My father died when I was very young. I grew up with my mother and two sisters.
Life was hard. My mother tried hard to feed us and send us to school. As she was not very educated, she could not get herself a good job. She started running a small business with my father's pension money. She sold anything that could bring in money. Her business largely bordered on speculation. Whenever she heard that something was selling hot in one part of the country, she could go there. Often, her gambles paid.
In 2001, my mother heard that a severe famine had hit a certain corner of the country. Any foodstuff was, therefore, hot business there.
My mother did not hesitate. She quickly solicited fifty bags of rice and prepared to go. However, her business colleagues warned her that they had heard rumours that it was not advisable for a woman to go there alone. She needed to have someone, mostly a man, to accompany her. The hungry people there would sometimes resort to robbing the food sellers. For this reason, she asked me to escort her.
After several hours of travelling, we reached our destination.
"Mike," my mother said as we entered a small hotel, "I don't have enough money. "There is only enough for one room."
