Living during a time when there was a famine was very hard. There was so much misery and sadness. There was so much death. I constantly heard about people that just died or were on death's doorstep. The one good thing is that my little sister seemed to be well again. I knew however that hunger was not the cause of people dying. It was also because people were so weak, that everyone picked up every virus that was in the air. A sickness that was not considered dangerous was now life-threatening. This meant that my little sister could get sick at any time. It also meant that I could. I knew that I was becoming thinner and weaker every day.
It was the soup kitchen that was keeping people alive. The English government did not think that the Irish famine was a big deal. The soup kitchen was a cheap solution for them. It was like throwing scraps of food at the stray dogs. Still, it kept so many people alive. I never liked soup, but now every time I had soup from the soup kitchen, it tasted so good. It tasted better every time. So you can imagine how everyone felt one day when they went to the soup kitchen and found it was now closed. The English government no longer wanted to use money on the Irish people.
Nothing was said as we walked home. I knew that my mother was worried. She could depend on the soup kitchen to take away most of our hunger. Now she had to worry about how she would feed us, especially now that we had a little orphan living with us. As we walked, I could not help but notice the many fields of wheat and cattle and sheep. This could feed the people in our village and other towns. Mom must have noticed me looking and told me no Irish person would benefit from the wheat and animals. It would all be exported abroad. The people of Ireland were suffering, but this did not bother the Landlords, they wanted a profit.
Mom tried to be inventive and use her imagination when she fed us. One of her great ideals was to make Nettle Soup. I could not believe that we were now trying to survive on weeds. I did not like the taste even though I was so hungry. It was downgrading and humiliating. Still, it was the only way I could survive. It made me think about what the people in the village eat. Were they boiling old shoes or something like that?
I met Samuel and he could see that I was depressed. I tried to talk with him about normal things. This did not work as Samuel was upset. He did not think the famine was a punishment from God. He thought it was a mismanagement of land. His Dad did not care about the Irish people. He wanted all the tenants off his land so he could use it for cattle. Cattle did not cause trouble. Samuel was tired of the greed of his dad. He wanted to help people. The problem is that he is the same age as me and what can a child do?
I told Samuel that in the future, the Irish people would recover and there would be enough to eat. I told him what a Christmas dinner would taste like. It would be Turkey and mashed potatoes as well as so many other things. I explained to Samuel what Christmas pudding tastes like as well as chocolate. Samuel smiled when I said this and told me that a poor family like mine never tasted that sort of food. He told me that he loved my imagination. I could not tell him that I had been travelling through time.
I had enough of living during the famine. In fact, I had enough of travelling through time. I wanted to go back home in 2020 and be with my real family. I missed my parents and my brother so much. I missed the life that I had and my friends. I know that I never paid attention during some classes and this travelling through time was some sort of punishment. I have learned my lesson. The magic book could now send me back to my real family. If there was any justice, then the book would send me back.
I had to go home, It was nice to meet Samuel and smile for a few moments. On my way home, I was reminded once again of the misery around me. On the side of the road, there was a woman on the side of the road. Of course, I approached her to see if I could help her. This could not be done as the old lady was dead. This was so sad. She must have been so hungry and weak. The worst thing was that she must have died alone. What a sad ending to her life. I wonder what sort of person that she was. What was she like before the famine? I imagined that she was a strong person and a good person. Now she was in peace. It reminded me that death was an everyday event. People were used to death. One had to wonder who would be next.
My mother was more depressed than she ever was. I could understand this as she was worried about how she would feed us. On top of that, my sister could get sick at any time and the orphan boy that was living with us was also weak. I admit that I was getting worse and worse every day. Since there was so much death around us, it was a matter of time before the darkness of death was a shadow over our cottage. On top of this, I assumed that my mother was worried about what would happen if she died. She was worried what would happen to us. Orphans did not want to go to the workhouse, they would rather be homeless and live on the side of the street.
The mood of the Irish people was not just being depressed and afraid. They were also angry. They felt like the English did not help them or protect them. This was especially true after the government closed the soup kitchens. Families were split. So many have died and so many have emigrated. You could see that the one busy village was quickly becoming a ghost town. The Irish people were not mad at God. They were mad at the English. This meant that some rebels were using this anger to recruit people to their cause. Mom told us not to speak badly about the English and not to speak with the rebels. She was also worried that our family would not be popular because of my friendship with Samuel, who was the English landlord's son.
The landlord visited us once again to demand rent. Of course, we did not have the money. The landlord told us that in 3 days we would be evicted. My mother begged for an extra chance but the landlord said that he made up his mind. Mom asked where we would live. The landlord said we should go to a workhouse. This was what everyone dreaded. These workhouses were large, institutional buildings where the destitute, including families, elderly people, and children, were sent to live and work in exchange for food and shelter. Conditions in workhouses were often harsh and grim. Families were separated, and inmates had to perform difficult and monotonous tasks such as breaking stones or crushing bones for fertilizer. The food provided was often meagre and of poor quality. Sanitation was inadequate, leading to the spread of diseases like cholera and typhus.
Shortly after we were that we would be evicted, Samuel wanted to speak to me. He was tired of his dad and he was worried about me. He had decided that we would run away. We would take some money from his Dad and give some to my mother so she could survive. Samuel and I would take the rest of the money and go to Dublin and maybe emigrate to the USA where we could start a new life. I thought that this was a silly and foolish idea. We were only 11 years old. How would two children survive alone? Still, I agreed to it. Things could not get any worse than they were now.
So we took the money and gave some to my mother. She was asleep when we had done it so I wrote a small goodbye letter. I do not even know if she could read. Then Samuel and I started walking along the long road. This did not last long as the landlord and some English soldiers found us. The landlord did not speak with me. He was very mad and disappointed with his son. He gave a long speech about how his son had a responsibility and how he needed to be more English. Samuel would be sent to a boarding school to learn how to be more English.
Then the landlord looked at me and raised a gun at me. Samuel begged his Dad to let me be and to put the gun down. The landlord said that he was tired of my kind. He was going to kill me. He was going to be murdered. The landlord would also get away with it. He would never be arrested for murdering a child. Somehow he would cover it up.
I heard the gun click and knew the bullet would hit me at any time. The magic book did its work again and there was thunder and black smoke around me. I was dragged into a black tunnel and once again thrown through time. This time, I found myself in an old office. As I looked around, I could see Nazi banners and a very angry man. He had a strange moustache.
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The next part will be the final part “Sign of the Timez – Hitler's Shadow”
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