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In the cool throes of the night, a figure stands on a quiet and empty beach. The tide is high, and the water laps at the figure’s feet. A moon, full and bright, sits abreast the dark sky, accompanied by the twinkle of a million stars. The moon casts an eerie glow upon the beach, and its light touches the figure, revealing it to the world.
It is a young woman; her white skin glows beneath the celestial illumination, and her silky hair billows behind her. A long, translucent silk selendang is draped across her bare shoulders; the selendang seems to float around her body, weightless and unbound. The woman has a sad expression on her face; a single teardrop falls on her cheek. She does not wipe it away.
Her heartbeat is slow, rhythmic and controlled. She raises the palm of her hands to her face and in it is an elegant yellow flower with thin, tapered petals. The smell is wonderful, soothing and tender. She sheds another tear; this time the bead of water falls onto the sand and creates a miniscule crater.
She brings her open palms to her lips and blows; the flower trembles, shakes and finally is lifted into the air. The ocean breeze takes over and carries the flower into it’s cool current; the woman looks at it tumble in the air until it becomes a distant speck. Finally the flower vanishes from her view.
“I shall see you soon,” she says.
She smiles, and the smile is knowing, yet full of sadness.
March 19, 1960
Kampung Bukit Pantai
Fishing activities on the east coast of Malaya took a significant dive in the months prior to March due to the Monsoon season. Although some still went out to sea during the months of November all down to early February, only the bravest and the dumbest would go out on a regular basis. The Monsoon was not to be disrespected, and no amount of fishing harvest would mean as much if lives were at stake. And so for around four months, the wiry men of Kampung Bukit Pantai did not go out as much as usual.
Monsoon was mostly a time to run other businesses; processing fish was one of them, but mostly the fishermen of the kampung spent these quieter, less busier times doing maintenance work on their boats and houses. Some took temporary jobs in the bigger towns or in orchards and plantations. The Monsoon season was especially frowned upon by the younger people and the children of the kampung; having used to a life on the coast, rains and storms rendered these months boring for them as they would be stuck at home with naught to do.
So they waited and waited until the clouds dissipated and the winds gradually died down; by the end of February the skies began to turn blue again and the worst of the tempests would be long gone, perhaps pushed out into the Pacific. The seas would grow calmer and settle into a somewhat melancholic state. This was a time that was eagerly awaited by most of the fishermen of the kampung for two reasons. One, it meant that their fishing could resume, bringing a vital source of income back to their homes.
Two, it meant squid season had arrived.
The calmer seas were ideal conditions for the squid; it signaled the start of breeding season. During this time, the squid would emerge from the depths of the ocean into shallower, warmer water to mate and breed. The males would be aggressive and the females would be fat with eggs. They would congregate in the thousands just meters below the surface. The fishermen of the kampung, of course, are well aware of this through observations and knowledge passed down from generations of their forefathers. Squid had a high market price, and none of the old salts wanted to miss out. Furthermore, it was a relatively easy and also fun alternative to the regular burden of setting out nets.
The fishermen would take their boats out to sea to known breeding spots by day, where they did their normal fishing routines. But come nightfall, they would light fluorescent lamps (the boats were often modified to accommodate these lamps, which ran off a generator) to attract the squid and lower weighted jigs into the water. These jigs had no hooks; instead, they had about a dozen upward facing spikes. They proved irresistible to the squid, especially as their aggression is heightened during these times. On a good night, it was not unheard of to catch more than a hundred kilos of squid, some of them almost two feet long.
The first boat to go out this season belonged to Mr. Kassim, a fat and short man with a thick moustache that had one of the bigger boats in the kampung. He had gone out two days earlier and came back with almost 250kg of squid, all from jigging. He had given some to his closest neighbors, and sold off the rest to a buyer from the city.
Rafar, Luqman, Suhaimi and Shahira had been on the beach when Mr. Kassim’s boat came in; they were amazed at the size of the catch. They heard Mr. Kassim boast that the only reason they were back at shore was because they ran out of space to store the squid on the boat.
“We have to go again this year!” Luqman said to Rafar and Suhaimi one day later as they sat in the lone coffee shop in the kampung. Rafar sipped a cup of hot tea and raised his eyebrows. He looked at Suhaimi, who looked back at him.
“Well?” Luqman asked again. The previous year the three of them had gone on a squid jigging trip on Rafar’s father’s boat. Luqman had enjoyed it tremendously, especially as it meant the opportunity to eat the mollusks as soon as they were caught and brought up onto the boat. He was a simple lad, Luqman; unlike Suhaimi, who wanted to be someone, and Rafar, who felt he wasn’t sure what he wanted, Luqman was content if he could stay in the village.
“You’ll probably get in the way of Pakcik Ramli,” Shahira said, trying to sound reasonable. She was sat next to Rafar, and his closeness was almost overwhelming to her.
