Going back in time, I can’t help but wish the whiff of fresh, the soothing breeze is still in the air.
But that was then.
I was born in mid 1960′s when the land of my birth was still the back waters of the country. Trees were tall in as far as you can see. I remember going inside this jungle, and it was dark in there, my skin were protected from the rays of the sky by the thick leaves and green plants that abound all over. I can hear insects whistling, birds singing. The roar of the wild boar makes me tremble with fear, but then I was always amaze with those white monkeys jumping from trees to trees, kept my young mind wondering how they could hide their color in this darkness.
Every morning, I would remember the fogs coming down to the ground. It was so thick, and so cold, but it feels really good. In the evening, the cricket sound is heard from everywhere, also were the birds howling .
Me and my younger brother would often go to the nearest river for a swim, go inside the forest to set our trap for birds, turtles or whatever that our traps might get. Most often, none. We would always bring home some birds, not from our trap, but from our slingshot. It is so easy to hit those birds then, for they don’t fly so high in those days. There are no airplanes to compete with, that’s why.
In the 1970′s, that’s when peace was broken. My troubled youth begun. (Next; My Troubled Homeland)
