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  • There is nothing I can say here that will ever be enough.

    Mama Dorce lived through the Dutch Colonial period on a starfish-shaped island in the middle of the Indonesian archipelago. A precocious child of the elite class, she was favored by the missionaries who asked her to travel with them as they spread the word of the bible, leaving vestiges of the colonial machine in their wake. They traveled by horse. Somewhere along the way, the missionaries taught Mama Dorce to make donuts and crepes. I can't imagine that these men and women of God would ever have thought that a graduate student from the US would reap the benefits of their instruction some decades later...

    I am never lucky. But I had somehow managed to befriend the only person on the mountain that knew how to make donuts. She gave the best hugs. She squeezed my arms with empathy when I told her I was homesick. She made me coffee when I was exhausted. She let me hang out with her in the cornfield. Quiet if we needed, chatty when we liked.
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