Apam Cake

In a short time it will be the holy month. So tonight, we make apam cakes.

Mum has hurt her hand. We can not make the apam cakes.

'I will do it,' I boast. 'I saw you do it.'

We head to the field where all our friends have made a stove to cook.

Dad makes me a stove with rocks and leaves. He will set a flame under the pot.

First, I put the flour into the milk. And I splash some on me too.

I give it a good mix. Mum thinks I am too hard with the spoon.

When the mix is thick, we put it in the pot. Mum puts the lid on. We leave it to roast.

'Oh no!' I groan. I did not check the mix. It is burnt.

Not all of the cakes are black. We can still eat some of them.

They are not like Mum makes them. But at least, we had some apam cakes.