Shoshana Walter/The Bay Citizen

Campbell Village, a public housing complex in West Oakland

In her house, Sherry Sims has one unbendable rule: “Beat the street lights,” she says. “You gotta get home before they come on.”

Sims, a mother of two, has lived in Campbell Village, a public housing complex in West Oakland, for almost 10 years. Like many parents concerned about violence in the neighborhood, Sims tries to stay indoors and issues strict orders to her 12-year-old son: Curfew is at 5 p.m.

“I need to know where my kid is when the sun goes down,” she said.

One month after the fatal shooting of a 1-year-old outside a liquor store one block from the complex, the grand reopening Monday of the newly remodeled Campbell Village Recreation Center was bittersweet. A boisterous group of children tinkered on brand-new computers, watched television and played basketball, as mothers and grandmothers chatted on new plush green sofas. Mayor Jean Quan visited for 10 minutes to pose for pictures and shake hands.

But as nightfall neared, parents said they were worried about the dangers after dark.

Investigators expected the death of the toddler, Hiram Lawrence, to prompt a battle between two warring Oakland gangs. But since Hiram's death two weeks ago, residents said the neighborhood has been relatively quiet. On Monday, parents said they were glad the recreation center was open again, but they had realistic expectations. They don’t expect the peace to last.

The complex is located in a neighborhood where violence is a regular occurrence. That section of West Oakland, known as the Lower Bottoms, saw 26 homicides last year, more than in any other part of the city.

The former Campbell Village Teen Center shut down about six months ago following budget cuts to the city’s Parks and Recreation department. The new center, run by the Oakland Housing Authority with one paid staff member, is one of the few places for community members to gather in the neighborhood. The agency plans to offer computer classes and other activities in the new year with the help of volunteers and local nonprofit organizations.

“It’s good, I guess,” Sims shrugged, at the reopening, while her son flitted happily from room to room.

Sims’ quiet manner belies her tough rules. The mother of two speaks softly, sometimes shrugging her shoulders and hiding her face behind locks of long, straight hair or picking at her fingernails.

She rises every morning at 4:30 a.m., cooks her son a hot breakfast and wakes him up before she leaves for her warehouse job. When she returns, he comes home from his after-school program and does homework or plays basketball until 5 p.m. Dinnertime is at 6:30 p.m., no exceptions.

“I don’t let him go far from the house. When I leave, he leaves,” she said. “I got control over him.”

After the father of her first child went to prison for dealing drugs, Sims said she became homeless for five years, jumping from shelter to shelter with her sons while she waited for an opening in a public housing complex. When a space became available, she took it.

Now, because of her fears of violence, she spends most of her time indoors. For the first few years, she and her children, who are now 22 and 12 years old, almost never left house. When her older son was 10 years old, Sims enrolled him in “Scared Straight,” the program at San Quentin prison designed to give kids and teenagers a taste of what to expect if they enter the criminal justice system. Now, her 22-year-old is enrolled in community college and works as a security guard. Her 12-year-old goes to a private middle school down the street.

Despite her rules and precautions, Sims knows she must still keep an eye on her son.

“You can mess up and lose your life at a young age here,” she said. “You got to be careful.”