My first night in the Salvation Army hostel was a bad
experience. Many of the local guests were heavily
intoxicated and were walking around in an apparent daze. I
made a mistake of choosing the lower bunk bed without
checking out who was in the upper bunk. Well, the guy who
occupied the upper bunk was drunk and wet the bed and
some drops were coming down to where I was lying. I went
to the bathroom to clean up and when I came back I found
that someone stole from my jacket the 10 shillings that the
Red Cross gave me. At that time I had no idea of the value
of 10 shillings, I didn’t think it would buy a lot of things, but I
was looking forward to going out of the hostel the next day
to look around and buy some bread and salami (the type of
food that I was used to in Hungary).
I sat up all night on the side of the bed and went
through a wide range of emotions. It was December and
near Christmas, I thought of my parents wondering where I
was. Perhaps it would have been better if I hit a land mine
when I was crawling across the border. Why did I have to
recite that poem anyway? If I didn’t, I would be back in high
school and getting ready for law school. Now, here I am
among the drunks, no money, no job, and no one to turn to.
Then, my desperation turned into anger and said to myself
that nobody will ever piss on me again!
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