How many times must we suffer?

On Wednesday of this week, another “policeman” harassed us again.  It was at a public park.  We (my mom and I) were sitting on a blanket, with a few pieces of clothing hanging on the nearby trees.  The park was nearly empty.  This bozo approached us and accused us of “camping.”  Where was the tent?  We were only sitting there.  He said that just hanging our clothes to dry on the tree branches counts as camping.  He threatened to kick us out of the park, and he told my mom that he’d arrest her for refusing to show him her ID.  First of all, you are not obligated to talk to a police officer or show him/her any identification unless he/she has tangible proof that you’ve committed a crime.   So says the California law book.  Second of all, we were NOT camping.  This moron singled us out from everyone else and he again said that someone else called him and said that we doing “this” every day.  That is utter nonsense.  And where was this “witness,” I would like to know?  Aha.  The coward was absent.  So the “police officer” should have gone back to hell or wherever he came from, and left us alone.  Why is the damn Fresno and Clovis Police Departments picking on us when there are other people who come to the park and vandalize it?  We saw it.  The “police” care less.  Anyway, we had to comply with his “demands,” meaning that I went and took down the clothes from the trees.  We didn’t leave the park; we sat there glaring at him.  He left sooner or later, but every time something illegal like this happens, it leaves an imprint on my memory.  My heart rate reaches 120 and adrenaline rushes into my system.  Every time I become more afraid, more weak.  What is this world, really?  A dictatorship?  An insane asylum?  Survival of the fittest?  Is life a game where the winners kill the losers?  After I ponder that question, I wish that I were never born, or at least that I was far, far away from here (Fresno).  And after that…I cry.  A lot. 😦

Natalie Gorna