I was all of five years old when my Mom took me to this school in the evening, holding my hand. In her other hand she held a metal trunk and a bedroll under her arm. The very tall church and buildings seemed to zoom into the sky as I scanned the surroundings. We were greeted by a priest who I later learnt was Brother Fonseca. Of course I had no idea what was going to happen. But as the Brother took hold of my hand, I hugged the small cake my Mom had given me.