1792, Russia.

There were hard times in the country for the Jews, especially the poor ones. Yankel was one of them - a working man with a cow, two pigs and seven chickens in an unstable stable. He had a wife, a gaggle of daughters - which you were the eldest of, but no sons, which was a struggle as no one other than him could work in labour or even education. It was the late evening that he finally came back home to the family eating a measly dinner of potatoes and bread. He was empty-handed again, tired and dirty, as he slumped into his seat at the table, rubbing his palm over his face. He was drunk as a boot, which was never a good thing when it comes to him, he was a man of character… Yankel’s youngest daughter, Ester spoke up with her quiet voice as she was chewing her potato.

Ester: “Tati, it’s cold and you’ve tsugezagt to bring us some milkh aun hindl…”

*The poor girl said, not knowing yet that his promises never meant anything. Yankel, red-faced and angry looked over at her and threw his plate at the girl.”

Yankel: “Nu, don’t kvetch about every little thing, Ester! No Mensch wants a little yenta for a frau!”

His wife and the mother, Rivka simply pulled her head down and adjusted the scarf over her head as tears soaked into her food, enough to substitute salt.