“Shut up, I'm sure he wouldn’t mind. He didn’t mind last year,” Luqman said, annoyed. “Come on Rafar. Maybe this year we can go on my father’s boat.”
“I'm not too keen…” Suhaimi said. “I get seasick.”
Rafar and Shahira laughed and Luqman rolled his eyes.
“You’re an embarrassment to us, you know?” Luqman said. “If you don’t want to go, fine. But Rafar, come on, I’ll ask my father and you ask yours. At least one of them would let us come.” Luqman’s father, like Rafar’s, wanted his young son to study and be something other than a fisherman, so he regularly objected to his son’s wishes to go out to sea. Luqman (and Rafar) respected his father too much to disobey, which was somewhat of a paradox to his normally indifferent and couldn’t-care-less nature.
Rafar thought for a moment, staring at his cup of tea. In truth he felt that Shahira was looking at him intently and he felt slightly uncomfortable. Earlier today when the four of them met up to come to the coffee shop, Rafar found himself noticing, and not for the first time, how Shahira looked at him. She always seemed like she was holding something back, and that of course, was true. But Rafar never pressed her.
“I wonder if I could come?” Shahira said. Luqman made a face that said ‘no way’. Shahira waved a fist at him. She was not being serious anyway.
“I’ll ask my father,” Rafar said. “It would be fun I guess.”
“Yes!” Luqman said. “Suhaimi, are you going to come?”
The thin Suhaimi shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe…” his eyes flinched to Shahira, but she did not see. “Maybe… well, I’ll just stay here. Besides, someone needs to keep Shahira company when you two are out at sea.”
This time Shahira did turn to him. She smiled sweetly and said, “That’s so nice of you.”
“Just saying…” Suhaimi said and took two long gulps of his own cup of tea. Rafar realized then his hunch was true; Suhaimi did like Shahira. Good luck my friend, he thought, and he meant it. Luqman rolled his eyes again, bored with the scene.
The friends continued talking, and Rafar promised Luqman that he would ask his father if they could come along the next time Mr. Ramli went out to sea. Soon the parted ways, and there was this odd and bittersweet moment went they went to separate paths: As Rafar walked away, Shahira was looking at him, her eyes dreamy and her fingers unconsciously playing with her hair; and looking at Shahira was Suhaimi, his shoulders slumped but his eyes brimming with hope.
Mr. Ramli agreed with no hesitance regarding Rafar’s request. “I suppose you can have some fun,” he said when Rafar asked that night. Mrs. Latifah was not too keen on the idea of her youngest son out at the sea, but Rafar supposed it was just in her nature to worry. His father tried to relax her, saying that the Monsoon was over and that there was nothing to worry about.
Rafar felt pleased with himself. Although he was no longer was a big fan of going out to sea, he had enjoyed the squid jigging trip last year. It was a therapeutic experience. At least he did not have to pull in heavy nets and suffer his fingers being cut and blistered by the salt. Even his father, and his father’s friends: Pakcik Amran and his son Jaafar, Pakcik Dollah (Dollah Kelapa, although Rafar would not call him that to his face) and a few others mostly spent the trip jigging and not spreading nets. It was like the fishermen’s version of unwinding. And of course, as Luqman enjoys so much, the aspect of eating fresh squid out of the sea was a hard thing to turn down.
Mr. Ramli told Rafar they would set out tomorrow evening, and they would be staying maybe three days out at sea. Rafar said that was fine. Later that night he walked to Luqman’s house and told him the news. Luqman told his father, who grunted disinterestedly.
“Squid you like, school you don’t,” Pakcik Baharom muttered. He was a small, stocky man who had a limp as a result of stepping into a snare meant for deer. “Go, but don’t trouble Pakcik Ramli.”
“I won’t, Bapak,” Luqman said. Then Rafar and Luqman went to Suhaimi’s house to ask him another time. Again, he refused. Luqman tried to persuade him but he was adamant.
“I don’t want to, stop forcing me,” he said to Luqman, who raised his hands and nodded.
“I’ll bring you back squid, haha,” Luqman said and walked away laughing. Rafar heard him say ‘coward’ under his breath. Rafar turned to Suhaimi and shrugged.
“You’re sure you’re sure you don’t want to come?” Rafar asked. Suhaimi shook his head.
“Well, keep her company,” Rafar said and put a hand on Suhaimi’s shoulder.
“What?” Suhaimi said, trying to sound confused but his face was red. Rafar just smiled and winked his eye. He broke into a jog and went to join Luqman, who was already many yards away.
