catastrophe

i walked into booksactually on a rainy afternoon a few days before christmas. i'd planned to pick up some gifts as well as new books launched at the Singapore Writers Festival, a few weeks before. i pet one of the two cats on the head, stole a kiss from my lover next to ancient world maps across a collection of contemporary vinyl records, and walked out with four books nestling at the bottom of a brown paper bag victimised by the weather.

COAST is a mono-titular (all poems and prose with the same title) anthology of Singapore Writing. i quite recommend this read. it is not as heavy nor repetitive as i had initially assumed. another book i acquired and recommend is Boey Kim Cheng's new book of poetry 'Clear Brightness'. saving that for another entry. retrieving COAST from my bookshelf tonight, the natural crease of the spine opened up to this page, my favourite story. i read it so many times that i lost count.

'Coast'
by Alvin Pang

Having lost her vada to the sea she kept watch every dawn on the beach where she had last caught sight of him, adrift in his skoyak midway between shore and horizon. Every morning at the third ori, before the sun called the world to its labours, she would add a piece of dried kan to her rice phut in an oiled nanal leaf and depart the house without walking chibu, who would more often than not b slumped over her worktable in the smaller inner room of the house, the one with the broken window. The small path which wound around the cliff edge, wide enough only for one to pass, was dewy and treacherous in the dark, but soon opened into a sandy cresent, bound to the north and south by two ancient breakwaters, and it was to the one further off, which the villagers called davada meral, grandfather of the coast, that she would make her way, clutching her breakfast as she clambered over the slippery rock to the narrow but sturdy plateau.

She would eat with both hands, all the while scanning the horizon for signs of life, quickly spotting then looking past the lurelights of the sotokan boats and the dim red glow of the jhimcatchers. On occasion a uluabird skimming the surface of the water would takes the shape of a distant boat, its one raised wing like a soksail unfurled to catch the shorebound wind. The flipper of a passing bhaphaun would appear for a moment to be a human arm, waving in greeting or distress. It never seemed to rain while she was keeping watch, or of it if it did she took no notice, her feet firmly lodged in the crevices of the elder breakwater. Before long the sun would pry the horizon open with golder fingers and the sea would behin to gleam the colour of wet jade. Climbling down from the breakwaters, she would fold her nalal leaf into a little skoyak, leave inside it one last bite of kan and rice, set it afloat where the tug of the waves was gentle but steady, and walk away from the makeshift boat without looking back, as she returned home to her chores.

Have you eaten, her chibu would ask as she came through the door.
Yes, she would reply, and so has vada.
Then come help me with the praboyang, nurlin, before you go and check the nets.
Yes, chibu.
And she would immerse herself in the day’s work until nightfall and sleep.

The villagers were all aware of her morning vigil. Everybody know your vada has run away to the mainland, the nurlins and erlins would tease whenever she came to the village market. He is the best illukan catcher on the coast, and some big-brana porneu has hooked him for herself. The village neubos would give her knowing looks but not once did they offer a word of comfort or advice. Instead, they fussed among themselves to be the first in line at her stall, for she seemed to have her vada’s knack of always having the freshest, biggest catch of the day for sale.

Once in a while, one of the erlins her age would come to sit with her on the breakwater before dawn. One of them brought her a stolen container of sweet koomi, which his dabu fermented, skimmed and filtered under the full moon just the night before. In silence, they had watched the lunar tide swell and foam. The next night, she readied an extra portion of kaniphut for him, but he did not come that dawn or the next, or the one after. Later she found that his drowned body has been found in a nearby cove, nibbled at by the sea’s remorseless denizens, a half-drunk canister of koomi still strapped to his waist. The next dawn, she made sure to set aside an extra morsel of her skoyak offering to the sea.

She was sixteen when the dark-haired erbo came to her, adorned with the seaglass bracelets, earrings and leather skirts of a Mayar’s erlin from the neighbouring Johrikanti. Without asking for her leave, he sat down cross-legged next to her.

You are indeed very pretty, said the princeling, who has come to the island to negotiate passage and trade. The villages spoke of a mysterious beauty who appears every dawn on this rock, and now I see they spoke truly.

She had never thought of herself as beautiful. Big-boned and ample like her vada, her cheeks were flat, her lips thin, her hair tangled pukk of dirty straw, her arm grown stout from years of pulling at nets. Still, her eyes were clear and bright, and she cut a comely figure in the pre-dawn gloom. So she remained silent, and watched the sea.

I do not know whether or not you are a sea-fairy, he continued, but even if you were one of the iiloi, so fine and magnificent a treasure should tame you. He took her left hand in his, placed within it a large pearl, and closed her fingers over it with his own.

Now, he said, as she felt the cool, hard sphere press into her palm, tell me your name.

I have no name, she replied. My vada disappeared before he could give me one as is our custom. Ah, so have you been waiting all this time for him to come back and name you? Do not trouble yourself. Let me give one to you now.

He kissed her, and pressed her against the sea-moist granite for what seemed a long time. When she came to her senses, he was gone. The sun had risen a handwidth into the sky, the skraws has begun their first hunt, and the davada rock was rock was stained with her blood.

(buy the book to read the rest of the story ^_^)