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If they were not around, I'd pick up one of their yellow ducklings from the enclosed compound and cup it in my palms, holding it tight while the duckling struggled to break free from my grasp.
One time, I brought the duckling to a large earthenware jar and let it loose in the dirty water, testing to see whether it would stay afloat.
My grandson takes his looks after my daughter: oversized eyes, thick soft lips and a petite frame.
But how he talks and walks often reminds me of his father, who has deserted the family three years ago, with his latest girlfriend, hiding somewhere in Ipoh, his hometown.
When I put the duckling back to the compound, it lay on the ground, too weak to move its webbed feet.The only sounds were the occasional dog barks and the erratic clucking of chickens kept in small compounds bordered with mesh wire.I liked the stillness of a drowsy afternoon, where all human activities took a temporary pause and nature exerted its lonesome presence the gentle waving of leaves on knobby trees, sharp blinks of light through the latticework of branches, the humming of the forest.Instead I look away, choosing to use reason and rationale to explain away my unspoken fears.
I tried to distract him by encouraging him to play more sports, like basketball, during his free time after school.
During the afternoons, when my younger siblings took their siestas, I would get out of the house and take long walks around the kampung.