‘The old times were poor times. That was when I was a child and we
lived in a small village far in the north of the country. Our house was
made of clay and its roof was covered with straw. Our beds were also
made of clay. We had fireplaces under the beds to keep us warm at night.
We used sticks for the fire and they were very precious as the
temperature at night would fall below -20 degrees Celsius. In order not
to freeze we had to keep the fire all night.
There were also four wells in our village. The water was very sweet
then. Never have I drunk water as tasty as the water in my village.
Nowadays, the water in my village is not sweet any more. It tastes
bitter. Maybe the source is drying up? Maybe the people are getting
rich?
Recently, the villagers have built houses that are made of brick and
tiles. The villagers have cars and telephones. The rats became very big
and the flies are very fat. The people are rich now.’
