"I kept thinking whatever or whoever is trying to stop me from doing this is not going to win. I feel that this is too important—not saying that my kids aren't—but I am doing it for them as well as myself. "

I'm on my way to Marks, MS, in the van with Joanna, Jen, Clent, Muhammad, Rahim, Lisa, and Tim. We have been driving for like two hours, and already I got a phone call from my son that detectives were at my door, banging on the window, threatening to call DHS (Department of Human Services). I was started crying, not because I was scared but because I was angry. A few miles down the road, we got a phone call saying that Nina is stuck by the side of the road in Pottstown. Something went wrong with the truck—the flatbed—a pipe busted or something, so now we have to figure out a way to get Nina and Katie help. Fortunately, Anne was available ... she drove to Pottstown to meet then and find a way to get them to Mississippi. Right now we're on 81 south with 376 miles to go on it.

...

We stopped at a gas station, and the attendent came out and started looking at us, trying to look in the van ... he was scared about something, we didn't know what. Come to find out, there was a group going around in a van that looked like ours robbing service stations along the highway. The guy turns around, goes into the station and calls the cops. They were there within seconds. I showed them ID and a flyer for the march, and they checked it out and left. I was relieved, thinking what next...

"I couldn't believe I was standing in front of the place where MLK had gotten killed. I thought to myself: I will never forget this. It looks exactly the same as back then. After that, I started looking around the area ... my heart was broken. It's so poor."

We got to Memphis, and a group of our people were already there. I felt so good when I saw them because of the familiar faces. I got out looking for Galen ... I couldn't wait to thank him because he was the person that my son called when the detective knocked on my back door and he handled it so beautifully. I'm grateful. I kept thinking whatever or whoever is trying to stop me from doing this is not going to win. I feel that this is too important—not saying that my kids aren't—but I am doing it for them as well as myself. Well, getting back to Memphis—when I saw the Lorraine Hotel, just the sign alone gave me the goose bumps. As I was walking toward the hotel where MLK was killed, I got a burst of emotions that I can't explain. I walked to the door of room #306 [corrected], read the inscription on the plaque in front of the room, and I couldn't help but to cry. I couldn't believe I was standing in front of the place where MLK had gotten killed. I thought to myself: I will never forget this. It looks exactly the same as back then. After that, I started looking around the area ... my heart was broken. It's so poor.

We arrived in Marks at the park where a group of wonderful people welcomed us with open arms. I felt special. I met a wonderful lady by the name of Betty Crawford. She has a museum—the mule train museum, about King's poor people's march. She had this beautiful quilt with all the states they went to on the original march. We went to a church afterward where they where they had made us a wonderful dinner, which Rev. Gene Price had arranged (it was especially wonderful because I was starving). Thank you Lord for this meal and these people who prepared it—I was hungry.

After that, we crossed the street to the place where we are staying—a school cafeteria. We all met at 6:00, and we had a guest: Mr. and Mrs. Crawford, and Mrs. Crawford's cousin, a lady by the name of Bertha. I couldn't wait to hear her story—I was excited and choked up at the same time. I didn't know whether to cry or laugh so all I did was smile, and cry tears of joy. This lady was one of the original ladies of the Mule Train back in 1968. She was a single mother with six kids, and they all went with her. I looked at her and my heart was filled with so much joy. I will never forget this day, I kept saying to myself. Her story was so real. I was so happy that she lived to tell about it. You know, the struggle is the same as it was back then. Poverty is poverty, whether it's here, there, this year, next year, or 35 years ago.

I look forward to tomorrow as we start our march to Batesville.

OK: It's 8:30 in the morning, and we're doing our stretch exercises so we can begin our long journey to DC. Right now I'm feeling like: damn, the day I've been waiting on. I felt so good and excited and of course I cried. It's our time to shine, and be heard. We are strong, smart, and resourceful poor people, fighting to make a difference.

