My best friend Khadijah.!
At the time of this letter I do, clear sky and comfortable air. I sat in the lonely, the women in my house were in the fields. I remembered my friend, wanted my heart to come to Padang Panjang to meet you, but my chance was not there.
Odds are true in our village right now. Because in a few months ago, came here a young man from Mengkasar, of course you remember, Zainuddin his name.
She lives not far from my house, with her bakso. But bako far away. His subtle nature causes us pity, but in the village he is not properly rewarded. Because he was a banana boy, his father was an outcast who had died in the rantau. Even if he is brought along, he is not entitled to sit in the head of the house in the event of a customary feeling, because he is not entitled to sit there Is not a person denounces his temper, only what people think is less is his nation How cruel is the custom of our country, my friend.
I feel sorry for the young man's fate, merely pity, friend, others do not, do not get me wrong. Since we are already used to these girls, we feel sorry for those who are miserable, but we can not give any help, for the word is only a woman who has no right in custom and association.
Too many I talked about others in the letter to you, when what is the life of Zainuddin the Rude person with our life .........
The lace you handed over-when the school's going to work has almost done me a job.
Originally if it was not because my mind was crumpled in a month, the lace had long since finished. But whatever you want to say, often, the design we have done, stops in the middle because all day long just run out in complaints, lamented remembering friends and friends, remembering the dark days later.
If you have time, friends, come to Batipuh, spend the night here rather overnight. Of course your mamak and your mother will give you permission, because only to my house.