A couple of months ago I caught someone referring to me as number 200. It was a chilling moment, something that remains in my memory like a knife. Right now, i wake up unable to sleep and once more take the computer to state my case. It looks like it dear reader; I have no other recourse but to write when I want my opinion stated. I live in a residence run by nuns and it is now several years that I am unable to speak or ask for the even most basic things. For example, for two Tuesdays we have been served very light meals. So light when I am finished eating I am too weak to concentrate on my work. This is how I know if we are eating well or not: I can see if I can move after the Meal or I have to lie down for yet another infinite amount of time. they wrote on the bulletin board where the meals are published: we are having a day without gas. I suppose this means a couple of things: not uncounted are the digestive problems that people experience after meals: such as flatulence (hence a day without gas). Also too much gas can also be taken to indicate peevishness due to, again digestive problems and a bad mood. Not the least of reasons for a day without gas is that yesterday was penitiant Tuesday. Before, we would have remembered the day by not eating meat. Now, we are not eating much at all. But this is off the topic, let me get back to the idea of my losing my name. And what it means financially.
It has now been about a year since my mothers death. Much to my unpleasant surprise, the will that was made when my father died has vanished without a trace. Not only am I left at the mercy of a cruel brother and his many associates, the house has been almost emptied and I have no pictures and no possessions that even show I have had a family. Every month my brother writes me a cheque (actually several) for a very meager sum of money. As a matter of fact it is no means I have to think very carefully before I go out to buy a proper amount of food. (see the paragraph above about my weakness after our meals).
Luckily, the social welfare system has contacted me and has reinstated my pension. thank god because now I can get some work done. I work slow but I am getting things done. without the pension, I shudder to think what would have happened if the financial situation would remain solely in the hands of my brother and his family. One thing is clear. The relationship that I would have to endure with any kind of 'family" I would happen to have would be based on beatings. And the harsh specter of human trafficking is right next to me at this time. I fear that my identity will be taken away from em permanently. That is why my brother has said so clearly that he will not give me a thing. I cannot even believe that the man is left to do this without anyone saying anything about. But he continues to say it and my god he means it. For now, God bless them ,t he social welfare system has come through. But My pension is called Last Resort financial assistance. The name is a warning and I am afraid of it.
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