by Di Morrissey
‘Well, there are always rich and poor in every society, but you’re right, it’s accentuated in places like this.’
‘I wouldn’t want to live here anyway. It’s fun for an evening but I prefer our side of the island and the more traditional architecture and it’s a lot more peaceful,’ said Julie looking at the pink and peach, ochre and cream buildings.
They had drinks at Werner and Ursula Stevenson’s luxurious apartment overlooking the harbour and afterwards they all wandered down to the waterfront, looking for a place to eat.
‘This is where the action is,’ said Christopher quietly to Julie.
She glanced around, not sure if he was serious, then giggled as she realised that there were hardly any other tourists around, only a few locals.
‘It’s probably too early for everyone else,’ she said. ‘Though it’s a shame they’ll miss the sunset.’
They strolled along the waterfront, reading the blackboards and menus displayed outside each venue.
‘There’s even a Russian place,’ said Julie. ‘But I don’t think I fancy heavy Russian food. A nice fish or pasta will do me.’
‘That Russian place gets pretty boisterous as the evenings wear on,’ said Shane. ‘The customers like to sing, as well as drink.’
Eventually, they all decided on Mediterranean food and Werner ordered Italian wines. Julie looked at the prices on the menu and mentally compared them with prices in Brisbane. It seemed to be very expensive, even the ordinary Australian wines weren’t cheap.
‘I’ll stick to the local beer,’ said Julie.
Christopher leaned over and murmured. ‘My shout tonight. You can do the honours tomorrow night at Aidi’s joint.’
She smiled at him. ‘It’s a deal.’
The sky was rosy as the sun began to rise. Clouds fluffed along the horizon. Aidi led Julie and Christopher across the beach to where his boat, with its bright blue plastic roof, was pulled up to the edge of the water. As Julie and Christopher clambered into it, they were introduced to Jan, the skipper.
‘He’s a local and speaks a little English, but he really knows these waters,’ said Aidi.
The boat sped off, bumping across the water, rounding a peninsula, and heading out to sea. Over the noise of the wind and the hull slapping on the water, Julie asked Aidi how he came to be doing this job.
‘I grew up in KL. My father was a schoolteacher and historian. I asked for a book as a birthday present and received a Life Nature Library book called The Sea. This got me keen on nature but at that time studying nature was not quite as acceptable as it is now. I became a flying instructor and kept my interest alive by reading and doing aerial surveys for nature-based organisations.’
‘Christopher is a pilot, too,’ said Julie.
‘He flies jets though,’ said Aidi. ‘My experience was more modest. Anyway, while I was managing a crop- dusting operation, I noticed that the chemicals were indirectly affecting the waters offshore. I decided then to leave aviation and I studied and looked for work as an environmentalist. I came to Langkawi and fell in love with it, and I got a job as a naturalist at a resort, so I was doing what I always wanted. Later I met the manager of a new five star resort, which was being built very close to a man-grove forest. So I spoke to him at length about the potential side effects of a large development so near mangroves. The result of this conversation was that I was offered a job as the naturalist for that resort and I worked closely with the developers while they built it. Now that it’s finished, I try to educate as well as entertain guests who stay there.’ He smiled. ‘My life story, in a nutshell.’
From the boat, he pointed to some discreetly screened buildings buried among trees and set back from a sandy beach. ‘That’s my resort there. It’s very well designed, and the owners care about the local environment.’
A little further along, the boat turned into a man-grove forest which fringed the shore and for the next hour they weaved through the narrow tidal channels. Every so often Jan would stop the boat and Aidi would explain the importance of mangroves, not only to the ecosystem around them but also globally.
‘This is the bridge, the forest, that not only links sea and land, they intertwine,’ he said. ‘Mangroves, perhaps even more than rainforests, cleanse the planet.’
‘How is that?’ asked Julie.
‘One hectare of natural mangrove will take one hundred kilos of carbon out of the air. The living mangroves also filter the water. If mangrove forests are destroyed, rivers will be salty much further upstream. The mangrove forests sustain and nurture fish and crustaceans and also shelter birds and monkeys and other wildlife. If mangroves are removed, the coast will be quickly eroded because the mangroves protect the land from wave and storm damage. For centuries they have also provided all manner of important uses for local communities, but now . . .’ he lifted his shoulders in a despairing gesture.
