirt over a hole. “I wish you wouldn’t name them. What happens when Boogers isn’t around anymore?”

“Where would she go?” she asked, rolling around in the grass.

“Did you enjoy that meal we had last night? It was chicken.” Sophia picked Nancy up and hugged her. “Where did you think that came from?”

“The food fairy, Mommy!” Nancy said, and they both laughed.

That night, David laid in bed covered with an itchy blanket. He’d just got off the phone with his girls, who told him about their thriving garden. The whole neighbourhood was raving about it, and sometimes traded other food to her for fresh vegetables. He couldn’t bear to tell them how badly he was struggling.

His new job didn’t paid enough, and he had a hard time keeping up with the stacks of paperwork. There wasn’t much money to spare after paying his rent in the crummy apartment and buying food and toiletries. He stared up at the ceiling, unable to sleep, then got up to watch the news on his laptop. Outside, there were sounds of gunfire and sirens blaring in every direction. His neighbourhood had grown more unsafe each night, with all the fights and arson roaring through the streets.

As he watched the news, he learned that many of the fights involved youth gangs and their struggle to find decent work. They blamed the migrant workers, who were confined to David’s neighbourhood, for taking their jobs. The police had their hands full, and every night on the news there was another story about deaths in a fire and police shootings. David stared at the screen in horror, wondering if or when he would get caught in the crossfire.

He jumped when he heard screams and people calling for help. This was normal in the neighbourhood, as the locals regularly attacked the migrants, looting their shops and setting everything on fire. David never went out in the night because people were being murdered, and the police imposed dusk-to-dawn curfew in the city. The situation was escalating, and the youth gangs were not backing down.