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Truth Without Fear
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I had confidence in my father. I also had the fear of God, knowing that nothing I did under his roof would go unnoticed.

One Sunday morning, everyone was getting ready for church; my father was a staunch Catholic, who made us all recite ‘Hail Mary’ by age 5. In fact by the time I joined nursery school at the same age, I had no idea why other children around me still had to learn how to speak. But that Sunday morning was a rare one, when instead of the usual tea and bread smothered with margarine, there was the welcome addition of boiled eggs. And the rule was one egg a person. Egg tasted better than bread by all means and I had a sweet tongue. So I thought to myself, why not hide one egg under the pillow and see if anyone would notice. And as everyone settled on the table for breakfast, my father looked at me in the eye and I cringed within, knowing he knew. I walked slowly to my bed, lifted the pillow and brought the egg to him, and asked him to help me peel the shell off. I knew he knew, even if he didn’t. That didn’t matter, what did was that in my mind, I knew he knew. And I grew into a proper adult.

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