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Whenever the hot summer wind blow across the
country side I would hear the trees whispering and the birds
singing which would remind any individual of the cold winter
months when the wind constantly whip across the bare
branches.
As a little girl mother had always promise that the two of
us will be able to live in a country with golden soil and
wealth. The days when we'll be living in luxury, poverty
would be like another world.
Promises like these she makes everyday but no
one can ever presume when any of these would come true even
mother, but she is very determined to hold onto her hopes.
Father was never with the family ever since
my birth. He decided that "family responsibilities were too
much for him" was what mother says if anyone dares to ask.
And as each day goes by her words become
more vivid like a dream. A dream that you want to shout so
loud for help but no words escape from the mouth, or when
one wants to run as fast as they can from their opponent
but the feet just wouldn't move.
Growing into my primary years each day when
the sun goes down mother would sit me on her lap. While
playing with my curls and gently brushing it, repeating the
wonderful promises that she continues to make.
As dawn approaches the following day, in the next room
mother can be heard shuffling as though she is organising or
packing. The thought of it seems impossible. Mother can't be
packing at this early hour in the morning, she never mention
anything about moving houses. Even if we are moving there
is no other place for us to move to because living in the
country side means that you're required to live there for
there rest of your lives starting from the day that you
inherited that sacred land from your ancestors.
This day that started so early in the morning
no one can ever forget if they were to be in this particular
position. Mother in one hand carrying the suit case
staggering into my room tugging at my feet gently as an
indication it was time to get up like what she would do all
other ordinary day.
Through the thick forest mother pulled my
hand, she lead the way walking in first extremely quick pace
would later turned into running.
As mother quicken her pace she would tighten
her grip around my wrist but apologise the moment she
realise what she'd done.
The wolves can be heard yowling at the moon,
every small noise or movement of the forest creatures can
be make out even the trees seems as though it has a life of
its own.
Running for only minutes but what seems like
hours until we were confronted by deep blue sea leading into
the distant displaying massive scales in comparison to our
tiny bodies.
At this moment mother looked so old and
vulnerable, only such moment can age her years.
Half a mile down the coast indistinguishable
there was what looked like a fishing boat. The kind you
would see leaving the port early each morning but don't
return to late that day though some people are unfortunate
enough not to return at all.
Approaching the boat mother paid a heavily
build man with tanned skin a large sum of money that she
had work so hard for so long to earn.
Then we were hurried to move under the boat near the engine
room filled with hot and stale air.
There are small children and old grandmas all
cramped up in one corner, their faces looking very sick and
pale like they've never been exposed to sunlight for
sometime.
There are food scraps covering the floor of
the boat, empty cans of food left lying covered in mould
similar to everything including the refugees who are just
waiting to disintegrate.
By the third day of the trip until now no one
has any idea what the future has in store for him or her, or
would the sea swallow everything and everyone in a big gulp
before tomorrow light.
Mother looked very sad due to the condition
that surrounds everybody and most of the time kept silence
but in her secret and put-away heart there are thousands of
words that want to escape.
Towards the second week everyone on the boat
had ran out of food and becoming very desperate, grabbing
hold of anything that is edible.
Most of the time people would fight over breadcrumbs or dead
mice.
Fourteen days had gone by and now there are people dying
that have to be thrown over board, this was the biggest
problem as many frantic survivor are willing to consume
human flesh.
Mother tears meat from a three years old girl
who died because of starvation and handed everyone a small
piece.
Ah.. ah... ah... Ah...ahhhhh not eating it. No one should
eat it. This is cruel this is very cruel.
Wake up honey. Oh you poor thing, look at you
all sweaty and breathing so heavily. Must have had some
bad dreams she says as her thin old arms hugged me, but they
feel to be no strength.
Dark clouds hid the moon outside the bedroom
window; this is the same moon that rode over the gold coast
or the
Great Australian Bight.
Sleeping for only hours after school but the
sun has already gone down and rain had started falling
lightly upon the garden beds.
After mother left the room thousands of
thought rushes to mind. No mother that was not only a bad
dream that was a nightmare.
Dreams should be beautiful and special. But
to dream means asking for too much where in the end a person
is rewarded with nothing, only disappointment.
For years now my dreams were to have a family like those
teenagers that is seen on the street walking with their
mother and father on each hand talking cheerfully.
Lying in the dark at night in a little
fantasy world my mind is let loose into dreaming that one
day out of nowhere my father would knock on our door and
mother would welcome him with open arms. The whole family
together would sit down and get to know each other from the
beginning.
However this is only a dream. And one day
this bubble will burst. That is when we all know that
disappointments are created by dreams.
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