A Desperate Decision - Our Escape to Freedom

This book tells of my family's Escape from Hitler Germany in a second-hand, 10 year old Chevrolet convertible. It was more than crowded with six of us, - and yet we often slept in it too. There were my parents and us four children ranging in age from 7 to 15.
My father was an intellectual, a writer and artist. He had two left thumbs as far as anything mechanical goes. He did not know how to drive when he bought the car. And yet he drove us through Lithuania, Latvia, Poland, Romania, Bulgaria, and Turkey without mishap, though there were many times he was frustrated when the car broke down and he had to struggle to fix it. - Until it was taken away from us because we could not pay the taxes in Turkey, the car had been home, - to sleep in, have meals (when available), etc.
The DM50 we were allowed to take out of Germany (money jealously guarded for maintenance of the old car) was soon depleted. Many was the time we endured hunger. From the time we left in 1937 until we reached Venezuela in December 1948, there were trials, difficulties, and crises.
Most of the time we depended on local peasants to help us out, be it to share a meal or allow us to spend the night in their barn.

We were living in Beirut, Lebanon when the war broke out. The British interned us and sent us to different internment camps in Africa, - one worse than the next: communal barracks built of tar paper, rampant malaria and food unfit for humans, - least of all for us vegetarians. We spent seven years in Africa, from 1941 - 1948.
After the war the British did not know what to do with us. My father refused to be repatriated to Germany. There were two countries with open door policies for people like us. Australia and Venezuela. For a number of reasons the family chose the latter.
But in spite of all, I realize how lucky we were during those years in Africa - especially us kids. We were interned with people of different nationalities, ages and sexual orientation. How easily we could have come to harm. But it made me realize that human decency does exist.
The oldest of us four kids was my half-sister, my mother's daughter from a previous marriage. Unfortunately for my parents' marital stability, my father fell in love with her, though they did not have sexual relations until 1942, when she was 21. They had two children while interned in Africa. And, of course, they became part of this integrated family, loved by all alike.
Once settled in Venezuela, my parents were able to get divorced, and my father married my half-sister. - During all those years we lived 'under one roof' you might say. It was not an easy situation, especially for my mother.
But in spite of all the difficulties and problems described, there was joy, love, and happiness.