I Was Trafficked

No, this is not a mistake. I was sold and bought like a piece of merchandise. For $500. Really. My husband's list price was $3,000. The seller wanted 10,000, the buyer offered 2,000. The negotiations ended at the final price of 3,000.

In a shameful chapter of its history, Romania sold its own citizens. They sold Jews to Israel for petrol pumps, Danish piglets and cash.

Together with a cinema hall full of fellow trafficked compatriots, I watched Radu Garbrea's documentary, Jews for Sale, and saw how our own immigration story (which I may blog about one day) was part of the bigger political and economic picture of the time. 

Neurologist Dr Ashkenazi from Bucharest tells his own story in the movie. When he is finally on the plane to Israel, his brain tricks him into feeling like the plane is flying back. I had a similar moment in 1984 when I boarded a train way before it was supposed to leave the station, and refused to step on the platform again, fearing I would be left behind forever. I'm sure many immigrants had variations of this moment.