One day, my mother decided to send me shopping with my father. I was very excited. I loved spending time with my father. We crossed the busy road and entered the market, saying “hello” to my father’s barber, Ovadia, on the way. The shuk was full of people, fruit and vegetables. An tantalizing mixture of smells and the sound of vendors crying out their offers. We stopped at one of the stalls and did some shopping.
As I stood next to one of the stalls watching a man pour water over a huge wooden plank, I suddenly heard a loud explosion and flames filled my field of vision.
My own recollection of that moment has been augmented by accounts provided by others afterwards. My father, who was very frightened, forgot that I was with him, and ran to help the wounded. When he remembered that I had come with him to the market,...
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