Behind the house is a ketapang tree. Underneath there is a
boat overturned-your father's boat. My back felt cramped,
lately I feel tired quickly. We'll sit here. Wait
sun, morning and others.
From here we can see the house, the village. headland, beach and Iangit
at once. Look at our house: wooden houses on stilts, on the roof there are shoots
pink peeling tree. Still long he was fruitful,
but I really want to taste just one. Our house, has been three years
more I live in it. The villagers help your father
build it first. No pay-except for three workers
building. Enough with coffee two clips and clove cigarettes are dieclarkan
in a glass in the afternoon. Sometimes added with boiled yam or banana
fried. Much has been built up in this village:
school, house, place of ibaclah, village hall to boat. I remember
cooking yellow rice during the day. In the evening there was a light
new teplok in new house. I clan your daddy preoccupied watching the shadows-
shifting motion jolted along the wooden wall. Not
only me and your dancing dad, also desk chairs and cabinets.
The boat is damp. Also the ketapang bar
kusandari. Are you leaning comfortably on the wall of my uterus?
My child. my pocket. How circumstances change you from the hope of hope
became the focus of anxiety. What is going on inside
your mind right now? Is it like me? Or do you pass all this
without memory, hope, burden, obstruction? I can not look at the ground anymore
under my feet, blocked by you. But I do not mind carrying
your bra, even though you fill my body almost full-I'm swollen
like a cow.
I remember a cow on the motor boat deck, a long time ago. He fell
with his legs tied, his eyes widened in the direction of Iangit. thrashing.
The vessel will be turned upside down, the shack rattled by the lunge
cow making, not by wave. I'm holding your father's arm strong-
strong, he smiled soothingly, "Look," he said with a finger pointing to
side of the ship. There were two gray dolphins swimming
accompanying the ship. The little boys inside the ship cheered pointing-
point, "Oi, laluba, laluba!" Their backs are curled in tinibules