Chapter 3

for those who missed the first few installments, click here, here and here

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October 9, 1952
Kampung Bukit Pantai


As the days went by in the small kampung, life moved on as usual. Time seemed to move slower in these lands, and the residents were well used to their routine. While the men went to see to harvest their luck, the women stayed home and made sure the children were taken care of, and that meals were ready and their houses clean. A small cottage industry of making dried or salted fish as well as keropok thrived in the village; these were usually taken to Kuala Terengganu to be sold, and the kampung folk took a fragment of whatever profits they could get. It would be unfair to say they had no ambition; rather, they were just happy to get by and live their life the way they always had.

Granted, the changing national climate held some excitement for the more ambitious of the kampung folk. As a result, many of the younger men and women had moved to the West Coast of Malaya, eager to take part in whatever revolution that all of them felt would be taking place soon. Most however were content the way they were, and that included Rafar’s family. They were not rich, but they were comfortable enough in the shell of their lives.

A few months have passed since the day Rafar had encountered that pretty girl atop the cliff. He thought he had forgotten about it, until one day he was on the beach with two of his best friends from the kampung, Suhaimi and Luqman. They were combing the beach for critters: hermit crabs, starfish, snails and crabs. They caught these animals and placed them in a wide, circular pool they had dug themselves in the sand. The pool was then filled with salt water. As with most of children’s projects, this one had no relevant purpose other than to satisfy their fascination with little animals.

“Look what I have,” Luqman said. He was a chubby dark skinned boy who usually walked around shirtless, wearing his faded and torn school shorts. His hair was curly and almost bleached brown by the seaside sun.

“What?” Suhaimi asked. He was the opposite of Luqman; tall and thin, his ribs showed through his skin. His hair was shaggy and oily and his front teeth jutted out awkwardly. They were Rafar’s best pals; they walked to school together and sat in the same class. They’d play together or hang out together, as they were doing now.

Luqman had a bright blue starfish in his hand. The creature had sharp, short spines all around it’s appendages. He held it in front of him proudly, like an athlete showing off a medal. Rafar and Suhaimi looked at it with great interest.

“Wow, it’s blue!” Rafar said. He had only seen dull grey starfish.

“Yeah, where did you get that?” Suhaimi asked and took the starfish from Luqman’s hands. He turned it over in his hands and studied the weird patterns beneath the animal.

Luqman shrugged, unimpressed. “It was near that rock pool,” he said and pointed to a rocky outcrop that sat about 30 meters away from the cliff. Rafar and Suhaimi looked in the direction he was pointing at, holding their hands above their eyes to reduce the glare. For this project, all three of them had scoured the length of the beach looking for the most interesting creatures. Suhaimi had found a washed up jellyfish, but avoided it (even they knew how dangerous jellyfish were) whilst Rafar had not yet found anything worthy of interest. Just hermit crabs and clams.

“Is there anything else in the rock pool?” they asked Luqman, who again shrugged.

“Let’s go there. Maybe we can find some interesting stuff,” Suhaimi suggested and all of them agreed.

They left their own collection and walked towards the cliff. The closer they got there the bigger it seemed. It was not a terribly tall cliff; but it had some sort of… presence. It stood there like it was watching over the kampung. If someone had told Rafar that many centuries ago when mankind was young and that they worshipped the cliff, he would have had no trouble believing it. It really did seem like a deity; a monument to whatever Gods and Goddesses the people of ancient times held in high esteem.

When they got to the bottom, they looked up at it. Rafar briefly recalled the incident that had happened a few months back. Unaware he was about to speak, he said, “Is there another kampung on the other side of the cliff?”

“No” Luqman said. “I don’t think so. We would have seen people if there was.” Suhaimi nodded his agreement. “My father told that the nearest kampung to ours is Kampung Pasir Penyu, and that’s quite a bit farther. He said behind that cliff is nothing but jungle.”

Rafar was quiet. He thought of the girl he had met again. His friends stared at him.

“Why do you ask?” Luqman said.

Rafar shrugged. “Nothing.”

With that the three of them began to explore the rocks beneath the cliff. They had to be careful as oyster clung to the rocks, and the shells were razor sharp. They stuck to the smoother surfaces. There were plenty of rock pools beneath the cliff, between the jutting formations that Rafar thought were part of the cliff itself. Beneath the cliff, they were shaded and explored at their leisure. The pools were teeming with life; they had fun catching colorful crabs (one which clamped its claws around Luqman’s foot, causing him to scream, much to the laughter of his friends), lifting starfish out of the pools and so on. There were plenty of blue starfish, like the one Luqman had caught and showed them.

Rafar made his way around the outcrop, and walked a bit further away from his friends. Pretty soon he realized he was already on the other side of the cliff. The voices of Luqman and Suhaimi, who were engrossed with the creatures they found, were quieter now. They seemed not to realize Rafar had left them.

He gingerly maneuvered his way amongst the rocks until he came to a large boulder that rose a big higher on the outcrop. He stood up, carefully balancing himself, to take a look.

