My recollections of events of this time escape me but there is one thing that will always
stick in my mind: how [she] would carry me in a sleizdang7 at dusk and would rock me
to sleep by humming the "Nina Bobo" lullaby. I still remember how heavenly I found
that; so entirely 'imprisoned' in her slendang, in the curve of her arm, flat against her
body, rolling with her slow rocking gait, with the veil-like material of her kebaja [blouse]
gently grazing my cheek and her humming resonating in her breast so that I could feel
it with the rise and fall of her voice. It was as if she flowed through me