Men become boys. Women become girls. Every identity of adulthood, being stripped away by nature, in its calmness and serenity.

How easily entertained they are by uncomplicated things. Like fish swimming in groups, their scales touching, so close to one another, and almost flying, as if they are Salmons jumping upstream.

Or the rushing water, oh so cold yet bringing such warmth to the heart. Radiating from happy souls; diving, splashing, laughing.

All of this simplicity underneath the grandeur of the waterfall, the water hitting the rocks so hard it makes us think whether the rocks would feel pain, or simply feel the pleasure of being acquainted to something so grand.

I look at them from the bank. As if they are children, trying to catch the fish with their bare hands or to trap them in their shirts. I saw Fatih reaching out for one and placing them in Fadhil’s shirt. Oh, that poor, sad fish, as it slides its way out, only to serve a bigger purpose. To put smiles on human faces – on my face as well. It swims away, unhurt, but feeling accomplished.

Fairuz swimming backwards, and pauses. I could not make it whether she crashes into one of the boys, or simply getting herself tangled in a school of fish. Laughter erupts.

She hands me her glasses, as she tells me she wants to swim closer to the waterfall. But I told Dr Qory she’s going to be blind, how is she planning on navigating in the water anyway? Apparently, at this point of time, eyesight does not matter when you have trust in your heart to guide you.

I am told Shattish isn’t a swimmer. Neither am I. The fish actually do terrify me because they seem so slimy, like eels. But in the water we go anyway.

There’s Lienn. Obviously happy to be there. I think she’s the first one to reach the waterfall. Haniff arrives later. I see him struggling to climb up the rocks where the boys are already sitting, sunbathing and possibly thinking what their next plan in life. My eyes may have tricked me; I see Lienn hoisting him up the rocks.

It is all so rewarding. Every single drop of sweat from every single move. The trek in the woods. Pausing and climbing. Passing through the streams. Sometimes the current appears to be strong, you might need to hold on tight to the rope that is meant to safeguard you from falling.

The little plants on the trees, that look like baby ferns. The moths, black and green in color, flying together, possibly seven and eight of them. It’s as if they are whispering, “Embrace us in your tired arms. Let everything go away. For now.”

Even the dirt on my shoes agrees.

As I climb, and at one point, crawl on my knees because I’m afraid to fall. Iffan constantly walking behind me, ready to catch me if I actually fall, but I do not.

I catch Haizril a couple of times, pausing, trying to remove small rocks from his shoes.

Strong couples; Fadzil and Wani, leading their son’s Zaki’s hands throughout the way. Azlina and her husband whose name I do not manage to ask, each taking turns to carry the youngest child on the back, eager to expose her to what the nature can offer.

You need to be inspired by Kak Shida. Her weak legs do not frighten her. The branch she uses as a walking pole helps her to move around, his son never losing sight of her.

We walk back to where we first ascended. Younger children – actual children, mind you – whose energy levels could never match ours, are the first to go. Mail, our leader of the day, one who is responsible for the thrill of the day, rushing to beat the actual children so that they are well-accompanied. The only time he matures today. His assistant, Matron Chaya follows his lead.

That round of applause we get when we reach the base. Mek Su, Suhaili and Rutha. Moms of the day who prepare the food for us, who carry not only tired feet but rumbling stomachs, eager for food.

Drop down to the ground. Feeling satisfied. Johann said it’s going to be water rafting next time.

Until next time, Chilling. We are grateful for your love.

Iqa, 27 May 2025.