If I were to improve my nutritional intake and realise my dream of

If I were to improve my nutritional intake and realise my dream of becoming the family’s provider of meat, the better option was rat.One of my co-workers – a camp veteran – was the first to introduce me to the dish. But she had resolved to make our little stock – the one buffer we had against extreme deprivation – last as long as possible, and would never cede to my pleas for more.More than 100 people died in our village every year – out of a population of two to three thousand The newly arriving prisoners were usually the first to die. By this time I was struggling with the problem of my own survival and had little energy left for grieving. What I was staring at was the final dissolution of my former life: a door that was closing.My first winter in the camp was very trying. I was always hungry and had problems digesting the little food I did get Our diet was so unvaried it started to make me sick. Grandmother noticed what was happening and, to break the monotony, sometimes cooked me some of our remaining rice.

As temperatures dropped throughout November, he continued to hold strong. Yet winter deepened and the temperature soon fell below freezing in our hut Despite all my care, he died. Seeing his lifeless body floating on the surface of the water filled me with great sadness Yet I wasn’t distraught. The guards could sit back and relax: the prisoners were forced to create a system of self-surveillance, which while perfectly effective at maintaining order, required little outside intervention.When we returned to our hut at night and sat around the little low table eating our corn, hardly anyone said a word. As soon as we had eaten, we hurried off to bed, knowing we’d need to recuperate all the strength we could.Still, before getting into bed, I would spend a few minutes hunched over my aquarium.

It seemed too large now for the few fish that still clung to life Eventually there was only one survivor. The policy had the effect of breeding animosity among the detainees and destroying any solidarity. When I came to I was surrounded by the kids in my work group, who were all furious with me.Like the adults, we worked in groups of five. In an instant, a black curtain descended before my eyes and I fell to the ground I was out for about an hour. The logs were terribly heavy, even with two of us carrying them, and the place where the trees were being felled was three or four kilometres from the village. To fill our daily quota, we had to finish 12 round trips each, which added up to about 40 kilometres, with a log on our shoulder half the way.

The work would have been exhausting for the heartiest of children; and for a city boy like me, it was simply impossible. I was dead on my feet by the third trip and had to ask the kid working with me to stop a minute so I could catch my breath He grudgingly agreed I sat down. That’s how I learned to plant rice, grow corn, and chop down trees. My first work assignment was on a team that assisted adults who were logging up in the mountains.