It was the end of year and there was midnight Mass on Dec. 31. The Mass, meant to usher the congregation into the new year, was exciting and full of joy.
The fraternity was cordial as we all hugged and shook hands. It was not difficult to smile and exchange pleasantries. We were soon to start the reality of American living, and our thoughts would quickly wander past the new year.
I was not too happy when I realized the enormous task ahead of me.
I only had a seasonal job, and my wife expected more from me, at least a better job.
And we received word that our family homes in Africa had all been burnt down, about four houses. My grandmother’s house was my entire responsibility. That is where I grew up. My two uncles survived and had nowhere to live, though they managed.
They may have been told that I had survived President Jammeh’s countless challenges and was now in the United States. Our first three months were challenging.
Augustine’s last chapter: First Noel in Worcester Or scroll down to catch up from earlier in the remarkable tale
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