by Stephanie
My life is a daily struggle. Since I sought asylum, I have had to learn to survive on nothing. I am not allowed to work, and have no source of income. I have to rely on vouchers that I receive every week. These are worth £70; I have to spend them on food for me and my son. That is £5 a day for each of us. I must be very meticulous if I want us to survive on these vouchers till the following week.
I can only do my shopping in a specific supermarket stated on the vouchers, which is situated miles away from where I live. So, I have to travel by bus to get to this supermarket. But I don't have money to pay for a bus pass. I cannot walk to the supermarket, because of the distance.
When I do manage to get to the supermarket, I must make sure that I buy what is essential for the baby first. By the time I finish, I am left with almost nothing. So I have to go for whatever is the cheapest, which most of the time is junk food.
Sometimes I make a mistake, and buy more than the vouchers will pay for. While the cashier is re-counting, I always feel like opening the earth beneath my feet and burying myself in it rather than having to see the look on her face or to hear the sighing of people in the queue.
But even when that doesn't happen, I am uncomfortable having to pay with vouchers. People in the queue always notice. I can tell by the expression on their faces. Some have this expression of pity or compassion, while others are just angry to see that I am one of those people who are supported by their hard work. I would love to support myself. But I am not allowed to.
Once, there was this old lady who greeted me as I took my basket. There was nothing wrong with that, because she had been greeting people before me. Nevertheless, I did not like the sound of her voice. It was like she felt sorry for me. I was angry. I did not say anything; I did not want her sympathy. All I wanted was to get out of there. From that day, I started going to another branch of the supermarket, just to avoid being recognised by the staff.
A few days later, I had just breastfed my baby, and I was hungry and dizzy. But there was nothing in the cupboard or the fridge. I cannot store food; there is no space for storage, I have to think about others with whom I share the house.
I lay down on my bed holding my vouchers, hoping that the only lady that receives money in the house would be back soon, so I could borrow her bus pass. Time went by and she had not come. I felt so low. I cried, not from hunger but because I was powerless. I wanted to shout out my frustration; but to whom? I looked at my baby. He was calmly asleep, not knowing what I was going through. I took him in my arms, his mutter brought a smile on my face and I closed my eyes.
For now, he is the one that keeps me going, He is my rock. I have to keep fighting for him, with or without money.
