DENICE BOURBON

between the weeds and the wheelbarrow

„Workers hands! Real workers hands!“ I suddenly got thrown back 35, 37, 38 years, kitchen table, deck of cards, cinnamon buns and my mother‘s long fingernails which were so hard and thick they seemed indestructible. Like … claws! Wow…. Claws again.. but in a different way.
“In our family, we all have real workers hands! Except for Anne, she has hands like royalty.”

…

Think Denice, think, what was it that you wanted to ask her? What was it that you wanted to know?
“So… mother left here when she was 13? 14?”
“16. She was 16. Had just finished school.”
Ha! I knew it! Strike one! She did finish school then after all! So the whole part about the lost and lonely uneducated little match-stick girl was bucket full of crap! I knew it!

…

Her hands also goes to the factory where they put little components on circuit boards that go into welding robots and those robots weld machines. It’s really hard to put the right components at the right places. But mom’s hands are so so fast, so very very fast. And she never makes mistakes. She keeps telling me this. That’s also why she got so angry when they changed from task wage to hourly wage. “I am the fastest, I make the most cards, I should be paid more than all those gossiping girls who are just standing around being lazy!!”
Henry Ford just wet himself in his grave out of excitement.
And Karl Marx is crying so hard I can hear him all the way from Highgate Cemetery.

…

Lea, Bodil, Synnöve and Pirjo. They all work in the factory. Which factory? Whichever factory is hiring. For example the brick factory. And in the brick factory everything is heavy and dangerous and the air is bad and there are no workers rights. It’s now. Not 1924. Their lungs are full of factory. Whichever factory. And smoking is the only thing that brings them joy.

© Denice Bourbon