The next day it was hot and bright. Rafar helped his father prepare for their trip in the evening. They spent most of the day packing. His father had half a dozen hand held spools of nylon string and a bunch of squid jigs, which looked like small, elongated birds with spikes at the end. The jigs were heavy and colorful. They also packed some food: dry biscuits, coffee and plenty of water. The water they would boil on the boat, which was equipped with a small gas stove.
When evening came Luqman arrived at his house. He had a basket with him containing some kuih, which his mother had made. He, too, had the spools with squid jigs. Rafar and his father said goodbye to Mrs. Latifah, and she was wearing that look of worry and anxiety on her face, the look she had whenever her husband went out to sea. Perhaps this day she was extra worried because Rafar was going along. She told Rafar to take care and be careful, and Rafar nodded.
They walked to the beach and saw the rest of the party already there: Abang Jakpa, Pakcik Amran’s son; Pakcik Dollah Kelapa, Omar and Salleh, two young men and Pakcik Amran himself. They made final checks to their equipment and boat, and the nine men pushed the boat out to sea. Mr. Ramli, who was the ‘tekong’ or captain, helmed the 35-foot long vessel. In the shallower water the two young men, Omar and Salleh, pushed the boat forward using long sturdy poles. When the water was deeper, Pakcik Amran started the diesel engine, which clanked and sputtered into life, and they were off.
The boat was not very fast; Rafar stood at the back looking the beach and saw Shahira running up to the water’s edge; she was holding a basket in her hand and was waving to him. Suhaimi followed closely behind her.
“What do you think that was about?” Luqman asked suddenly, surprising Rafar.
“I don’t know,” Rafar said. “She must have wanted to give us something to take on the trip.”
“Maybe she wanted to say goodbye,” Luqman said and laughed. He went back to the bow of the boat and sat alongside Abang Jakpa. Rafar, meanwhile, stood at the stern, and he watched the beach grow smaller and smaller as they went out further into the sea.
March 20, 1960
Kampung Bukit Pantai
Shahira sighed disappointedly. She had been too late. She glanced at the small basket filled with fruits and cakes she had wanted to give Rafar to take on his boat trip. As it turned out, she had missed them by minutes. She watched the boat turn into a tiny dot and finally it disappeared over the horizon.
Suhaimi came running up beside her. “Hey… Hey, did you – oh, never mind…” he said when he saw the boat gone and the basket still in Shahira’s hands. She looked sad. The sun was setting and it accentuated her brown hair and eyes. Suhaimi gazed longingly at her, and then suddenly she turned to him. He quickly averted his eyes.
“Well,” Shahira sighed and she held up the basket. “At least we can still share it, right?”
Suhaimi looked at her. Earlier he was feeling a small regret for not taking up on the offer to follow the guys out for the trip; he felt torn. He wanted to stay and be with Shahira but he was also worried it would be awkward to spend time with her without Rafar and Luqman around. But on the other hand, he could not miss this opportunity to spend time with Shahira without the guys around; Rafar and Luqman would be out for three days at sea. Maybe in these three days he would find the courage to tell Shahira how he felt about her.
And now here they were, just the two of them. Shahira was smiling at him and offering to share the little goody basket she had made (even if it was originally meant for Rafar). Suhaimi thought he could chance it.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s sit down and have kuih before it gets too dark.”
He smiled awkwardly, his large teeth showing. But he didn’t care; he felt happy enough. They found a fallen coconut trunk and sat on it. Shahira placed the basket near their feet and began to run through what was in it to him.
Maybe, he thought as he sat so close next to her. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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March 20, 1960
77 kilometers off shore from Kampung Bukit Pantai
After four hours, they finally reached the squid spawning grounds. There were already a few other boats there, and all of them had fluorescent lamps hanging off the sides. Fishermen were sat around the boat with spools in their hand, and already Rafar saw they were pulling up squid.
“We’re here boys!” Pakcik Amran said. He waved to the people on the other boats. Some of them Rafar recognized; the others probably were from a different village. The boats were spread out in almost exactly the same distances from one another. They would share this gift from the sea, and there was plenty for everyone.
His father killed the engine and dropped the anchor. During the journey here his father had explained. “Where we’re going, the water is deep, but not as deep as it should be. The seabed is higher here, and the squids make it their spawning grounds. I’ve dived here once, you know. Followed the anchor rope almost all the way down. Must be about 20 or 25 meters deep, which is quite shallow this far out.”
Rafar and Luqman glanced into the water; it seemed cold and eerily pitch black. But then Pakcik Dollah Kelapa swung a fluorescent lamp above them and the water was illuminated to a greenish yellow. They saw swimming things in the water.
“There’s a lot of squid!” Luqman exclaimed, excited. Pakcik Dollah Kelapa laughed. He was chewing tobacco.
“Sure there is,” he said; he had a somewhat disturbing smile; most of his teeth had fallen out. “As soon as we set up all our lamps, we can start jigging. Now give us a hand here and don’t just sit there!”
