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Leaving
She has made up her mind. She has to leave her home, even if it takes courage andsacrifice to do so. Her home is comfortable, perhaps too comfortable, with the gentle presence of her mother who harvests herbs and dries them in the little courtyard. Sheknows that there is drought and that her friends are all leaving for a place faraway fromhome. Something burns in her chests. Elation? Nervousness? Hope?She puts down the fish net she has been mending for the whole morning, staring at theintricate links. The net is old, with wear and tear showing. Her father uses it faithfullyand makes his catches with it. He has never complained about the net, for it has broughtthem food on the table and some currency to use for basic luxuries. In fact, her householdhas been self-sufficient all along. Quietly determined, hard working folk, thrifty. Then,why is she the only one feeling as though she has to leave her home as soon as possible?
Traitorous mind 
, she blames herself and brushes her hair. She is young and filled with theenergy of youth. She sees her reflection in the old yellowed mirror on the earthen wall.She is not wearing the traditional garb now, not while she is at home. Yet, if she decidesto walk around the village on errands or just for a simple stroll, she will don her short jacket and loose black pants as well as her beloved silver waist belt and her favoritefloral-patterned kerchief that she would wear around her head.Self-consciously, she touches her hair once more, feeling her fringes with her fingers. Shewould later tie her hair with her combs. She feels a pang of sadness. It might be the lasttime she is walking around the village, the last chance she might see the rows of dryingfish and fishnets or listen to the songs sung by the married women as they carry out their chores for the day.* * *
 
The smell of brine fills her nose as she walks onto the creaky jetty. Ahead of her, in theform of a large nondescript trawler, is her key to the new place.
 Nanyang 
. It sounds sodistant, so unfamiliar. Yet, she has heard stories from people who heard from other  people, stories of wealth and opportunities.She has come prepared for her journey. A simple cloth-bag with essentials, a few changesof clothes and some dried fish. She has heard that the food is meager onboard thesetrawlers. She has also worn her bamboo hat, her jacket, pants and patterned kerchief.Around her waist the silver waist belt, a gift from her mother, feels cool.Her mother. She steels her heart and walks forward. Already the last stragglers arequickly boarding the boat.“Wait! Wait! Wait!” A woman’s voice, hoarse from running and exertion, shakes her confidence, makes her almost turn around.Her mother. She walks faster. The gangway is open before her. She just has to cross the jetty and walk into the dark recesses of the boat.“Wait! You are making a mistake! Don’t go!” The woman’s voice quavers as if she isabout to cry. Her mother is a tough woman. The thought of her crying breaks her heart,almost softens her resolve.She slowly wheels around and sees her mother dressed in the garb of an older marriedwoman, with more subdued colors. There are tears in her mother’ s eye and her mouthmoves voicelessly as if she is struggling to speak.“I have made up my mind,” she says to her mother and the woman gasps, turns pale. “Iam leaving for Nanyang.”
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