Jenny wakes up at six in the morning
Stares at the blue sky above
Closes her eyes and goes back to her dreams
She is safe, she feels safe
Half past six in the morning
She feels the sting from the burning sun
It’s time to work, time to walk
She taps her skirt to straighten it
“I’m ready.”
The roads are filled today
Busy as always, she thought
The horns erupting from here ’til the end
Drivers shouting everywhere
“Roads are closed ahead. Alternate routes.”
Jenny smiles.
Early OT for her work
She walks near a black SUV
Knocks on the window
Waits for the response
Knocks again. Quiet.
“The third’s the last.”
None.
Empty hand
Empty stomach
It’s eight and she got four pesos in her hand
The traffic jam is gone
She walks to another street
Ignoring some shadows talking
“Her parents must be lazy”
“How could they let her find money for them”
“Such a pity”
Jenny walks
Squeezing the 10 pesos
It’s nine-thirty.
Empty stomach
Empty streets
Jenny’s lazy parents,
as the shadows said,
Are lying still under
some burned woods behind
The slums were burned the other night
Twenty more families fled,
many children left
Some were kept under the rubble.
She feels safe,
abandoned.
Safe is a lie.
She’s eight and it’s her first day of work
She got 10 pesos, but left alone in this world.
Yakapin 