My name is Kyndall. I was born in Wicklow, Ireland. My Mamai and Dadai were very poor from the start. Dadai was a day laborer who would travel into Dublin during the week to work and come back home for the weekends. What I mostly remember about my early childhood is hunger.
Not the type of hunger that happens when you skip breakfast, but the type that leaves you too weak to move. So empty that you find yourself chewing pieces of food wrappers just for the taste, and to have something in your belly. On weeks that my father found work we feasted on some stale bread, maybe even a piece of moldy cheese from the farmers in town Mamai would cut the bad parts off and we would nibble on it for the next few days.. Most other days it was a potato and onion in a stew.
When I was about 4 my father made me a sling shot. I was in awe. It was such a simple thing, but the more I played with it the better a shot I became. Soon after I realized I could hit birds off the roof, or off fences near the farmers land. I would shoot down a few robins or pigeons and bring them home to my mom, though they weren't very big they were meat, which was a rare treat in our home. Sometimes I even got a rabbit, which was a cause for celebration in our house. One day I brough home 2 rabbits, Mamai gave me a great smile and told me how proud she was. Her eyes teared up as she told me Dadai was due home the next day, and so she helped me skin the animal and she made a grand stew with potatoes, carrots, onions and mushrooms. Grandad and Nanny Conlon even joined us for the meal. Little did I know that this meal would change the course of my life.
Dadai came home that Friday evening with papers in his bag. After we had eaten our dinner he pulled them out and set them on the table. We had never been able to afford for me to attend school in the town, so I had no idea what the papers said. He explained that we were going to be moving to America. He signed up with a ship building company based out of a city over there. They would pay passage for the family and pay him less until it they were paid back. We were to leave in a month. I glanced at Mamai who looked shaken,I knew it had to be something to do with the bulge in her abdomen. The baby was supposed to be coming in 2 months. I was told to leave the room, so I knew there was going to be words exchanged I wasn't allowed to hear.
A few weeks later we had packed our few belongings and traveled to the ports for the trip overseas. We lived in the belly of a ship that was meant to transport goods. Makeshift beds were set up in corners and between crates piled several feet high. There were 5 other families, 4 of which had kids. One had an infant boy, and I liked to sit and watch them. I was excited for my mother to have the baby when we reached America. I sat day dreaming of holding a little brother and teaching him to shoot a slingshot with me.
Two days into the journey several passengers fell ill. A few days later the baby died. The parents cried and the mother screamed when the Captain told her they would have to bury the infant at sea. It was a sad little service they held before releasing the crate with his body overboard. Mamai was so ill over this period, that she hadn't even gotten out of her bed on the floor of the ship. During the night she began wailing and thrashing. Dadai called one of the other ladies over. The baby was coming almost a month early. Eight hours later my baby sister Maeve was born. She did nothing but scream as the ladies held her. Mamai was still too weak to hold her, so through the night they kept watch over her and the baby.
She was moaning and crying when I woke up the next morning. Father sent me above deck. After walking around to the front of the ship I finally saw my new home. It was hard to see much, but there were other ships and smaller boats that were closer to us.
The captain sounded a horn from somewhere on the ship. I was so happy to almost be there that I raced back to the stairs to where we were staying. As I reached the top steps I heard a scream, and halted. A moment later there were sobs. It wasn't a woman crying, and when got to our sleeping area, I saw my dad on his knees holding my mother's now limp body. I sunk to the floor crying.
My father was a practical man. He knew his wife was gone. He also knew he couldn't expect a barely six year old to care for a newborn while he worked. So after only having been a big brother for less than a day, I held my little sister for a short time before my father took her from my arms and handed her to the McGinty family who had lost their son only days before. I understood enough to know that the mother would be able to feed Maeve, and that this was what was best for her. But I still cried. I couldn't even bring myself to speak her name
.
After we had spent a few days going through the immigration inspections, we had to say goodbye to her one last time. I kissed her on the head and promised myself that someday I'd see her again.
Dadai started his job at the shipyard the next morning. We hadn't found a place to live yet. So I was forced to wait on the streets or in a restaurant while he worked. He didn't talk much, and he didn't seem to care about finding us a place to sleep. We spent most of our nights on the docks of our new home town. Brooklyn
.
Things didn't get much better over the next 2 months. The weather started getting colder. And as snow began to fall a few weeks before Christmas he told me that they had no more work for him till spring. That he would have to find new work.
I heard him cry almost every night as I drifted off to sleep. I knew I was not good company for him. He was often angry with me. Mostly because I had not spoken since Mamai had died. Even as we buried her in America I could not bring myself to say goodbye.
Three days before Christmas Dadai told me he was bringing me to a boy's home to stay until he could find a place for us. All I could do was stare at him as he led me along city streets to a building on the far side of the city. The sign said "Refuge", and there were metal bars on every opening. I was in a state of shock that he was leaving me behind. As he said goodbye to me I just stood there crying. He placed my mother's St. Christopher medal around my neck and handed me a small package wrapped in red paper. He hugged me one last time and turned to leave. As he walked out the door I whispered my first words in months. And my last for almost five years. "Ta gra agam ort, Dadai." (I love you Daddy.)