"My feet are starting to hurt and my knee is starting to swell, but I keep thinking about my kids, and everybody else's kids and it makes it all worth it."

Now we're stopping to have our lunch, and I'm looking around and feeling so proud of this group of people that I am with. My feet are starting to hurt and my knee is starting to swell, but I keep thinking about my kids, and everybody else's kids and it makes it all worth it.

We are finished marching and setting up our tent city. We're on the side of the road—nice, isn't it? Night falls and everybody is getting ready for bed, so we make a circle, sing songs and say a prayer. It reminds me of a strong, loving family (something that some of us don't have outside of KWRU). We fought with mosquitos all night, and if anybody's been to Mississippi, they know what I'm talking about ... if you haven't, THEY ARE FIERCE. Everybody made it through the night alive, thank God, but just barely.

In the morning we had a discussion about the night we'd just had. Everybody basically agreed that we weren't going to let some little (but fierce!) mosquitos scare us into giving up.

"... tomorrow is another day closer to Washington. As for me, I miss my kids so much. I think I'm actually homesick. I cry every second I can get, but I think about why I'm doing it and it puts a blanket on my heart and eases the pain."

Well, it's the 5th day into the march and we're in Nashville, Tennesee. Who would have thought, Maria in Nash—NOT ME! I'm excited ... we had a nice warm southern welcome from the people here. They have given us food, provided showers, and joined us in our march.

It feels good when people see us and want to know why we're marching. One of the questions we get asked a lot: "how do you pay for all this?" The truth is that we don't have any money, so we try to get donations from town to town. Yesterday we were really low on gas. All of our vans and our truck were low on fuel. I was driving and praying that we wouldn't run out of gas on the way to taking our kids swimming while the rest of us marched (that day it was too hot for them to be out there).

It's rough because people need things like medical supplies, cigs, socks, soap, and other things but there's no money. We try to get donations from different places, wherever we go ... like we say, it's time to pass the hat around.

I'm tired and sleepy, and feeling sad and depressed. I know I'm not the only one, either. I look around at the faces of my KWRU family and I see the stress and sadness and their own personal problems taking a toll on them physically and emotionally. They are strong, though, and tomorrow is another day closer to Washington. As for me, I miss my kids so much. I think I'm actually homesick. I cry every second I can get, but I think about why I'm doing it and it puts a blanket on my heart and eases the pain.

I got up this morning around 10:20am (and was feeling pretty good, I might add). We're leaving around 12:00 noon on our way to Luisville. Yesterday was a hard, long day for all of us. I was up at 6:00 in the morning and went to bed around 1:30 in the morning.

This morning we had our first meeting around noon. We talked about different responsibilities that people have, and following through with them. I think it was helpfull and very much needed. It cut down a lot of the tension and arguing over little stuff. Today people are smiling a little more than yesterday and it feels good. We're packing our things to head out. Louisville, here we come, stronger than ever.

"Kensington Welfare Rights Union is not just a group of people from Philadelphia, its from all parts of this country. It's people that beleive that there's a problem of poverty in the RICHEST COUNTRY in the world, and that the Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign and March give people a chance to speak and be visible without being afraid.

Now I'm in a van with seven people form different parts of this country. Corrina is a student from California. She came down to Philly on her spring break and decided that she wanted to lend a hand with this movement to end poverty.

Raheem is a gentleman from New Jersey. He is a member of the New Jerusalem drug recovery program. He came on this march because he wanted to learn more about the Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign.

George is from Baltimore. He is also a member of New Jerusalem's recovery program.

Joanna is a student from Maryland. She saw one of our documentary tapes called "Battle for Broad" and she was hooked. She's trying to get residence here in Philly. She wants to stay with us.

Then there is Muhammud. Muhammud is also from Philly. He's in New Jerusalem's recovery program. He is on this march to promote human rights.

Also, there's Lisa. Lisa is a homeless mother with three kids (two boys and a girl). She's been on this march fighting for basic human rights; housing; healthcare; and a living wage.