Rafar and Luqman helped the others set up the lamps. Soon enough all of them were dropping the odd, heavy jigs into the water, and they only had to wait a few minutes before the first squid was pulled up. It was about two feet long and it squirted black ink onto the deck. The skin glowed in the dark. Then all of them began pulling up squid; sometimes two of the slimy creatures would attack the same jig, and sometimes they would pull up only half a squid. The little critters were cannibals.
Rafar also noticed larger, sleeker shapes beneath the surface. His father and Pakcik Amran saw them too, and warned the shipmates not to dangle their feet in the water.
“Sharks,” Mr. Ramli told him. None of them touched the water. They spent a few hours jigging, and then stopped. Omar cut up some of the squid and quickly broiled them on a dented metal pan. They had the squid dipped in an assam and chili sauce. Rafar thought he had never tasted anything so delicious.
It was an enjoyable night; the squid must have been in frenzy. All of them on that boat were having a good time. None of them noticed the distant flash of lightning that, for the briefest of moments, exposed large and menacing clouds, and in the already cold night air, none of them noticed the wind had become swifter.
The woman was still standing on the beach. She walked forward, but her feet seemed to glide across the sands. She left no footprints. Her long selendang billowed. Her hair streamed across her face, almost covering her eyes. And yet her gaze traveled many miles; she could see the cruel looking clouds far out in the ocean. She felt the tingle of electricity on her skin. She tasted the cold salt in the air.
“Are you waiting for this to happen?” a voice suddenly says.
“Could you not have waited at the palace?” Another voice.
“Indeed; it is destined. You need not torment your heart and watch it unfold,” yet another voice said.
“Hush, sisters, do not trouble our youngest,” yet another voice said.
“But we care for her, and it grieves us to see her looking despaired,” a new voice chimed in.
“We only wish for her to smile again,” another new voice said.
The voices were from six other women who had appeared behind her; all of them beautiful with long flowing hair and deep brown eyes, all of them dressed in similar fashion as she was: a sarong wrapped around the body, and a long billowy selendang draped across their shoulders. They were her sisters; they all looked almost indistinguishable from each other, save for the colors of their dress. One wore blue the color of the skies; another wore the orange of sunset; another wore a satiny blood red; another wore violet like the sky at the breaking of dawn; one wore the color of rich honey brown; and another was dressed in deep purple, like mangosteens.
The woman’s sarong was white and her selendang a pale yellow; but unlike her sisters’, her eyes were a light olive green. She turned around towards her sisters; she looked into their loving and understanding faces and felt that they were worried for her. She bowed her head down slightly.
“Thank you for your concerns, my beloved sisters. I knew this day would come, but never in a thousand years have I felt this… worry in my heart,” she said to them.
The sister in blue approached her; she too seemed to glide across the sand. She placed a hand beneath the woman’s chin and tilted her head up.
“Do not despair,” the woman in blue said. “Everything will be alright. It is Fated.” The other sisters all nodded in agreement.
“Now let us return to the palace. When the time comes, we shall set out. It will happen in time, but until then, we shall wait where it is not as dreary as this beach,” said another sister, the one in brown.
The woman in green nodded. One by one the sisters walked into the darkness behind them, and they seemed to disappear. The one in blue beckoned for her to follow. Reluctantly, she too joins her siblings. But before she leaves the beach, she casts one long look out to sea.
“You need not be afraid,” she whispered softly. “You will be safe…”
March 21, 1960
77km off shore from Kampung Bukit Pantai
It was late night – no, early morning - and the men were still jigging squid. The initial enthusiasm had gradually died off, and the atmosphere on the boat was now more relaxed. The men talked and smoke hand rolled cigarettes (except for Pakcik Dollah Kelapa, who chewed tobacco) and drank very sweet black coffee.
Rafar and Luqman were at the stern. Luqman sat cross-legged, and was still actively jigging, but Rafar had stopped momentarily. He felt cold and rummaged through the small cabin for something warm to cover up with. He found a small blanket in the bag his father had brought along and wrapped it around his shoulders. He stepped outside and suddenly a cool gust of wind blew his way. Squinting, he noticed something fluttering in the wind. When the wind died it drifted lazily towards him. He caught it in one hand.
It was a flower; a yellow flower with long, tapered petals. A Kenanga.
It looked fresh. Rafar brought it to his nose; it smelled wonderful. He looked around the boat and saw nothing but pitch-black ocean. The flower must have traveled far on the wind, he thought. Absently, he stuffed the flower down his shirt pocket and wrapped the blanket tighter around him.
It’s getting really cold, he thought, and shivered.
to be continued....
