Hunger Is Not An Issue of Charity.
It Is An Issue Of Justice.

Jacques Diouf

It was another sleepless night and I don't know how I will get through the day, but I won't be home so that's a good thing. At least I'll eat today.

My stomach grumbled and all I've even in the last two days were an apple and a cup of noodle. It's 7am and my mother is passed out in the lounge room, her mouth ajar with saliva dripping from the side of her mouth and down her chin.

Work was a nightmare, I was pretty much in a daze and screwing up orders from all directions. At least that drunkard didn't turn up otherwise it would have been overkill. I swear alcohol inadvertently surrounds me making me think that it's the devils choice of beverage.

Later on that night the doorknob of the front door rattles, in now in the kitchen where my mother has passed out for the second time today. I should leave her there to freeze but I grab a towel from the pile unfolded washing on the couch, and cover her. I've learnt from experience not to awaken her from her stupor.

Katherine walked in, heels off with dishevelled hair and rumpled clothing.

"Don't know why you bother, I'd let her sleep in her own filth." She passed me and filled up a cup of water from the sink, and guzzled it down.

"Karma." I reply, figuring if I don't worse things will come my way.

Katherine snorted and slams the fridge, don't know why she bothered looking it's just a reminder of the lack of food. "Grow up, what else can happen to us? We've done nothing wrong and have to deal with the lifetime of bullshit." She said angrily.

Reaching into her tattered purse, Katherine gathered a bunch of bills and shoved it in my hand, a collection of condoms of all different sizes tumbling out as well.

"Where's all this money from?"

"Don't ask questions, I'll tell you no lies. Go buy some food but packet stuff we need to hide it from her." Katherine nudged our mothers arm with her foot but she remained dead to the world.

Without another word Katherine goes upstairs. Heading Katherine's words I strip the towel off my mother.

Dear Diary,
                        Today I almost passed out at work. I wanted to leave early but I pushed through my exhaustion. Coming home tonight I didn't have the energy to deal with mother and Katherine. Katherine is worrying me. I don't know where she goes at nights, but when she comes home she reeks of sex and her appearance pretty much confirms it. But who is she seeing? I know it's none of my business but I care about her, and if she's coming home like that, with wads of money and a purse full of condoms, then it can't be anybody good. It's a good thing I saw her and not mother, she would get belted again.

It's ironic mother puts so much pressure on us to look good and be attractive for a man when she's looks like the opposite. It's always the way though. When she has a man in her life, she's the sweetest person, actually looks decent and there's no abuse. It's because we are non existent, and the man is her whole world. Til he leaves. Then it's back to our fault that she can't find a man, we've ruined her body and life.

I'll never put a man over my children, correction I'm never having children, whose to say being a screw up isn't genetic.