My mom was a nurse,she had moved back home after my father had taken hissize twelve boots, and spanked me. He had locked the door, so my mother would beunable to stop him. I was only three. My mom was the second woman in our village toget a divorce, and unfortunately walking anywhere she would receive unpleasantcommentary. She was and still is my hero. Maybe that is why,the image of her runningdown the street towards the gate has stayed with me for so long. I don’t remember theweather I will never remember who pulled me away from the gate. I will howeverremember holding onto that gate as thoughmy life depended on it.