It is a young woman; her white skin glows beneath the celestial illumination, and her silky hair billows behind her. A long, translucent silk selendang is draped across her bare shoulders; the selendang seems to float around her body, weightless and unbound. The woman has a sad expression on her face; a single teardrop falls on her cheek. She does not wipe it away.
Her heartbeat is slow, rhythmic and controlled. She raises the palm of her hands to her face and in it is an elegant yellow flower with thin, tapered petals. The smell is wonderful, soothing and tender. She sheds another tear; this time the bead of water falls onto the sand and creates a miniscule crater.
She brings her open palms to her lips and blows; the flower trembles, shakes and finally is lifted into the air. The ocean breeze takes over and carries the flower into it’s cool current; the woman looks at it tumble in the air until it becomes a distant speck. Finally the flower vanishes from her view.
“I shall see you soon,” she says.
She smiles, and the smile is knowing, yet full of sadness.
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March 19, 1960
Kampung Bukit Pantai
Fishing activities on the east coast of Malaya took a significant dive in the months prior to March due to the Monsoon season. Although some still went out to sea during the months of November all down to early February, only the bravest and the dumbest would go out on a regular basis. The Monsoon was not to be disrespected, and no amount of fishing harvest would mean as much if lives were at stake. And so for around four months, the wiry men of Kampung Bukit Pantai did not go out as much as usual.
Monsoon was mostly a time to run other businesses; processing fish was one of them, but mostly the fishermen of the kampung spent these quieter, less busier times doing maintenance work on their boats and houses. Some took temporary jobs in the bigger towns or in orchards and plantations. The Monsoon season was especially frowned upon by the younger people and the children of the kampung; having used to a life on the coast, rains and storms rendered these months boring for them as they would be stuck at home with naught to do.
So they waited and waited until the clouds dissipated and the winds gradually died down; by the end of February the skies began to turn blue again and the worst of the tempests would be long gone, perhaps pushed out into the Pacific. The seas would grow calmer and settle into a somewhat melancholic state. This was a time that was eagerly awaited by most of the fishermen of the kampung for two reasons. One, it meant that their fishing could resume, bringing a vital source of income back to their homes.
Two, it meant squid season had arrived.
The calmer seas were ideal conditions for the squid; it signaled the start of breeding season. During this time, the squid would emerge from the depths of the ocean into shallower, warmer water to mate and breed. The males would be aggressive and the females would be fat with eggs. They would congregate in the thousands just meters below the surface. The fishermen of the kampung, of course, are well aware of this through observations and knowledge passed down from generations of their forefathers. Squid had a high market price, and none of the old salts wanted to miss out. Furthermore, it was a relatively easy and also fun alternative to the regular burden of setting out nets.
The fishermen would take their boats out to sea to known breeding spots by day, where they did their normal fishing routines. But come nightfall, they would light fluorescent lamps (the boats were often modified to accommodate these lamps, which ran off a generator) to attract the squid and lower weighted jigs into the water. These jigs had no hooks; instead, they had about a dozen upward facing spikes. They proved irresistible to the squid, especially as their aggression is heightened during these times. On a good night, it was not unheard of to catch more than a hundred kilos of squid, some of them almost two feet long.
The first boat to go out this season belonged to Mr. Kassim, a fat and short man with a thick moustache that had one of the bigger boats in the kampung. He had gone out two days earlier and came back with almost 250kg of squid, all from jigging. He had given some to his closest neighbors, and sold off the rest to a buyer from the city.
Rafar, Luqman, Suhaimi and Shahira had been on the beach when Mr. Kassim’s boat came in; they were amazed at the size of the catch. They heard Mr. Kassim boast that the only reason they were back at shore was because they ran out of space to store the squid on the boat.
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“We have to go again this year!” Luqman said to Rafar and Suhaimi one day later as they sat in the lone coffee shop in the kampung. Rafar sipped a cup of hot tea and raised his eyebrows. He looked at Suhaimi, who looked back at him.
“Well?” Luqman asked again. The previous year the three of them had gone on a squid jigging trip on Rafar’s father’s boat. Luqman had enjoyed it tremendously, especially as it meant the opportunity to eat the mollusks as soon as they were caught and brought up onto the boat. He was a simple lad, Luqman; unlike Suhaimi, who wanted to be someone, and Rafar, who felt he wasn’t sure what he wanted, Luqman was content if he could stay in the village.
“You’ll probably get in the way of Pakcik Ramli,” Shahira said, trying to sound reasonable. She was sat next to Rafar, and his closeness was almost overwhelming to her.
“Shut up, I'm sure he wouldn’t mind. He didn’t mind last year,” Luqman said, annoyed. “Come on Rafar. Maybe this year we can go on my father’s boat.”
“I'm not too keen…” Suhaimi said. “I get seasick.”
Rafar and Shahira laughed and Luqman rolled his eyes.
