The Changing Face of Home

Archive Entry

The Travels of Mansur Daud

The Sixth Year: India, Arabia, and back again

11th Safar, 1210

For years at sea I dreamed of this day, when the last silk bale was sold and it was time to return to the Lookout. Now, I watch the coastline of my home glitter from the sea, and fear that I might no longer have a place in it.

How much has changed? How many loved ones have moved on with their lives since I left? Coming home seems twice as hard as leaving it.

20th Safar, 1210

And so much has changed. Opium smoke hazes the air; the pier is awash wit unsavory castaways from far-off lands. The old kampung (village) is gone, with only rotting timber left to speak of the neighbours who lived here. And what have they done to the names of our isles – “Hutan rainforest”? Really? Will they lay claim to Telok Penjarah as “Bay bay” next?

I must look for Mentari. My mbak (sister) was always a sharp one; she’d know what happened to our home. There’s nothing left for me here, but if I can find her… there yet be a place for me to begin and belong anew.