The Crazy Apartment Before the Nice One and One Bill After Another
I still remember our old apartment. I see it in my mind like I lived in a jail, a dangerous railroad, a wrong place to live. My family lived in an apartment like that because there wasn’t any other place and nowhere to live in America without paying a lot of bills. Everyday, in our mind, we were concerned about what was going to happen the next day. We worried about the terrible people in the coming day or the coming week. We worried about people who were unfriendly to us with every move; my brother and sisters got into fights at school or inside our apartment.
The people drove crazily. The speed limit should be 5 miles per hour, but they speed up to 30 miles per hour. Even my father used his little English that he knows to stop them from speeding where kids are. I asked the apartment manger if she could just write a letter to every room to stop speeding in the apartment and this is what I heard her say to me, “I am the manger. You are from Africa and you should not be talking because you don’t have any right to tell me what to do about people living in my apartment.” She also mentioned that she didn’t care about the money we paid every month. She said that if we didn’t want to live there than we could move at the end of the month.. My father told me to translate to her that he saves his money the best he can just to pay her the rent on time and she didn’t understand that we care about paying the bills on time. She said, “Thank you for saving your money to pay me on time; that is not bad, but the bad is that I don’t like somebody else to tell me what to do.”
We paid for our apartment and still she was not helping us like we wanted. Our apartment to me was a jail and it was the last place I would ever want somebody to live. After I told the apartment manger about the speeding in the area, the people started speeding even more than before. One day a drunk woman hit my sister in her leg and tried to run away after she hit my sister. My father, I don’t know where he was coming from, he found the woman who hit my sister and tried to run away. We have the right to call the police, but they called the police. What I heard from the police officer was, “Why are you guys trying to fight them for?” In between the other people were saying some bad words about us, but I saw the police officer let it go and attacked us. The ambulance came and took us (my father, my little sister that had been hit by a car, and I) to the hospital.
After we got to the hospital, my sister told us some words I can’t even type that were said by the county officer. I thought my sister was lying to me, but then I believed in her. That made me so mad and I asked myself why should the world be like this? Since the accident happened, we are still waiting for our rights, but they never come to us. That makes me feel a lot of pain in my heart because of the way people are still moving on with this kind of living.
At that time, in the family, there is only me working. I could cover the apartment bill, power bill and phone bill. I was just okay in that time. But after my sister’s accident happened, the okay changed to the worst; I couldn’t think about my future anymore but I was also determined to fight against the bills.