My mother sent me this cook book with some friends who left the country seeking a better life elsewhere. They told me that my mother had begged them to bring me this book. We said to her “ We’re not sure we can do it, but we will try – because we have no idea where we will end up”. But these friends carried this present for me, in spite of the difficulty of their journey. When I received the book, I realized that my mother still thought of me as a child or a young girl, when I used to hover around her while she cooked in the kitchen. I would ask her about her delicious cooking. “How did you make this? And what did you add to the rice to make it taste so good?” Lots of questions like that. I still don’t know the secret of my mother’s cooking despite having this cookery book.