“You’re an embarrassment to us, you know?” Luqman said. “If you don’t want to go, fine. But Rafar, come on, I’ll ask my father and you ask yours. At least one of them would let us come.” Luqman’s father, like Rafar’s, wanted his young son to study and be something other than a fisherman, so he regularly objected to his son’s wishes to go out to sea. Luqman (and Rafar) respected his father too much to disobey, which was somewhat of a paradox to his normally indifferent and couldn’t-care-less nature.
Rafar thought for a moment, staring at his cup of tea. In truth he felt that Shahira was looking at him intently and he felt slightly uncomfortable. Earlier today when the four of them met up to come to the coffee shop, Rafar found himself noticing, and not for the first time, how Shahira looked at him. She always seemed like she was holding something back, and that of course, was true. But Rafar never pressed her.
“I wonder if I could come?” Shahira said. Luqman made a face that said ‘no way’. Shahira waved a fist at him. She was not being serious anyway.
“I’ll ask my father,” Rafar said. “It would be fun I guess.”
“Yes!” Luqman said. “Suhaimi, are you going to come?”
The thin Suhaimi shook his head. “I don’t think so. Maybe…” his eyes flinched to Shahira, but she did not see. “Maybe… well, I’ll just stay here. Besides, someone needs to keep Shahira company when you two are out at sea.”
This time Shahira did turn to him. She smiled sweetly and said, “That’s so nice of you.”
“Just saying…” Suhaimi said and took two long gulps of his own cup of tea. Rafar realized then his hunch was true; Suhaimi did like Shahira. Good luck my friend, he thought, and he meant it. Luqman rolled his eyes again, bored with the scene.
The friends continued talking, and Rafar promised Luqman that he would ask his father if they could come along the next time Mr. Ramli went out to sea. Soon the parted ways, and there was this odd and bittersweet moment went they went to separate paths: As Rafar walked away, Shahira was looking at him, her eyes dreamy and her fingers unconsciously playing with her hair; and looking at Shahira was Suhaimi, his shoulders slumped but his eyes brimming with hope.
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Mr. Ramli agreed with no hesitance regarding Rafar’s request. “I suppose you can have some fun,” he said when Rafar asked that night. Mrs. Latifah was not too keen on the idea of her youngest son out at the sea, but Rafar supposed it was just in her nature to worry. His father tried to relax her, saying that the Monsoon was over and that there was nothing to worry about.
Rafar felt pleased with himself. Although he was no longer was a big fan of going out to sea, he had enjoyed the squid jigging trip last year. It was a therapeutic experience. At least he did not have to pull in heavy nets and suffer his fingers being cut and blistered by the salt. Even his father, and his father’s friends: Pakcik Amran and his son Jaafar, Pakcik Dollah (Dollah Kelapa, although Rafar would not call him that to his face) and a few others mostly spent the trip jigging and not spreading nets. It was like the fishermen’s version of unwinding. And of course, as Luqman enjoys so much, the aspect of eating fresh squid out of the sea was a hard thing to turn down.
Mr. Ramli told Rafar they would set out tomorrow evening, and they would be staying maybe three days out at sea. Rafar said that was fine. Later that night he walked to Luqman’s house and told him the news. Luqman told his father, who grunted disinterestedly.
“Squid you like, school you don’t,” Pakcik Baharom muttered. He was a small, stocky man who had a limp as a result of stepping into a snare meant for deer. “Go, but don’t trouble Pakcik Ramli.”
“I won’t, Bapak,” Luqman said. Then Rafar and Luqman went to Suhaimi’s house to ask him another time. Again, he refused. Luqman tried to persuade him but he was adamant.
“I don’t want to, stop forcing me,” he said to Luqman, who raised his hands and nodded.
“I’ll bring you back squid, haha,” Luqman said and walked away laughing. Rafar heard him say ‘coward’ under his breath. Rafar turned to Suhaimi and shrugged.
“You’re sure you’re sure you don’t want to come?” Rafar asked. Suhaimi shook his head.
“Well, keep her company,” Rafar said and put a hand on Suhaimi’s shoulder.
“What?” Suhaimi said, trying to sound confused but his face was red. Rafar just smiled and winked his eye. He broke into a jog and went to join Luqman, who was already many yards away.
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The next day it was hot and bright. Rafar helped his father prepare for their trip in the evening. They spent most of the day packing. His father had half a dozen hand held spools of nylon string and a bunch of squid jigs, which looked like small, elongated birds with spikes at the end. The jigs were heavy and colorful. They also packed some food: dry biscuits, coffee and plenty of water. The water they would boil on the boat, which was equipped with a small gas stove.
