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One day, we weren’t able to get bread, neither by standing in line or from the black market. Standing off in one corner, my grandfather and father were smoking one cigarette after another. I, my sister and brother, sitting beneath an oil lamp made out that we were doing our studies. None of us were able to sleep due to hunger. Periodically, my mother would deeply sigh and cast a guilty gaze towards us. That day, for the first time, I heard my grandfather utter the words, “I am hungry”. No one responded to his demand. Night fell. None one thought about sleep. In that nocturnal silence, the voice of my taciturn grandfather was heard. “My son, let’s leave this country. Let’s cross the border. Let’s save these children.”
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