Blog 33-Work but Not a Job

Don't know how but Machi charged my laptop. He took it last night without asking when he and David left to do whatever it was they did. I didn't know why they needed it. They went to work. Their work was amorphous and self-initiated, not like any job I'd ever had. It was work, but not a job. Sometimes they were out with the thug boys and other times with the demonstrators who wore orange. What did these boys do? Whether or not it was called a job, humans worked. When the boys (men, really) came back early this morning as I was rising, the laptop was charged so at least I didn't have to scramble to do that. Machi was about to tell me how he did this when David looked at his phone, patted him on the shoulder and they were gone again. When did they sleep?
I was still in the notebook, felt like good things were happening in the notebook, so I was afraid to use the laptop now I had the choice. He had been building our fires every night before he left. I was afraid without him, my 17 year old protector. I was afraid to go to sleep in this shelter with no walls or doors or locks, surrounded by hundreds of people who had less than we had in our duffels, and in my secret money belt I kept strapped to my body all the time. I was surrounded by home invaders. How easy it would be to invade a home that had no walls.
They came back again and crawled into Machi's blue tarp shelter alongside mine.