Bloody Comforts, Part 1 (12/15)

Oxeye scads bought from Indonesian fishermen. 

Light was withdrawing faster than we could paddle. A bowl of darkness formed. 

I liked paddling in darkness, always searching for a night where there was absolute darkness. When there was none, like tonight, I shut my eyes. The darkness compelled me to focus more inside myself and less on the outside. I had seen what’s on the outside - lights. There was moon light, lights from the shore, and lights from the boats. If I opened my eyes, every of these little lights distracted attention, whether for a moment, and if longer, a puzzle of who were the ones who set out the lights. I wanted to see and feel what was inside.

I was glad we turned away from E14 Gof Kechil, our original night stop. Even the waves were turning us away from Gof Kecil, towards the deserted island of Peniki, an island 5km further east. There were too many lights at Gof Kechil. We were still half an hour to Peniki when the water extinguished the sun behind us. I was in front of the team, failing in my mission to scout a campsite before last light. I turned to see that the team had already put out their lights, coming in strong with the rolling waves. I petulantly ignored Chan’s radio to mark my location with a light. By this time, my eyes had been closed so long that I was at peace, matching my heartbeat with the the flow of waves and the swing of my paddle. 

When I opened my eyes again, my kayak was off course, yet still near to the island of Peniki. With whatever quarter of moon light that was shinning, I could see the sandy bottom of a large lagoon. I took out my search torch, paddling to the different small islets to look for a beach. The only possible place to rest was a couple of basic platforms built at the edge of vegetation. They looked like fishermen’s shelters. Perhaps the yellow lights floating out at sea were the owners of these basic structures? Without thinking too much, I paddled out again towards the yellow lights to ask for their permission to displace them at the shelters tonight.

~

“Pak! Pak!”

No one replied and the lights did not moved.

“Pak!”

“Sini ada pantai bloeh tidur.” No time for grammar.

“Pulau situ ada!”, they pointed to where I came from.

“Bisa camp, tidur, masak?”

“Bisa!”

I have gotten the permission I needed. 

“Ikan? Besar?”, my mind was already imagining the aroma of fish smoked over the fire.

“Ada ikan.”

“Beli ikan boleh? Berapa?”

They waved me over and overturned their cage of fishes into my kayak.

“Dua puluh ratus. Roko, roko.”, an old one said.

The oxeye scads were flopping inside the cockpit. Their desperate twitch momentarily transporting me back to my childhood, my first kill of animals as food. It was so natural and easy then, unlike the sense of unease now to have blood on me. The will to live was strong, and the scads kept on their powerful twitch right till the end. 

~

The team had arrived at the same time when I got back to the island from the fishermen’s boat. I was quietly glad the campsite seemed pleasant, and the basic structures should offer small comforts after the night paddling. Most would like to change quickly to dry clothes. Changing out, I began to notice new sores and cuts. Peeling off the foul clothes was painfully slow. I comforted myself that these were due to our ever present conditions rather than neglect. It took effort to clean and maintain one’s body. Any attempts at treatment now seemed futile. 

We started a comforting fire and prepared for dinner. While some went collecting firewood, I was looking for small branches that we could use to stand the fishes to cook near the fire. Moira and Tiak were in knee deep waters gutting the oxeye scads. 

“Shark!”, they suddenly shouted.

The bloody gills and innards of the oxeye scads had attracted a baby black tip to check us out. A baby shark looked like a shark, we can see it, but the babies of mosquitoes did not look anything like one. But somehow come tomorrow, they also intruded into our food chain...