Banting Tales III

This is the continuation of my life back in hometown.

http://tyshushi.blogspot.com/2009/12/banting-tales-ii.html
http://tyshushi.blogspot.com/2009/12/banting-tales.html

"A story that depicts the defunct life of rural areas" - Washing Ton Post


"Unbelievably... real" - Old York Times


"Things that you don't believe. Here it is" - Shuzer Yeeh




Banting Tales III

"Raindrops keep falling on my head", sings a friend of mine while running in the ran towards the shaded porch of the university. It was a misty morning where clouds float pass the mountains of Kampar seen in the distance.

It was a beautiful song for the urban girl, dressed in MNG tops and Levi's Jeans matched with a designer duffel. Raindrops on her head seems fun.

Not for me.

Every time when it rains, I think about the windows of my home back in Banting could be soaked and wonders whether it could hold the rain water form flowing into the room.

Rain in Banting is no ordinary rain. Acidic rain might sound typical, but in Banting it rains phosphoric acid (H3PO4) rather than sulphuric acid (H2SO4). It has carved it's impression on the windows of my parents room, bit by bit, and the window could no longer withstand the wrath of mother nature.

On a bright Thursday morning, I woke up and heard some loud banging noises on the walls. I quickly walked out of my room and saw that the windows were being removed. I stood still by the doors. Looking at the rotten window panes, giving them honour of the good fight they had fought, without giving up on us.

It quickly struck my mind that it is not normal, windows were not meant to be removed. "Are we selling the windows to put food on the table?"
"Are the potatoes and vegetables not growing?"
I was in a shock.

With a gloomy feeling, started walking out of the house for some air, filled with the scent of crocodile dung, and stumbled upon a new set of windows, aluminium frame with tinted glass.

Seems like we have saved up enough for the new set of windows. Phosphoric rain is no longer a threat, for my parents' room.

What would you do when you wake up and find that your windows are missing? None thought about that question. In Banting, it is not a rare phenomenon. People sell their windows to feed themselves, for a day of two and prays that the rain doesn't come.

Banting tales - to be continued.