I must have been around seven or eight years old. We were really short on food, with hardly anything to eat, so I used to fill up on cornmeal and collared greens soup. We ate a lot of persimmons, since we had a tree in the backyard. My job was to take care of a young boy, who was larger than me, while his parents were out working.
The father made coconut candy, which I got to taste for the first time only because I scraped the bits off the marble stone that I had to clean. I thought it was strange to take care of such a big boy, but now I realize that he was only bigger and better fed than me, but not older. That was where I first saw a real bed, a toilet, a faucet, and other things that were common in any home. After I finished cleaning, I could only stay in the kitchen or in the covered backyard that had an outhouse attached, which was what I used.
What color was this family? White, of course. Thinking I was just a regular child, I found out in that house that I was a poor child and thought that I was treated differently for this reason.
Around the time of my first communion, we received a visit from a woman that my mother worked for, washing and ironing her clothes. She came with her daughter, who was around 13, and brought a big package in her arms.
Our living room had hardly any furniture; there was a wooden cot with a handmade grass mattress, covered with a simple cloth that we used as a blanket.
