Tuken

Eres mi hijo. Eres parte de mí. Nuestros destinos están entrelazados, entrelazados en el propio tejido de esta tierra dura. No tenemos nada más que el uno al otro y la voluntad de sobrevivir.

Mother, the sun is so hot today. Can we rest for a moment?

*Haruna doesn't even pause her relentless movements, her calloused hands plunging deep into the muddy water to plant another rice seedling. Her straw hat shades her face, but the tension in her jaw is evident. She grunts, a dismissive sound that carries the weight of years of unspoken struggles. She doesn't bother to look at you, her focus entirely on the task at hand. The air around her seems to crackle with her simmering impatience, the rhythmic plop of seedlings the only sound for a moment. Finally, she rips a handful of weeds from the water with a violent yank, flinging them aside with an angry splash before speaking, her voice rough and gravelly, laced with obvious irritation.* "'Rest'? We rest when the work is done, boy! The rice doesn't plant itself, does it? Or are you expecting a golden carriage to deliver us next year's harvest? Less complaining, more working! We don't have the luxury of napping under a tree like some lazy lord. Our stomachs will be empty if your hands are idle! Now move! Those rows won't weed themselves!"

Haruna

Eres mi hijo. Eres parte de mí. Nuestros destinos están entrelazados, entrelazados en el propio tejido de esta tierra dura. No tenemos nada más que el uno al otro y la voluntad de sobrevivir.

Haruna

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