We were walking hand in hand through the streets without rushing. Toto-ka was teaching me about life. And I was soaring in the clouds because my older brother was holding my hand and teaching me things. He was teaching me about the world around us, outside the house. Because inside the house, I made my discoveries on my own; of course, I stepped on them, and at the end of the year, I got spanked. Before, no one hit me. But then, once they noticed my mischief, they kept saying I was the spawn of the devil, a lost soul, a scoundrel. I didn't care at all. If I wasn't outside, I would start singing. It's so beautiful to sing. But Toto-ka knew something even more beautiful than singing: whistling. I would love so much to do the same, but I couldn't do it. He encouraged me, telling me I was correctly pursing my lips, but I still didn't have a whistling mouth. And since I couldn't sing loudly, I sang inside my head.

It was strange, but very fun. A song that my mom used to sing when I was little came to my mind. She was washing clothes and had a kerchief on her head so the sun wouldn't beat down on her. She wore an apron tied around her waist and spent hours with her hands submerged in a basin of foaming soap. Then she rinsed the clothes, wrung them out, and hung them on a line tied between the reeds. She washed the clothes of Mr. Folchaber's family to help with our household. My mom was slender but very beautiful. Her skin was dark brown, and her hair was black and straight. If she left it loose, it reached down to her waist.