When evening came Luqman arrived at his house. He had a basket with him containing some kuih, which his mother had made. He, too, had the spools with squid jigs. Rafar and his father said goodbye to Mrs. Latifah, and she was wearing that look of worry and anxiety on her face, the look she had whenever her husband went out to sea. Perhaps this day she was extra worried because Rafar was going along. She told Rafar to take care and be careful, and Rafar nodded.
They walked to the beach and saw the rest of the party already there: Abang Jakpa, Pakcik Amran’s son; Pakcik Dollah Kelapa, Omar and Salleh, two young men and Pakcik Amran himself. They made final checks to their equipment and boat, and the nine men pushed the boat out to sea. Mr. Ramli, who was the ‘tekong’ or captain, helmed the 35-foot long vessel. In the shallower water the two young men, Omar and Salleh, pushed the boat forward using long sturdy poles. When the water was deeper, Pakcik Amran started the diesel engine, which clanked and sputtered into life, and they were off.
The boat was not very fast; Rafar stood at the back looking the beach and saw Shahira running up to the water’s edge; she was holding a basket in her hand and was waving to him. Suhaimi followed closely behind her.
“What do you think that was about?” Luqman asked suddenly, surprising Rafar.
“I don’t know,” Rafar said. “She must have wanted to give us something to take on the trip.”
“Maybe she wanted to say goodbye,” Luqman said and laughed. He went back to the bow of the boat and sat alongside Abang Jakpa. Rafar, meanwhile, stood at the stern, and he watched the beach grow smaller and smaller as they went out further into the sea.
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March 20, 1960
Kampung Bukit Pantai
Shahira sighed disappointedly. She had been too late. She glanced at the small basket filled with fruits and cakes she had wanted to give Rafar to take on his boat trip. As it turned out, she had missed them by minutes. She watched the boat turn into a tiny dot and finally it disappeared over the horizon.
Suhaimi came running up beside her. “Hey… Hey, did you – oh, never mind…” he said when he saw the boat gone and the basket still in Shahira’s hands. She looked sad. The sun was setting and it accentuated her brown hair and eyes. Suhaimi gazed longingly at her, and then suddenly she turned to him. He quickly averted his eyes.
“Well,” Shahira sighed and she held up the basket. “At least we can still share it, right?”
Suhaimi looked at her. Earlier he was feeling a small regret for not taking up on the offer to follow the guys out for the trip; he felt torn. He wanted to stay and be with Shahira but he was also worried it would be awkward to spend time with her without Rafar and Luqman around. But on the other hand, he could not miss this opportunity to spend time with Shahira without the guys around; Rafar and Luqman would be out for three days at sea. Maybe in these three days he would find the courage to tell Shahira how he felt about her.
And now here they were, just the two of them. Shahira was smiling at him and offering to share the little goody basket she had made (even if it was originally meant for Rafar). Suhaimi thought he could chance it.
“Right,” he said. “Let’s sit down and have kuih before it gets too dark.”
He smiled awkwardly, his large teeth showing. But he didn’t care; he felt happy enough. They found a fallen coconut trunk and sat on it. Shahira placed the basket near their feet and began to run through what was in it to him.
Maybe, he thought as he sat so close next to her. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all.
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March 20, 1960
77 kilometers off shore from Kampung Bukit Pantai
After four hours, they finally reached the squid spawning grounds. There were already a few other boats there, and all of them had fluorescent lamps hanging off the sides. Fishermen were sat around the boat with spools in their hand, and already Rafar saw they were pulling up squid.
“We’re here boys!” Pakcik Amran said. He waved to the people on the other boats. Some of them Rafar recognized; the others probably were from a different village. The boats were spread out in almost exactly the same distances from one another. They would share this gift from the sea, and there was plenty for everyone.
His father killed the engine and dropped the anchor. During the journey here his father had explained. “Where we’re going, the water is deep, but not as deep as it should be. The seabed is higher here, and the squids make it their spawning grounds. I’ve dived here once, you know. Followed the anchor rope almost all the way down. Must be about 20 or 25 meters deep, which is quite shallow this far out.”
Rafar and Luqman glanced into the water; it seemed cold and eerily pitch black. But then Pakcik Dollah Kelapa swung a fluorescent lamp above them and the water was illuminated to a greenish yellow. They saw swimming things in the water.
“There’s a lot of squid!” Luqman exclaimed, excited. Pakcik Dollah Kelapa laughed. He was chewing tobacco.
“Sure there is,” he said; he had a somewhat disturbing smile; most of his teeth had fallen out. “As soon as we set up all our lamps, we can start jigging. Now give us a hand here and don’t just sit there!”
Rafar and Luqman helped the others set up the lamps. Soon enough all of them were dropping the odd, heavy jigs into the water, and they only had to wait a few minutes before the first squid was pulled up. It was about two feet long and it squirted black ink onto the deck. The skin glowed in the dark. Then all of them began pulling up squid; sometimes two of the slimy creatures would attack the same jig, and sometimes they would pull up only half a squid. The little critters were cannibals.
