Dark, cold night in Jakarta, Indonesia 2001. I wake up to a quavering voice from my mum. “Wake up! Abbas. Wake up, We have to get on the bus.” I quickly got out of my bed, took my bag, packed my clothes and went outside. I see a bus on the dirt road. I hear people whispering to each other. My dad took my hand and led me to the bus. His hand felt like a heater, left on for ages. We walked towards the bus. People waiting in a line to board the bus. I hear a gust of wind sweeping the dirt off the road. We enter the bus and we sit at the back exhausted.
