A Victim's Perspective

In my personal crusade to find out more about food banks, obesity, and Oppressed-Canadians, I had this insightful interview with a single mother, living in poverty. Her name (changed from her real name to protect her privacy as she fights for her rights as a Refuge-Canadian) is Ubungu. She is fleeing religious prosection from Christians in her native Africa.

Ubungu lives in a small three bedroom apartment in Flemingdon park, with her son, Little Ubungu, and three other brothers and sisters. Poor Ubungu has to live on welfare, supplemented with food bank food, clothing bank clothes, plus whatever she gets from the Salvation Army, her Mormon neighbours, and the parish of St.Joan of Arc. She rarely has time to enjoy the good things in life, and instead watches TV, free movies from the library, plays bingo, or takes in classes at one of the four community centers or three libraries near by.

When I was interviewing Ubungu, I noticed something. She was washing her dishes in the same water as Little Ubungu's father's paint brushes. Little Ubungu's father lives with the family, and works as a Painter in a trades union. This mixing of paint chemicals and food dishes gave me some insight into why poor Little Ubungu was having difficulty in school. If Ubungu thought it was acceptable hygiene to mix paint and food, what other food and chemical miscegenation was occuring? I spit the tea I was drinking into the sink, rushed to the bathroom to induce vomiting, and dosed myself with a vial of activated charcoal I keep for accidental poisoning.

Ten minuites later, I felt bad. I did not want to appear racist, so I did not ask Ubungu if she was aware of the hazards in washing the porridge bowls in paint thinner, or keeping white paint concentrate on the same shelf as the flour. I could hurt her feelings, or insult her culture, so I kept my mouth closed.

Little Ubungu is having trouble in school. The street gang that claims the apartment building as it's 'turf' has refused to let him join as a Junior Gangbanger. They call him a 'mo'fo ret'ard'; his street name is 'Twitchy'. Could the frequent exposure to paint thinner, alkyd primer, and battery dust (Ubungu's father collects dead batteries and re-labels them as Nickel-Cadmium rechargables; he then takes them to Canadian Tire, claims they are 'no good', and gets his money back) be responsible for Little Ubungu's spasms, incontenence, and distinctive 'chicken walk'? Little Ubungu's social development depends upon his acceptance into the Juniors, and they have delayed his acceptance for a year. How much suffering is enough?

I was sick to my stomach at being a Canadian that day. We had failed Little 'Twitchy' Ubungu. Why are there paint products on the market that are not safe for human consumption? Society is at fault for not protecting him from irresponsible capitalists and invisible white eggshell primer privilege. Sure, there are labels on the paint; sure, a few people have received training in hazardous materials; sure, anyone who noticed and who told Ubungu is a nosy racist.

We need to support each other by giving me your money. How can you sleep at night knowing that Little Ubungu is being poisoned by greedy Albertan taxpayers? His parents are filled with concern for his health and would do anything to help him. I need your money, I need your money to prepare the action plan to lobby government to initiate the studies, to hire the activists to agitate for change, to change the laws to make all paint safe for innocents like Little Ubungu.

Send me your money.

I, Fenris Badwulf, wrote this at DustMyBroom and Mitchieville.