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He saw a deserted beach. Unlike the one where his kampung was on, this beach abruptly met with the jungle. There was no intermediate level between the sand and the jungle; instead the thick bushes and trees started immediately just yards from the shoreline. The beach was much too narrow to be useful for a village, especially a fishing one, and that was probably why it was uninhabited, though he saw the remnants of a boat on the sand about a hundred meters away from where he was. He hopped on the rocks and landed on the sand.

The beach was awfully quiet; the only sounds he could hear were the crashing of waves and the constant humming of insects from the jungle. He made his way to the remains of the boat; only the frame was left. It looked like the ribcage of a massive animal that had died and been buried by the sand. The woodwork had been weathered smooth by time and wind. It seemed very old. He ran his hand on the wood, and his mind thought about whomever once owned the vessel.

He must have been a fisherman, he thought.

In his mind he saw a man, strong and lean, but with grey eyes that were tired by his years at sea. This man would have known nothing else but the life of a fisherman. He would wake up before dawn and push his boat out with his friends, and they would spend days out in the blue yonder, hauling it nets full of fish. Then maybe one day a storm had struck them, perhaps a storm like the one his father had told him about, and the men were lost, claimed by the ocean. Maybe their boat had sank, years ago, until another storm and bout of oceanic rage had thrown the boat back up to the surface, and the waves finally brought the boat back to land, a reminder that what sea gives it could also take away… and return.

The boat would have landed on this beach sometime ago, and maybe an animal, perhaps a monkey that had come on to shore to search for crabs and shellfish (like Rafar and his friends were doing, except they wouldn’t eat what they found) would find the remnants of the boat and wonder what it was. The boat must have been overgrown with barnacles and moss and seaweed, but that had all dried up and been blown away by the salty sea air. Over time the bodywork had rotten away, or turned into driftwood, until finally all that was left was this frame, a tombstone that represented the brave and hardy men who once rode in its hull.

Feeling the smooth wood beneath his fingers, it was easy for Rafar to be swept away by his own thoughts. Again he began to feel a longing to be out in the open water. It was dangerous but also intensely appealing to him. He did not know the word, but if he did, he would say that he thought it was a glamorous job. A job that only the bravest men do, men like his father and Pakcik Amran and his brothers, men that risked their lives to be able to feed their families.

Rafar sighed, wondering when the chance would come when he would be on a boat to go out to sea. Then suddenly he smelled something in the air; it was a subtle scent, soft and pleasing. He recognized it and snapped out of his thoughts. He turned around.

She was here; the girl with the olive green eyes. She looked as pretty as she did the day he first saw her, but this time she was dressed in white, and she had a golden band around her forehead. A transparent scarf was draped across her shoulders. Rafar stammered a little. “It’s... it’s you!”

The girl smiled. “Assalamualaikum,” she said. She walked towards Rafar, seeming to glide across the sand. She gently bowed her head down, her hands clasped politely in front of her.

“Waalaikumussalam,” Rafar answered. He strangely felt that the world had gone blurry, and that his voice did not seem to come from his own mouth. It seemed disembodied. The perfume in the air was stronger now. He could not take his eyes off the girl.

“Who are you?” he demanded. “Who are you and how did you get here?”

The girl’s brows furrowed in confusion. “Have I done something wrong?” she said, her voice gentle.

“What?” Rafar said; feeling confused himself. “Why do you say that?”

The girl walked closer and stopped a foot away from him. Surprised, Rafar took a step backwards. The girl still had a confused look.

“I ask,” she said. “Because you sound angry. Have I done something wrong that I have earned scorn?”

Rafar thought she spoke in a strange manner. “No... no,” he answered. “I'm just… surprised. I thought I was alone. You surprised me.”

“That is so,” she said. “I apologize that I have upset you. It was not my intention to do so.”

The girl bowed again. Rafar felt awkward.

“It’s alright, you don’t need to say you’re sorry,” he said. The girl raised her head and smiled. Rafar noticed her lips were a very pale pink, and her eyes a very beautiful shade of olive green. He looked around and raised his head to peek behind the girl.

“Where did you come from?” Rafar asked.

“This is my home. So perhaps you could say I have come from home, or I am actually home,” the girl answered.

Rafar raised an eyebrow. What in the world did that mean? He thought. This is weird.

“You live here? Is there a kampung nearby? Do you play around here?” he asked.

“Yes, perhaps you could say that,” she giggled and her eyes sparkled, as if she was amused by his question.

“Do you go to the school?”

“I am taught by my father, who is wise.”

Rafar grew quiet, unsure about what to say. He thought the girl was the strangest person he’s ever met. He was trying to think of something to say when he noticed the girl’s face turn glum. Her eyes grew sad. He could feel it; it suddenly seemed colder and the skies were greyer. His heart began to beat faster. What was going on?

“Are you alright?” he asked the girl. He was feeling bewildered himself.

“I must go now. I have been out here long enough,” the girl said. Rafar did not understand. He looked up to the sky, and he felt sure if was going to rain; the clouds had gathered above them and they looked heavy with precipitation. He looked back at the girl, who still seemed sad.

“Alright,” he said, feeling lame. “My name is Rafar, what’s yours?”

This time the girl cast her gaze downwards. “I cannot say,” she said.

“What? Why?”