So you see, Kensington Welfare Rights Union is not just a group of people from Philadelphia, its from all parts of this country. It's people that believe that there's a problem of poverty in the RICHEST COUNTRY in the world, and that the Poor People's Economic Human Rights Campaign and March give people a chance to speak and be visible without being afraid. Poverty is poverty.

I did a lot of the things I like to do with KWRU today, and one of those things is going to different neighborhoods and talking to people personally. Today we all broke down into groups and everybody took different parts of the neighborhood to do documentation. I took the America Apt., but I didn't do so well. People weren't willing to talk, for reasons that I can't say ... but I can say they were afraid—most of the people in the area were foreigners. So we all decided to go to a housing project close by. It took a little while for the people there to warm up to us, but after talking and explaining why we were there, they felt more comfortable.

People usually think the poverty and housing projects are a black thing, but it really isn't—it's a poor people thing. I say that because when I went to this housing project, there were poor blacks, poor whites, and poor latinos, all living next door to each other. So you see, poverty is not a poor black thing, or a poor white thing, or a poor latino thing; it's simply a poor people thing. Like I said before, Poverty is Poverty.

Oh God, what a long day. I'm sleepy and tired. Just came from taking a shower over at Mrs. Edna's house. She lives in Clincho and was nice enough to let us use her shower.

Well, I don't know what to say about today other than it was terrible. We leave from Knoxville at about 8:30 to get gas, we get on the road around 9:00 to begin our journey to Clincho. Everybody's chillin'. We're listening to different CD's and singing different songs. Of course I was the DJ, so I was taking requests - but anyway, we were chillin'. We got on the highway, made it to 23N, looking for 83N. Well, if anybody knows anything about Route 83, you know it doesn't go north, it goes east and west! Now we're lost!

We stopped and asked for directions, but still couldn't find it. We were in the mountains; we across the mountain and when we got to the other side, we find it was the wrong way. So we went down the road some more and asked for directions again - same thing, "go down this road here and when you come to a bridge on the left you go across the bridge and across the mountain." We heard that about 10 million times. It wasn't funny anymore. I mean, these roads were small, two lanes up & down, really narrow and so high up in the mountains that if you looked to the side and you're scared of heights, like Laisha and myself, you would get a little dizzy.

Now my stomach is hurting and I'm getting a little car sick, but I was maintaining calm. It worked, I didn't vomit!

We got to Grundy, people weren't very helpful to us there, so we went further down the road and stopped at this flower shop. The man there was an angel from God that was put there just for us. I got out and went in, and started explaining that we were lost for 7-8 hours, with cell phones dead, no gas and no money. I started crying. He told me not to cry and calm down, that everything was going to be allright. He gave me money for gas and drew a map. We were on our way again.

When we finally got there, everybody was waiting. I felt so good because they started running towards the van, hoopin' & hollering, clapping and whistling. I got really big hugs and started crying again, I felt good.

Well, later on that night I came out of the van after falling asleep because I was hungry. I am glad that I did because some people were still awake and we started talking; talking led to joking and joking led to laughing. I started messing with people in the tent and then everybody was laughing.

Today, we had a nice march around Clinchco, and from what I can tell, everybody was happy we were here. They come out of their homes and wave, with smiles on their faces. When I see that it makes it all worth it.

I'm really excited about today. We're going to Atlanta to visit the Martin Luther King Jr. Center. I can't wait to get there. I want to see where he is buried and the eternal flame.

Just getting back on the road on our way to Knoxville. Thinking about my visit at the MLK center. I was happy because I got to experience it, but I felt a little dissapointed and a little cheated.

Maybe I should explain: I'm not an expert and I don't know a lot about the history, I'm just learning, but one thing I do know is that the last year before his death he was really committed to the Poor People's Campaign - and not too much was said about it.

Well, I'm going to leave, close this with one of my favorite quotes from MLK, which is "Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."