...every week I'm faced with the repetitive babblement to remember the same many wars over and over...what's the point of keeping on remembering killing somebody if we never learn anything from what we had atrociously done...to consciously make history repeat itself today tomorrow again and again…
…a story my father told us happened during the japanese occupation of malaya (musim jepun = japanese season)…he was carrying this heavy gunny sack of rice that they secretly procured from a dealer
on his back down to the dugout by the river where his brother was waiting…rice was hard to come by and only meant for the imperial soldiers... to feed your family, you took the risk which could end up with your being beheaded on the spot if caught…but he said that in that darkness down the steep slippery bank towards the water's edge and although with this massive weight on his puny body, he strangely felt ‘it ain’t heavy’...
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