‘And now this habitat is threatened,’ said Julie. ‘I can’t say that I’m surprised after the damage to the environment that I saw when I was in Sarawak.’
‘Yes,’ said Aidi. ‘Unfortunately it’s taken too long for people to recognise the value of mangroves. They’re not just useless wastelands. They are an essential part of the ecosystem, just like rainforests.’
‘It’s true, but they’re looked on as ugly swamps that have to be removed,’ said Christopher.
‘But in here, among the mangrove trees, it is utterly beautiful,’ said Julie. ‘I’ve never seen anything like it. From the sea you just see a tangle of roots holding up a green canopy and it looks sinister, and the grey mud is smelly. But when you get in here, into these little channels, you’re in a magic kingdom! Don’t you think so, Christopher?’
‘I have to agree. I went mud crabbing in mangroves with some mates in Queensland but I had no idea what was beyond the perimeter of the mudflats until I went in and looked and realised how fascinating they are.’
Aidi smiled as the boat putted quietly on. Jan crouched at the tiller, appearing to be familiar with every inch of this backwater.
‘Y’know, there are some very plush golf courses on Langkawi, but when they use fertilisers, the chemicals get washed into the sea and the toxins cause what is called a red tide. Then you can’t eat the fish or crustaceans. But this never happens around the mangroves because they have such a brilliant filtration system, they get rid of salts through their aerial roots and salt-filtering leaves. They are like desert plants, and can store water in their leaves. In case you’re ever stranded and need fresh water, try mangrove leaves.’ Aidi laughed.
‘If it doesn’t make sense to get rid of mangroves,’ said Julie, ‘why is it done?’
‘The land is often reclaimed for oil palms and shrimp farms. Aquatic farming is a big deal, but shrimp farms have been a disaster. Very few are run cleanly and properly. When there are problems people just fill them in and a new one is made straight away, rather than giving nature a chance to recover. It is so silly economically, too, because while one shrimp farm is employing a few people, it is ruining the fishing for several hundred families.’
‘It’s such a shame that the value of places like this is not widely understood,’ said Julie. ‘These mangroves are like living sculptures. The patterns, the interweaving roots, the whole incredible maze is extraordinary.’
‘Everything you see is designed for a purpose; the way a leaf grows vertically to avoid the midday sun, the porous roots, snorkel roots, the way they’ve evolved to survive, that’s its beauty to me,’ said Aidi.
Jan stopped the boat as they reached a mudflat and they leaned over the side of the hull, to watch the strange mudskippers slither and slide through the silky grey mud.
‘Look at those crabs with the bright red, blue and white claws. The way they are waving them about makes them look as though they are bopping to some music we can’t hear,’ said Christopher, and laughed.
‘I wish I knew where they get their energy, I want some,’ agreed Aidi.
‘It must be all the extra oxygen in he
re,’ said Christopher. ‘Good place to come if you have a hangover!’
Julie couldn’t believe that they’d spent two hours in the mangrove forest. ‘Did you ever think you’d enjoy hanging over the side of a boat for ages, watching fascinating creatures run around in the mud?’ she said to Christopher.
Aidi laughed. ‘The resort didn’t believe people would pay money to come and do this either! But they do. Now I’ll take you round to the limestone karsts, through the caves and then out to the sea eagles.’
In the quiet bay, surrounded by dark distant hills, they bobbed quietly. A small boat filled with other tourists came alongside them, revving its engine. Then, after the engine cut out, several large birds suddenly swooped above them.
Aidi pointed. ‘Those birds are Brahminy kites. Look over there, here come the white-bellied sea eagles.’
It was a magnificent sight. Everyone sat enraptured as the graceful, powerful birds plunged above and around them, scooping up the scraps of chicken that were being thrown overboard from the tour boat.
‘This is so great,’ said Julie. ‘How did this feeding frenzy start?’
