When the cassette tape played, I was seldom interested in the lyrics—how likely was a 6-year-old to care? Yet I could feel sorrow, compassion, and sadness in the singer’s voice. I imagined someone hurting her. Was she hit, betrayed, lonely? Her voice held a mystery I wanted to uncover, but she was miles away from me. Since I could not unravel the enigma, I let the thought go. As I grew older, my mother did not grow tired of playing the cassette tape. I could not hide from hearing it either, unless I could afford a roof over my head. One evening, during the holiday and with no homework to attend to, I had to ask her. ‘Mum, who’s this person always sad when they’re singing?’ ‘You mean all this time, you don’t know it’s Dolly Parton? And who told you she’s sad? When you truly express how you feel, it is not always a sad tale, my girl. Do you even know what this song playing is about?’ ‘Yes, ma. It’s her coat of many colours, just like the one Joseph had, right?’ ‘Eh en. Only hers was give...
THE EGYPTIAN OR ME? On my way back from a lucky-less interview I met an Egyptian man asking for directions to a pot shop close by. He had on this sorry look like a man who had just lost his job. When I think of it now, I think it was because I thought we shared a mutual feeling that was why I even stopped to listen to him. “I look for pot shop close here. You know?” He asked. At first I could hardly understand him until I noticed he was holding a photo of the pot shop in his hands. I pointed towards the direction, telling him the easiest way to get there. Suddenly, this short movie became annoying when this sun-tanned chubby looking man asked for my almost-emptied bottle of water. That bottle of water was my first meal, friend and companion after my horrific interview- an interview that I was made to wait for hours only to be told that the boss had traveled and won’t be back any time soon. That bottle of water helped me hide my tears as I drank it while I struggled with m...