~~~~~
A delegation from Likupang had been assembled. Agung and Ayu were to go in one boat, while Praba and Joyah were to go in another boat.
The selection of Joyah as a representative had been the result of a long debate at the village meeting. Likupang needed to be protected, and so it was decided that no more than two men could go. At first light, Andhika had taken a boat along the front of the mangrove swamps to view Bahoi from distance, where the village seemed peaceful with some men preparing their fishing nets. However, during the visit to Pantai the Likupang families would stay close together in the strongest houses while Harta kept a lookout.
Ayu had not told Agung’s secret to anyone in their village, having thought it best to meet the family first. She had told her brother to keep his silence about this, and let her do the talking. Ayu was eager to meet the family, especially the girls, and of course she longed to see her husband after his many days of absence.
In the early morning, Agung pulled the two small boats down the beach so that they were now on the edge of the surf line, where the women were helped aboard. Ayu and Joyah sat down in the bows, each holding a paddle. Ayu had tucked her long hair up into a bunch hidden inside the wide-brimmed fisherman’s hat. The men gave each boat a shove so that they launched bow-first into the waves breaking onto the beach. Agung and Praba with practised skill jumped into the sterns.
Ayu thrilled to the sensation of the spraying surf before shooting out onto the shimmering green and blue flecked surface of the sea, where the little craft skimmed over the gentle waves. She had put in a few paddle strokes to help them through the surf, but could never keep up with the powerful athlete behind her. She turned to smile at him and put the paddle down inside the boat, relaxing to absorb the moment. The other boat kept pace alongside. She smiled across at the grinning Joyah who had also shipped her paddle.
Praba loved the sea. He loved being a fisherman. Ayu watched as he plunged in his paddle to grasp the water, pulled the handle back and gave it a little flick at the end of the stroke to keep the boat straight. Somewhere in this fluid movement he bent his body and then powerfully jerked it upright, adding continuous forward momentum. The paddle was lifted, brought forward, and plunged with hardly a splash. With years of practise, he made it look so easy. After several strokes on one side he swapped to the other side to ease the effort.
They were going east along the coast, just clear of the surf. Travelling past their beach, they now headed further out into the bay to cruise past mangrove swamps. The little breathing roots poking up through the mud were being washed over and submerged by the rising tide.
In the nurseries between the arching mangrove roots, small fish were growing into bigger fish before venturing out to sea. White-faced herons stood hunched on their untidy nests in the over-hanging branches and looked down into the teaming waters. Small flocks of herons broke into their bouncing flight with high-pitched calls of rank-oooooooooh as their boats passed alongside, and she saw the long serrated shape of a crocodile slipping into the water.
The bright morning sun bounced off the ruffled water’s surface, radiating warmth onto her face and arms, even though they were being chilled by the salty freshness as they slid through the air. The bodice of her best batik sarong filled with the sea breeze - the fabric trying to balloon from its restraints around her waist. The pleasing air current flowed under the fabric and breathed across the freed surface of her breasts.
They passed a small cove fringed by emerald greens where the waves curled with a liquid lustre of the purest blue before breaking into dazzling white surf. She looked out across the brilliant turquoise bay towards the two islands, with the horizon behind. The sky was blue. The air was blue, as if she could hold it in her hand, blue.
Looking down Ayu glimpsed so many fish of different sizes and colour, some darting away as their boat approached. The flexing shadow of their boat moved over the turquoise-yellow of the sandy seabed, then over shifting green sea grass or outcrops of darker rock and coloured coral.
On one side of the boat she could see her own fluctuating reflection looking back at her from the glassy smoothness of the clear liquid flowing past. Draping her hand over the side, she felt the friendly caress as her fingers clawed the coolness of the water. Scooping her hand and lifting, the silvery liquid spilled out into crystal drops, each droplet landing onto the pristine surface with individual splashes, each making circles of tiny ripples which disappeared behind as their boat ploughed onwards. Idly, she tasted her wet fingers, enjoying the fresh saltiness.
She watched the large pod of dolphins that frequented the bay, their fins cutting the surface, drawing closer. Not far away, several spirits at a time broke the surface, puffing and trilling as they herded a shoal of fish. Shining streamlined dolphins leapt free of the surface, joyously twisting in mid-air to splash down into baskets of spray, driving the shoal into shallower water.
There was so much wonder and so much beauty. She closed her eyes for a few moments and prayed, then opened her eyes again. Thanking Mother Earth, she saw the beauty was still there.
After a while they approached a cliff that jutted out into the sea. Her brother had stopped paddling and beckoned to Praba to bring his boat closer so they could talk. As the two small boats gently bobbed in the waves Agung said:
“Past this cliff is a beach – we go in there.”
“They know who Agung is,” said Joyah. “He should land first.”
“Then he can do the introductions,” said Praba in a calculated manner.
Ayu looked around at her brother, his torso glistening with perspiration. She could sense how nervous he was, although he hid it well. She leaned back a little and smiled at him:
“Thank you,” she said quietly. “Now try to relax.”
They set off again, slower this time, with their boat in the lead.
The Tropical Sun - Belief, Love and Hate Page 14