Don’s mother was only able to find temp jobs. At a laundry, as a cashier, at a gas station. And, for long periods, none at all. She was scared during those phases. And she was scared when she had a job that she’d lose it again. She couldn’t sleep, could barely eat, barely breathe, and always lost the job. Scared. Always scared of everything. She dreaded winter the most, because that was the time when the children got sick, which meant at least eight hours sitting around the hospital, which meant she’d be out a job once again. Then she’d have to go to the unemployment office, let herself be treated shabbily, and be forced to take a course, like for instance one on how to compose a properly written job application. Which, upon every gas station owner in town, most of whom are illiterate—now, now, let’s not be racist—naturally makes a huge impression. When the money from the unemployment office was gone and Don’s mother still had no job, she had to go to the Christians and their food banks.

DON

Hated the visits to the Christians. They meant: waiting an hour or two outside. And then standing in front of women whose teeth were too big and who smelled of old, wet kitchen rags, whose red faces had big noses with burst veins and whose yellowish gray hair was always matted down in the back. Letting people like that fill your pockets with canned beans was deeply humiliating. And here’s a little something nice for the wee ones. Who were these horrid-looking people, what gave them the right to their condescending charitableness that didn’t distinguish between welfare recipients and dogs? Don always imagined going back to see these gracious people, with a machete. She pictured herself, and the Christians in their own blood, their skirts riding up, their legs twisted on the floor. And then Don saw herself leaning over the victims and for a finishing touch shoving tins of beans into their mouths.

Which was completely unfair, of course, since without the Christians who fed and petted the poor, most of them would probably already be dead. The aim of the state was to reduce social services to a minimum in order to foster the strong, hardworking segments of the populace. As well as. Just to save money. As well as. To maintain the country’s neoliberal course.