The fear has reached you by contagion, because in truth you never suffered an interrogation, nor looked over the walls; you were never the victim of a purge nor did they throw an egg at your face. Maybe they never even called to tell you about it. Your sense of unease came to you from what you hear, by transference, through others who have reason for intimidation.
One day you packed your bags and crossed to the other side of the Atlantic, packing also the piece of fear that you wear. Your children were born far from this Island, but still you serve them their corresponding tablespoon of apprehension. They may not be able to speak Spanish, they may not be able to find the country where their father came from on a map, but they know how to find fear. The devastating epidemic of fear that is not cured has come to them.