They communicate in their own twang, and stand at the curb with self-assurance. You pass them every day as you walk by. When you pass, you stare straight ahead, they beam, but you do not notice the longing in their eyes. A yearning that is not sensual, more of an aching after the same rainbow lingering across the boarder. It is the first day of school for your children, but not for Sekaj and his sisters for their family is yet to find a permanent place to stay. Sekaj is the youngest and the tallest in the group, yet you would not want him as a friend for your children. His sangfroid would always make your stomach twinge with envy and you would never see his sufficiency as your poverty. If you should befriend him it would, only to luap him,
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Sekaj, Ailuj and Ahcia would be singing along with him.
“I miss grandpa,” sighs Ailuj.
“Me too,” mother answered pulling, her closer.
Vautor-Laplaceliere3
It is 9:00 P.M and they are still stand at the curb. Sekaj and his sisters do not know the children there. Only three or four seem to know each other. What they all know is that they are in it together. They stand black kids and white kids with their families.
They came from the subway and off the local Harlem street wearing bandana and baseball caps. The stress level was high for no one can leave the line until they get the keys. The landlord and his goons pull up around 9:30 and announce that he only has ten keys. He calls the names of the lucky ten Sekaj’s family are not among the fortunate ones. They would have to return in six hours and start the whole process again.
It is too late to return to the shelter in Brooklyn, and Sekaj’s family does not have money for a hotel. If they stay here they risk being arrested and losing any hope of ever being a family again. Sekaj and his family gather their bags and headed for the subway.
“Ila family, where is the Ila family?”
“Mama, that’s our name!” shouted Sekaj.
“Here, here,” answered Sekaj’s
Sekaj, Ailuj and Ahcia would be singing along with him.
“I miss grandpa,” sighs Ailuj.
“Me too,” mother answered pulling, her closer.
Vautor-Laplaceliere3
It is 9:00 P.M and they are still stand at the curb. Sekaj and his sisters do not know the children there. Only three or four seem to know each other. What they all know is that they are in it together. They stand black kids and white kids with their families.
They came from the subway and off the local Harlem street wearing bandana and baseball caps. The stress level was high for no one can leave the line until they get the keys. The landlord and his goons pull up around 9:30 and announce that he only has ten keys. He calls the names of the lucky ten Sekaj’s family are not among the fortunate ones. They would have to return in six hours and start the whole process again.
It is too late to return to the shelter in Brooklyn, and Sekaj’s family does not have money for a hotel. If they stay here they risk being arrested and losing any hope of ever being a family again. Sekaj and his family gather their bags and headed for the subway.
“Ila family, where is the Ila family?”
“Mama, that’s our name!” shouted Sekaj.
“Here, here,” answered Sekaj’s