‘Ah, that’s a story,’ said Aidi. ‘Some years ago, there was a charcoal factory that was harvesting mangrove trees. They cut down so many trees to make charcoal that the mud islands became unstable. The water got very muddy as a result, and this reduced the fish stocks, so the birds had to find lunch somewhere else. They moved to the airport because the grass was mowed regularly and that exposed ground creatures, which the birds loved. Now birds and planes in a limited space is a sure-fire recipe for disaster. We lost about eighty per cent of the bird population and three aircraft engines. So the charcoal factory was closed and a bird-feeding program was started to attract the birds away from the airport. As you saw, the program has been very successful and now we’re almost back to the original numbers of birds.’
‘We should just leave mother nature alone to sort things out,’ said Julie.
‘Humans can’t help but interfere,’ said Christopher. ‘Aidi, is tourism going to destroy this area?’
‘Unbridled tourism will, but well managed tourism will help the region, not destroy it. You have to give people an alternative source of income by conserving what’s here, not destroying it,’ he answered.
‘I hope you’re right,’ said Christopher.
They returned to the beach, and Julie and Christopher thanked Aidi and Jan and made arrangements to meet Aidi later for dinner.
It was a lazy afternoon back at the resort. Julie had a swim and dipped into a book, but found she was putting it aside and stroking the cat that had curled up on the daybed beside her, while she thought about Grandfather Roland’s diary.
Although they all gathered for a sunset drink, everyone had different plans for the evening. Martine, Shane, Carl, Tina and Peter were having drinks with friends of the Stevensons on a huge cruiser at the marina at Telaga Harbour.
‘You two are welcome to come along,’ said Shane.
‘We’re having dinner with Aidi and his family,’ said Christopher. ‘Maybe we can hook up later somewhere, it won’t be a late night. What do you think, Julie?’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘Well, Julie, don’t make any plans for tomorrow evening,’ said Martine mysteriously.
Julie and Christopher caught a taxi downtown to a sprawling but simple restaurant called Wonderland, which was situated beside a small tidal inlet. When they told the owner that they were meeting Aidi, he beamed.
‘Ah, yes, I am Tun, please come this way. We have a nice table for you, outside here.’
Christopher ordered two Tiger beers and they studied the menu.
‘Everything that’s cooking on that charcoal brazier over there smells terrific,’ said Julie. ‘And don’t forget, it’s my turn to shout.’
When Aidi arrived with his pretty wife, and young son and daughter, he ordered food for everyone. ‘This is Malaysian Chinese-style seafood and you must try the fresh prawns,’ he said.
Julie and Christopher burst out laughing at the sight of the platter of prawns. Each prawn was almost the length of their forearms. The prawns had been split in half and grilled over an open fire, and were served with a spicy dipping sauce. Smaller prawns, calamari, chilli crab and fish also appeared accompanied by fresh, crunchy vegetables.
‘What’s this vegetable?’ asked Julie picking up a long green soft vegetable with her chopsticks.
‘Kang kong, water spinach, but we add belacan, the shrimp paste, which gives it a strong flavour,’ said Aidi.
‘I like the ikan bahar, the spicy fish,’ said Christopher to Julie.
‘I like everything,’ laughed Julie.
Julie and Christopher hugged Aidi and his family goodbye and wandered back towards the harbour, agreeing that it had been a lovely evening.
‘I think that I got out of tonight’s dinner very cheaply,’ said Julie. ‘All that delicious food and it hardly cost a thing.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Christopher. ‘I think that eating foreign cuisine in a place like this is a bit silly, when the local food is so good.’
They strolled along the main street and decided not to go into any of the small bars but bought ice creams instead, before heading back to their hotel.
‘Have you got company in your bed?’ asked Christopher. ‘I mean, the cats.’
‘Oh, yes. I made the mistake of putting down a bowl of milk that was left over from breakfast and I soon had three of them in residence. I rather like it. They seem quite clean and they are very friendly.’
‘Sleep well. I’m off fishing tomorrow, at dawn. So I might bring back dinner for Nerida’s chef.’
