“Days and Nights”: People and Us

by FERENC IVANICS
Night or day, day or night. I’m wondering about which one to start with... Heads: I’m going to tell you about our encounters during the days.

We have met kind and helpful people in America but in Europe and Africa as well. They are the people who can definitely make your day. A week ago we were walking through Morgan City when, totally unexpectedly, a car pulled off the road and stopped in front of us. The driver—a man in his thirties—got out of the car and started to ask us questions with real interest. When we gave him every information he was interested in he invited us for a meal then offered his flat for us to stay there for the night. He left that night to New Orleans, leaving his flat to us: to eat, drink, watch a DVD, anything like that. We took a shower, watched a movie and slept through the night. Thank you, Pete!

A few days ago we were heading to Lafayette. We were practically broke; we still haven’t been able to reach our last hundred bucks on our bank account due to an unknown reason. We were walking in silence, didn’t really feel like chatting around... In a crossing a white pickup stopped by and the usual process started: questions and answers. And a moment later Mike Sutton said that he really would like to help our cause, then handed over a hundred dollar bill to my brother, István. Just what the doctor ordered. :) Thank you!

A couple of days later we didn’t manage to find a place to camp on. There was a small spot but it was quite muddy. An older lady stepped to us, she was on her way home from shopping. She offered her spacious, grassy yard laced with old oak trees. And next morning she invited us to have a breakfast with her in the house. Eleanor Guidroz, thank you!

There were others who invited us, let us a dry spot to put up our tents on, gave us money, food or drinks. These are the real days for us. Open, warm-hearted people willing to help.

But we have nights as well. It happened a week or two ago. We were walking above the Louisiana swamps on the road number 90, it was dusk already, we were walking fast to reach the next truck shop before night falls. We got there: and we saw a gas station, a parking lot, sugar canes and swamp. There was a small grassy spot at one corner of the parking. We went into the shop and asked the chief to call the boss for permission for us to stay and camp there. He didn’t allow to camp there but to stay in the drivers restroom. We found there two armchairs large enough to sleep on and a TV-set. All right, more than enough. Tired, we were just getting ready to turn in when they changed shifts in the gas station. The new security guard asked us who we were then called the owner of the station who told him to throw us out. So, 1AM we went on to search for another spot in the wild.

The day before yesterday a powerful storm was closing on us. In the very last moment we spotted a semi-open garage-like building. We knocked on the door and a friendly African American woman opened, with her husband in the background. They let us stay there with the roof above our heads. But the rain poured and poured, so we had to asked them to let us put up our tents. They gave permission without hesitation. Yay! We didn’t have to spend an hour in pouring rain finding another spot. The tent of my brother was already up when an older woman appeared stating that she is the owner of the property and: get out! No explanations accepted, no newspaper articles resulted to be convincing enough, she didn’t listen to us but called the cops. They weren’t hostile but didn’t really try to help either, told us to find a church nearby.

So, we marched on to find the church in a rainy, dark night. It was a huge one with a great green yard around it, and with a numerous herd present at that late hour. When the old ladies saw us approaching they took shelter behind the large glass gates of the church and stared at us from inside. Finally a man who looked like a janitor approached us, and a few minutes later the ladies dared to open the gates. We told them our story but they rejected our request. We asked them to call the preacher, but they refused to call him, apparently scared almost to death. Poor souls... And poor us...

We’ve been rejected many times before, it’s common that people do not want to listen to us asking for help. The real nights are like that. People who are scared, aloof or just plain selfish. Day and night, this is the reality of this world. It’s unavoidable. We try to survive the nights and hope to see the next sunrise.