3

We were walking by the dim light of the lamp posts by the time we made it back to camp. I began to smell the harsh stench as we came closer. It was a foul smell from the ongoing heat and so many bodies living close together. I had gotten use to it, but occasionally it pierced my senses again after returning from the mines. As soon as we got back to the camp, Jackson took off in a different direction. He told me he had someone to visit, so I told him I'd meet him at the tent. The camp was the same as when I had left that afternoon. The rows of tents glowing from candle light as far as I could see. Hundreds of people living with in feet of each other, no privacy, no quiet. Whispers, shouting, crying, all of it was a constant in my mind. At times it would drive me insane, but these conditions are what I had grown up in. After you live in the filth and trash long enough, it became what was normal, and we no longer looked at it the same, but that didn't take away the anger I felt when I knew we deserved so much better. From the edge of the camp our tent was setup near the middle, normaly a twenty minute walk. My boots crunched on the dry dirt, as I stepped over clothes and belongings spewing from a near by tent. I made my way down a row for a few minutes dodging others walking besides me, or avoiding a fist fight that came to a crashing climax, tearing down the tents as it ended. It all seemed normal to me, fighting was a way to relieve the stress, and the mess couldn't be avoided, we lived like animals. As I approached the neighborhood were we lived, I waved and nodded to the many different people that lived near by. Janette was sitting down outside her tent with her husband Bill, or was it Frank? I couldn't ever remember his name. She was a larger woman, while he was skin and bones. He looked as if a strong gust would blow him away. I always wondered how she had gotten to be so big, what in the world was she eating? She wore her flowered dress again today, grey and soiled with dirt and stains. She waved back and smiled reveiling her row of seven teeth, I almost laughed but held it back. Then there was John, a family man with three kids. He was alone though, I was told his wife had died when they made the trip here. A gentle man and good father, raising his kids alone in such a hell. I could see their silhouettes by the candle light, dancing through the thin wall of fabric. I heard the laughter and voices as they sang. I smiled, knowing that some still managed to find joy in such things. I came to the last few tents that surrounded us. Most were filled with darkness, the owners were out on the hoot-owl shift after all, but I noticed one single candle flickered to life in the neighboring tent. The man that lived there was one of the oldest to live in the camp, his name was Jeremiah. I had only a few late night conversations with him before, but he must have heard me approaching. As I passed his tent he threw his flap open and called into the darkness. "Is that you boy!?" he croaked.