‘Good luck. And thanks for coming out with me today. It was fantastic.’
‘I enjoyed it too. Selamat malam.’
Julie went for an early morning walk, accompanied by two cats who followed her faithfully around the gardens, the pool area, the rice fields and along a dusty road, before she swung back to the resort and went into the resort’s open-sided restaurant as the early morning rays from the sun glinted on the nearby lagoon.
She ordered breakfast and sat in a dreamy state indulging in the peacefulness of the morning and enjoying not having to worry about work, or make any momentous decisions.
Alice, Nerida’s business partner, placed a coffee pot and a platter of fresh fruit in front of her. ‘Feel like eggs? Pancakes?’
‘Good morning, Alice. Pancakes sound delicious. Thank you. Did you go to Penang?’
‘Yes, but everything there was well in hand, so I didn’t stay. What are your plans for today?’
Julie poured her coffee. ‘I’m not making any. Just see how the day unfolds, though Martine seems to have something in mind.’
‘Enjoy the day. I’ll tell chef to start on your pancakes.’
‘Thanks, Alice.’
She finished breakfast, changed from her walking shorts and joined the others in the big villa.
‘I wish I’d thought to ask Chris if I could go fishing with him,’ she said to Shane.
‘Oh, another time, perhaps. Those friends of Ursula and Werner sometimes take their boat out. The tender on it, I mean.’
‘A big mother ship with a crew of eight isn’t what I call fishing,’ said Julie. ‘I’m more into a small open boat and a couple of rods.’
Martine, dressed immaculately in crisp white linen shorts and a striped French T-shirt, came in and helped herself to lemon and ginger tea.
‘Are you making plans, Julie? We’ve got something arranged for lunch and for dinner.’
‘Oh, I don’t want to impose,’ said Julie quickly. ‘I’m very happy just hanging around here. I’m hoping Christopher might bring back fish for dinner.’
‘Dinner is arranged,’ said Martine, sitting down beside Julie. ‘We have a surprise planned.’
‘For Christopher?’
‘No, cherie. For you. We’re going to the big beach resort for dinner . . .’
‘Lovely! I hear
it’s gorgeous.’
‘It is. We’re having dinner with a guest who’s staying there, an old friend of the boys, Marjorie Carter.’
‘Oh!’ Julie was speechless for a moment.
‘I hope you’re pleased,’ said Shane, smiling at her. ‘We’re all in on Martine’s plan.’
‘I can’t believe it. How did this happen? How lucky we’re here at this time!’ said Julie feeling quite overcome.
‘Thank Martine,’ said Peter. ‘She persuaded Marjorie to fly over from Penang and have a little holiday to catch up with us – and to meet you.’
‘I don’t know what to say,’ said Julie, putting down her cup of tea. Her face was jubilant.
‘We thought we could all have a little social get together tonight, and then you and Marjorie can spend some time together tomorrow perhaps,’ said Martine, pleased at making Julie happy.
‘I can’t thank you enough. Is Marjorie happy to share her memories?’
The idea of sitting down and talking with someone who had known Great Aunt Bette and Uncle Philip, and the extraordinary time they must have shared, was wonderful. How she wished that her mother was there with her so that she could meet Marjorie as well.
‘It must have been a difficult time for her, too, as a prisoner in a Japanese POW camp. Did she have any family with her?’
‘You can ask her the details, but I know that she was there with her mother, isn’t that right, Shane?’
‘Her father, Lionel Potts, was a district officer in Sarawak. I don’t think that our family knew them before that.’
‘So her father wasn’t in the camp with them?’ asked Julie.
‘Let Marjorie tell you what she knows,’ said Shane gently.
When Christopher returned from his fishing trip, he came over to Julie’s house where she was sitting on the balcony.
‘Knock, knock. How’s your day been?’
‘Quiet. Restful. Nice. I’m looking forward to tonight. How was the fishing?’
‘Great, no, not really. All the big ones got away. There’s really no big-time fishing here, but it’s an excuse to hang out on a boat, have a few beers, trawl around the island. But I won’t be barbecuing a monster tonight.’