the 60's. sometimes she'd go to her parents during the school holidays. at the southern part of the peninsula. her younger sister still a toddler. her mum loved reading. her father would buy books for her mum. she'd read while cooking. and at night.
when the new school term was about to start, her mum and sister would travel with her back to her grandpa's house up north. they took the night train from the capital city. third class. the green seats were hard. the coaches were always packed.
the train was the main mode of transport then.
her mum would pack a large tiffin carrier of food. rice. liver fried in tumeric. hard boiled eggs. it was like a picnic.
there would be makeshift cradles out of kain pelikat hung by strings to the ceiling of the coaches. mothers crooned their babies to sleep in these. most times there would be babies crying. soldiers were everywhere in their green uniforms. laughing. happy. people chatted. exchanged stories. friendships were formed.
her mum would share the food with the young soldiers. she always brought more than enough.
the train stopped at most of the stations. hawkers would come up to the windows with food. some even got on the train. it was fun. the food sold was delicious too.
there was so much colour. so much to look at. to listen to. besides the noise of the train.
the 11 hour journey did not seem long. soon the station by the sea appeared out of the morning mist.
they then took the ferry to the island state. then took the yellow bus to the hamlet on the hillslope. back to the lovely family house in the shades of so many fruit trees.
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