That night, the wedding presents arrived at our doorstep, and Holly paraded her designer watch from one end of the village to the other.
By the flickering light of a kerosene lamp, my parents counted out 12,000 dollars in cash, handling it so much that it began to show signs of wear.
However, they only gave me an old piece of fabric, yellowed with age.
I spent the entire night with the sewing machine the Browns had given us, rushing to make a shirt and a dress.
Holly mocked me and said, “Are you making that for yourself? You’re already someone else’s problem. If you ruin this sewing machine, what’s Mom going to use to sew my new clothes?”
After cutting the final thread, I went back to my room in silence, only to find Holly’s blank papers spread out before her.
I laughed softly to myself.
‘Holly, you can’t even imagine the struggles it takes to get an education in the city.’
Because our village was poor and remote, there were no good teachers at all.
My parents urged me to come home and work the fields, but I was determined to carve my own path, doggedly questioning the village’s educated youths.
When they all left for the city, leaving no one to guide me, I trudged for miles to the nearest town in my tattered shoes, just to borrow study materials.
