The next few years were difficult and didn't offer much of a childhood. Our 10-year old, second-hand car became 'home', a very cramped home at that.

The DM50 we were allowed to take out of the country were reserved exclusively for car-related expenses. There never was any money to buy food. As night fell, we would stop at a small farm and ask for help and food. Hunger was ever present.

Early on, I learned that it is usually the poor and working people who are willing to offer help.

I also knew of the basic decency of the people who came into and touched my life.

Already as a young child I had the gift of being able to learn languages, becoming fluent in Turkish, Arabic, English, French, Swahili and Spanish.

Due to having lived in camps in Africa and always being treated as a 'second-class citizen', I became very insecure, and felt inferior.

It was my husband Stanley, as well as raising our three children, that made me realize my own worth, - though that took years.

My father's death in 1980 and then my husband's in 1990, made me understand how fragile life can be. Their death plunged me into depth I hadn't dreamed existed, until I realized that I was mourning for myself. Life doesn't stop and one way or another we have to continue.

After living in Venezuela for 55 years, a new chapter of my life began in Miami, Florida. I was 75 years old. There is a second book that recently published, Let's Ask Grandma, as well as many other projects.