Rafar also noticed larger, sleeker shapes beneath the surface. His father and Pakcik Amran saw them too, and warned the shipmates not to dangle their feet in the water.
“Sharks,” Mr. Ramli told him. None of them touched the water. They spent a few hours jigging, and then stopped. Omar cut up some of the squid and quickly broiled them on a dented metal pan. They had the squid dipped in an assam and chili sauce. Rafar thought he had never tasted anything so delicious.
It was an enjoyable night; the squid must have been in frenzy. All of them on that boat were having a good time. None of them noticed the distant flash of lightning that, for the briefest of moments, exposed large and menacing clouds, and in the already cold night air, none of them noticed the wind had become swifter.
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The woman was still standing on the beach. She walked forward, but her feet seemed to glide across the sands. She left no footprints. Her long selendang billowed. Her hair streamed across her face, almost covering her eyes. And yet her gaze traveled many miles; she could see the cruel looking clouds far out in the ocean. She felt the tingle of electricity on her skin. She tasted the cold salt in the air.
“Are you waiting for this to happen?” a voice suddenly says.
“Could you not have waited at the palace?” Another voice.
“Indeed; it is destined. You need not torment your heart and watch it unfold,” yet another voice said.
“Hush, sisters, do not trouble our youngest,” yet another voice said.
“But we care for her, and it grieves us to see her looking despaired,” a new voice chimed in.
“We only wish for her to smile again,” another new voice said.
The voices were from six other women who had appeared behind her; all of them beautiful with long flowing hair and deep brown eyes, all of them dressed in similar fashion as she was: a sarong wrapped around the body, and a long billowy selendang draped across their shoulders. They were her sisters; they all looked almost indistinguishable from each other, save for the colors of their dress. One wore blue the color of the skies; another wore the orange of sunset; another wore a satiny blood red; another wore violet like the sky at the breaking of dawn; one wore the color of rich honey brown; and another was dressed in deep purple, like mangosteens.
The woman’s sarong was white and her selendang a pale yellow; but unlike her sisters’, her eyes were a light olive green. She turned around towards her sisters; she looked into their loving and understanding faces and felt that they were worried for her. She bowed her head down slightly.
“Thank you for your concerns, my beloved sisters. I knew this day would come, but never in a thousand years have I felt this… worry in my heart,” she said to them.
The sister in blue approached her; she too seemed to glide across the sand. She placed a hand beneath the woman’s chin and tilted her head up.
“Do not despair,” the woman in blue said. “Everything will be alright. It is Fated.” The other sisters all nodded in agreement.
“Now let us return to the palace. When the time comes, we shall set out. It will happen in time, but until then, we shall wait where it is not as dreary as this beach,” said another sister, the one in brown.
The woman in green nodded. One by one the sisters walked into the darkness behind them, and they seemed to disappear. The one in blue beckoned for her to follow. Reluctantly, she too joins her siblings. But before she leaves the beach, she casts one long look out to sea.
“You need not be afraid,” she whispered softly. “You will be safe…”
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March 21, 1960
77km off shore from Kampung Bukit Pantai
It was late night – no, early morning - and the men were still jigging squid. The initial enthusiasm had gradually died off, and the atmosphere on the boat was now more relaxed. The men talked and smoke hand rolled cigarettes (except for Pakcik Dollah Kelapa, who chewed tobacco) and drank very sweet black coffee.
Rafar and Luqman were at the stern. Luqman sat cross-legged, and was still actively jigging, but Rafar had stopped momentarily. He felt cold and rummaged through the small cabin for something warm to cover up with. He found a small blanket in the bag his father had brought along and wrapped it around his shoulders. He stepped outside and suddenly a cool gust of wind blew his way. Squinting, he noticed something fluttering in the wind. When the wind died it drifted lazily towards him. He caught it in one hand.
It was a flower; a yellow flower with long, tapered petals. A Kenanga.
It looked fresh. Rafar brought it to his nose; it smelled wonderful. He looked around the boat and saw nothing but pitch-black ocean. The flower must have traveled far on the wind, he thought. Absently, he stuffed the flower down his shirt pocket and wrapped the blanket tighter around him.
It’s getting really cold, he thought, and shivered.
to be continued....
2 of you said...:
Jigging sounds funny. Like jiggy. Getting jiggy with it..na na na na:DD
Why is Pak Dollah called Dollah Kelapa? My only guess is his head is like kelapa? ie bald lol
The part where you wrote in italics, the puteri part, sent chills down my spine..brr.
Waiting for the next chapter!
i needed someone with an 'old salt' nickname, so Dollah Kelapa it is, haha.
puteri tujuh..~
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