A Basketful Of Figs, cont'd. (Part IV)
Jun. 23rd, 2009 11:20 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jolantruAsh,
I got your message. I am seeing a lot of missing words. Even our words have become suspect. You do know me and my thing about words. [ERROR] Words have power. They want to take that away from us. [ERROR]
I want this war to go away. Perjuangan nyah!
Infuriated and Sad,
Cass [CHECK RECIPIENT/LOCATION]
~*~
I am not going to take sides. The whole thing has devolved into a war of words and weapons, a sort of “He says” and “She says”, except it is only on a more global (and dangerous) scale, because other nations and countries have been dragged into this… confrontation. I wish I have clear spring water with me so that I can cleanse my palate. The words… hurt.
I am seeing more refugees now. The bombing has become more severe. They are building a camp around my family house. Now my family, my clan, is inevitably and irrevocably involved.
Benjamin begins to look more haggard. Harried. His brilliant aquamarine eyes are dull, listless. I hear snatches of voices – angry, panicking, desperate - coming from the communications equipment. The words sting like sharp electric shocks in my mouth. I feel sorry for him. He tells me that he wants the war to end too.
Summer Solstice arrives, subdued and uncelebrated. The heat is unforgiving, relentless. The fig tree does not resound with laughter and warm conversation. Instead I see desolation. We are now seeing more wounded people and their injuries add a sour and painful tone to the atmosphere. The army medics work together with Fourth Aunt who is a trained nurse, seeing to the patients and performing triage on new arrivals.
Yet I am not going to give up. While the camp swirls around me, pain/agony/loneliness a persistent undercurrent throbbing in the air, I pick a wicker basket from the kitchen and stroll, quite casually, to the fig tree. While people watch, including Mother, Father and the rest of my family, I begin to harvest the ripe figs. Benjamin soon joins me. Then Mother and Father. My sisters hesitate at first before tentatively reaching up and plucking the figs off the branches. Some of the refugees pitch in as well, climbing onto ladders to reach the ones at the top. They smile happily as they harvest the figs.
The basket fills quickly. I stand back and look at the figs, unable to say anything. Someone – Benjamin? – drapes a warm arm around my shoulder and tears roll from my eyes. Salty water curving down my cheeks, curling off my jaw-line. I have a feeling that the harvest would be the last. The floodgates open and I sob. Susah hati. My heart splits open and spills forth its blood.
That night I find myself in the arms of Benjamin. We make tender love, two lonely souls in the midst of war trying to seek comfort.
~*~
[FROM UNDISCLOSED LOCATION: DDTHXBW]
Cass,
If you are reading this by now, my family house is already damaged and we are fleeing on foot. Looters have smashed all the fleeter-cars. The roads are jammed with people. I am writing this on my DISK. Hooray for hand-held comps and personal self-will/tenacity!
I love you, Cass. May we meet at the end of the journey. [ERROR]
Berani mati,
Ash
[STATIC – SEARCH FOR USER/SENDER]
If you like it, it's only 1.00 SGD.
***
Part I: here.
Part II: here.
Part III: here.
Glossary and Translation:
Perjuangan nyah: Go away war!
Berani mati: Not afraid of death.
Dua sejoli tidak menyanyi: Lovebirds will never sing.
Ikatan keluarga: Family ties.
Susah hati: Uneasy/pained.
I got your message. I am seeing a lot of missing words. Even our words have become suspect. You do know me and my thing about words. [ERROR] Words have power. They want to take that away from us. [ERROR]
I want this war to go away. Perjuangan nyah!
Infuriated and Sad,
Cass [CHECK RECIPIENT/LOCATION]
~*~
I am not going to take sides. The whole thing has devolved into a war of words and weapons, a sort of “He says” and “She says”, except it is only on a more global (and dangerous) scale, because other nations and countries have been dragged into this… confrontation. I wish I have clear spring water with me so that I can cleanse my palate. The words… hurt.
I am seeing more refugees now. The bombing has become more severe. They are building a camp around my family house. Now my family, my clan, is inevitably and irrevocably involved.
Benjamin begins to look more haggard. Harried. His brilliant aquamarine eyes are dull, listless. I hear snatches of voices – angry, panicking, desperate - coming from the communications equipment. The words sting like sharp electric shocks in my mouth. I feel sorry for him. He tells me that he wants the war to end too.
Summer Solstice arrives, subdued and uncelebrated. The heat is unforgiving, relentless. The fig tree does not resound with laughter and warm conversation. Instead I see desolation. We are now seeing more wounded people and their injuries add a sour and painful tone to the atmosphere. The army medics work together with Fourth Aunt who is a trained nurse, seeing to the patients and performing triage on new arrivals.
Yet I am not going to give up. While the camp swirls around me, pain/agony/loneliness a persistent undercurrent throbbing in the air, I pick a wicker basket from the kitchen and stroll, quite casually, to the fig tree. While people watch, including Mother, Father and the rest of my family, I begin to harvest the ripe figs. Benjamin soon joins me. Then Mother and Father. My sisters hesitate at first before tentatively reaching up and plucking the figs off the branches. Some of the refugees pitch in as well, climbing onto ladders to reach the ones at the top. They smile happily as they harvest the figs.
The basket fills quickly. I stand back and look at the figs, unable to say anything. Someone – Benjamin? – drapes a warm arm around my shoulder and tears roll from my eyes. Salty water curving down my cheeks, curling off my jaw-line. I have a feeling that the harvest would be the last. The floodgates open and I sob. Susah hati. My heart splits open and spills forth its blood.
That night I find myself in the arms of Benjamin. We make tender love, two lonely souls in the midst of war trying to seek comfort.
~*~
[FROM UNDISCLOSED LOCATION: DDTHXBW]
Cass,
If you are reading this by now, my family house is already damaged and we are fleeing on foot. Looters have smashed all the fleeter-cars. The roads are jammed with people. I am writing this on my DISK. Hooray for hand-held comps and personal self-will/tenacity!
I love you, Cass. May we meet at the end of the journey. [ERROR]
Berani mati,
Ash
[STATIC – SEARCH FOR USER/SENDER]
If you like it, it's only 1.00 SGD.
***
Part I: here.
Part II: here.
Part III: here.
Glossary and Translation:
Perjuangan nyah: Go away war!
Berani mati: Not afraid of death.
Dua sejoli tidak menyanyi: Lovebirds will never sing.
Ikatan keluarga: Family ties.
Susah hati: Uneasy/pained.
