“My mother, sister, brother, and I would like to leave the country, but there is no way out. Can you help us?”
Tehran, Iran 1978
ITwasn’t difficult for my brother, Yitzchok, to find the home of Ahmed*, the villager who had promised to help him in his hour of need.
Ahmed was more than just a simple villager. He was a smuggler who dealt in contraband.
Though the name of his profession wasn’t written across his forehead, Yitzchok intuited it during their conversation in Yitzchok’s shop three years earlier.
Dredging up the address that Ahmed had given him from the depths of his memory, Yitzchok arrived on the doorstep of Ahmed’s home. If Ahmed was surprised to see him, he didn’t show it.
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