About two days before Yom Kippur, the holiest of holy days, the shohet, the ritual slaughterer, arrived, going from house to house killing everyone’s chickens for the pre-Kippur dinner. The chickens were all over the place, running around and clucking ever louder as if they knew what was about to happen to them. For each member of the family there was a white bird: a rooster for every male and a hen for every female. (A pregnant woman merited two hens and a rooster.) Violette writes: ‘For the ritual, he then passed it to my father who held the chicken by the legs. For each one of us, Baba chose the appropriate bird. He circled my hen around my head seven times, reciting a small blessing signifying that, if I had been meant to die in the coming year, let the chicken die in my place, and let me continue to live a good life. After this prayer, the chicken could no longer go free. It was passed from hand to hand, back to the shohet waiting downstairs in the kitchen.’