The girl looked up. “It is not yet time. I have to go.” She turned away from him, her hair flowing behind her.

Rafar stepped forward and called out, “Wait, what? Where are you going? What is your name? Will I see you again?”

The girl stood with her back towards him. Rafar saw her turn her head slightly and say, “In time… we will. Until that time comes… you will forget.” The girl began to walk away, her feet hidden by the sarong she wore.

Rafar was about to say something when a huge gust of wind blew in his face; it was so strong he was spun around and fell down. He knocked his head on one of the pieces of wood that had been the boat and fell down, dazed. His head felt like it was spinning, and the sand was in his eyes. His tried to get up, but his knees buckled and he fell again.

The last thing he saw before he blacked out was the girl; she was walking away towards the jungle but she turned her head one last time and she smiled. And then:

Nothing.

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“Rafar? Rafar wake up!”

“Wake up!”

He opened his eyes and shut them again when bright sunlight pierced through. He slowly opened them again and saw the faces of Luqman and Suhaimi above him; they looked worried. When they saw him looking back at them they each blew a sigh of relief.

“What… what happened?” he asked, groggily.

“You tell me,” Suhaimi said. Rafar tried to sit up and his friends helped him. He looked around and saw they were on a beach. On his right there were the remnants of a boat. It looked skeletal. He put a hand to an aching spot at the back of his head and felt a lump. He groaned in pain.

“You must have slipped or something and knocked your head,” Luqman said.

“Yea,” Suhaimi nodded. “We were catching crabs in a rock pool when we noticed you were gone. We made our way to this side and saw you lying down on the sand.”

“At first I thought you were just, you know, lying down and relaxing,” Luqman said. “But then I saw a bird land on your stomach and that’s when we thought you were hurt or something.”

Rafar shook his head. “How long was I out?”

“Twenty minutes I think,” Luqman said. “We wanted to get your mother or someone, but we were afraid we’d get scolded.”

Rafar managed to laugh. “So you two were more worried about getting scolded than me passed out on a beach?”

All three of them laughed now. “Well, you seemed fine enough. Luqman checked if maybe you’d been stung by a jellyfish or something but then found the bump on your head,” Suhaimi said. When he laughed he looked like a horse, so to speak.

“Yeah,” Luqman nodded and stroked his chubby chin. “So we thought we’d just wait until you came around. When you started making noises, we began to wake you up.”

“Urgh,” Rafar groaned. “Thanks anyway.”

“No problem.”

Rafar stretched his limbs. They were now sitting on that deserted beach. Something was in the back of his mind, but every time he tried to think of what it was, he drew blanks. He felt he wanted to tell something to his friends about what had happened but he just couldn’t. What had happened before his blackout was completely scrubbed out of his head, except for a feeling that something was there.

“What were you doing on this side of the cliff anyway?” his friends asked.

He shook his head. “I don’t know. Just wanted to see, I think.”

“Well my father says we shouldn’t come here,” Luqman said. “He says this side of the cliff was too near to the jungle, and the jungle was no place for kids like us.”

“Yeah?” Suhaimi said. “Are there tigers?”

Luqman hushed him furiously. “Don’t mention it! It’s bad luck!”

Suhaimi immediately shut his mouth and had an expression of real fear in his eyes. All three of them looked behind towards the jungle. It seemed foreboding, like it could eat up anyone who stepped foot beneath the trees.

“I think they just don’t want kids to go in there. We could get lost or hurt or something,” Rafar said.

“Yes. I wouldn’t want to go anyway. It looks dark… and haunted,” Luqman said. Suhaimi looked at him and gulped.

“Haunted?”

“Yeah,” Luqman said, his voice excited now. “They said there are ghosts and spirits in the jungle and they eat people.”

“Who’re they?” Rafar asked. Luqman shrugged.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

From the jungle the sound of an unknown creature came; it was a long, wailing sound, sharp and sonorous. The three friends looked again. Suhaimi got up.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. “I don’t like this beach. It’s too quiet and it’s too close to the jungle.”

“Right,” Rafar said. “It’s getting late anyway.”

Luqman laughed. “Are you two afraid? I think its just stories,” but he got up as well, and Rafar sensed that Luqman actually believed the stories and was just trying to sound brave. He felt something else as well; again, that nagging feeling of something that had happened to him. But he just could not remember.

The three of them walked back, climbing the outcrop beneath the cliff and back towards their beach and kampung. As they came back to their beach they found that the pool they had dug had been emptied of its inhabitants; probably another group of kids had found it and ‘stolen’ their hard earned creatures. They did not mind; there was always time to dig a new pool and to collect more sea creatures. The three friends went swimming instead, and they swam until the skin on their fingers was wrinkled and their lips felt crusty with salt.

By the time they got tired the sun was setting. The three of them said goodbyes (they lived in the same kampung, within walking distance of each others’ houses; like Rafar, Suhaimi’s and Luqman’s father were fishermen too) and made their way back home.

By the time he was having a simple dinner of gulai lemak ikan masin and boiled fern shoots with his family. Rafar had forgotten entirely about what had happened to him earlier. And it would be years before he would remember again.











to be continued...