Classes dragged at school that day. Mr. Oto said all my sums were wrong, my letters were crooked…my everything was wrong!

“Son, what is the matter with you today?”

The bell rang.

Mr. Oto placed a hand over his forehead. “Go then, Berdu,”

I ran nonstop to Field 16.

And there was Papa next to a palm tree, harvesting bunches of ripe palm fruits. First, he hooked the large bunch with his Malayan knife and shook it one, two, three, four, five times. Then he released and stepped aside. The massive bunch came tumbling.

“Wow!”

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Page 11 by Vivian Sihshu Yenika is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, except where otherwise noted.