Book 4 : 668

28 April 668

I am thirty-four years old today. I’ve not looked at the diary for years.

Aari wants me to read it to her for her birthday, and I ask her when it is, and she says, “who knows? Can I share yours?” and we both laugh and we kiss and I read, not the first entry, but the last one and she says, “Crikey, you took me seriously, didn’t you!” and I say I always do, and we laugh and kiss again. And I say it had got to being too much of a habit, it was best to break it off completely.

And then I read the whole blooming lot to her, and if we didn’t have lamps we’d have run out of light and now it’s late and Aariini is awake again and Aari puts her to the breast and all is quiet again.

Aari is serious for a moment. You should write the diary, she says, for Aariini’s sake, and for the sake of all our other children that we don’t have yet. Just not so much detail! Like now, you’re writing everything I’m saying. Don’t do that! Just the important things, in enough detail that someone can make sense of it in sixty years’ time, after we’re gone.

Okay, I say.

But you have to fill in some of the gaps. There’s nothing about the last few years. You should write a bit about it. And about your time sailing before you got shipwrecked. And I’ll tell you a bit about my life, and you can write that.

You could write that, I say, and she says, “I could, but you’re going to.” And I know my place and don’t argue.

Laughter. Then, STOP IT! And I realize I’ve dropped straight back into the old habit.

29 April

Aariini is six months old.

We are passengers on Manafabuula – Buula – the newest big ship, just a year old, and the biggest ever built. Fare paying cabin passengers – but with a generous staff discount. We are on indefinite unpaid leave, but we may never go back. It depends what we find in Laanoha.

Conrad has arranged for a ship to take us through the straits to Bhoemar, where we should be able to get another ship to Laanoha, if not directly, then indirectly. At least once we get to Bhoemar, people will have heard of Laanoha, he says.

Conrad was so interested in my story that he intends to visit Kep and employ an interpreter, so he can talk with Carlos, and he has promised to give my love to Mari. Her baby must be six years old now.

And he explained how Laanoha isn’t quite in a separate world like England is, but it’s enough trouble to get between the two worlds that not many people do it on purpose. In one direction it’s easy enough, because the prevailing wind lets you run through the straits easily. But in the other direction you’re usually mostly beating against the wind, through straits with reefs both sides in places. Bad in a small boat and impossible in a large one.

Why Aari’s father came through the hard way, and why he never went back the easy way, is a mystery we may never solve. The explanation may become apparent when we reach Laanoha, or even Mezham, but very possibly not. Grief may be the explanation, but we may never know.

Aari says I should write something about Kaasham.

All the evidence against him was very circumstantial. If we’d been the jury, we would have said, “Case not proven,” but we weren’t the jury. The doctor thought Mkembi’s death was very suspicious, but he couldn’t say for certain that she was murdered. Kaasham was the trainee she was teaching when she died. It was proved that he was in Yambai at the time Aari’s father disappeared.

Kaasham is in prison for life. Not condemned to death; this was a Manafa court, not a Faguri or Yambai one.

I realize that I’m writing our diary in English, and say that I’d better translate all that I’ve written, and write in Laana from now on. And Aari says we don’t know whether Aariini will grow up speaking Laana or Manafai yet, which language will you translate it into? Keep on writing in English, she’ll just have to learn English to read the diary. Good mental exercise. A waste of time, writing a translation. We might end up in Ballerra anyway.

And I point out that they have a different way of writing English in Ballerra, and she laughs.

And you’re writing too much again, she says.

30 April

I was purser on Manafaraani for two and a half years, and could have been for the rest of my life. If we come back from Laanoha, I might be purser on one of these big ships, or I might have a job in one of the bigger port offices, probably the main office at Manafa. I’m promised a job, if the business hasn’t collapsed, and that’s as likely as the sky falling.

The sky often falls, says Aari. And the business won’t last forever, but it’s true it’ll probably outlast us.

We sailed from Manafa to Ballerra, then to Faguri via Manafa, then back to Ballerra via Manafa, and so on, six times round in those two and a half years. We don’t regret a minute of it.

But now we’re headed for Ramhampong, halfway to Ballerra, where we will join Vinhaassa, the ship that will take us to Bhoemar. Going east isn’t risky at all, but if you decide to come back it’s inevitably a bit risky. Vinhaassa has been sailing back and forth between Ramhampong and Bhoemar for thirty years, Conrad says, and is as safe as any vessel can be in such treacherous waters.

There are other boats doing the trip, plenty of them in this direction. Quite a few people, and a few boats, go this way every year. Most of them stay the other side, and people who come back mostly do so aboard Vinhaassa.

Conrad says there are two sorts of people who go with no intention of coming back: those who are trying to escape their shady past, and those who are trying to escape someone else’s shady future. And he laughs.

And some of them come back because their first shady past is less shady than the second one. He laughs again.

He thinks we will be back. He says, “Your life is here. Go and visit Laanoha, and visit Mezham. You need to see Anaari’s roots. But your life is here, and your friends are here.”

And that’s true. Pili is here, and Conrad is here. And others, too numerous to list, but those two stand out. And Anwar, but we don’t see him much. And I’ve not seen Carlos, or especially Mari, for over six years, and I wish I had. If we do come back, we must make the effort.

1 May 668

Ngtok. We will visit the port office tomorrow to say our farewells, and show off Aariini. And they will say, “See you soon!” as everyone seems to.

It’s a strange experience, being a passenger. I can’t get used to not being responsible for anything but my own family. We’ve spent time watching the dolphins, and I’ve spent time watching the sails and especially the flyman as we approached Ngtok. With binoculars, like I never had before. You can save several hours on that crossing by knowing where on the coast you’re headed as early as possible. A few hours on a five day crossing doesn’t sound much, but it’s worth the effort.

One of the flyers on Buula is a joker. Our captains are very tolerant, and rarely say anything critical of his jokes, but he must be costing us time, making patterns in the sky like that. But that he is able to do it shows what great skill he has, so he’s probably worth his pay with a bit of interest.

He’s certainly the best pilot flyer I’ve ever seen. He can get the tension up for the second sail in no time, even when there’s barely a breath of wind. A pity the stern pilot flyer isn’t as sharp.

I spent a couple of hours flying the bow pilot this morning, just for old times’ sake. Just flying it for the pleasure of flying again. Just a pilot sail, not one of the big ones. Not getting it up in the first place, and not raising the tension for the second sail, nothing strenuous.

I should hope so too, says Aari.

Contributing my two percent to the progress of the ship. Well, giving another flyer a rest, without even taking his pay. A rest from the easiest flying job on the ship.

If your reactions are quick enough, Aari reminds me.

Thank goodness I didn’t ditch it. That would have been embarrassing. Maybe the flyers were hoping that I would. Hah!

Until today, not many people on Buula knew that I used to be a flyer. I was Gordon Beer in those days.

Aariini has been sick again, but she’s as cheerful as ever again already. Bibaani is playing with her. Aari is getting used to the fact that she isn’t the hostess here. But Bibaani is a less diligent hostess than Aari, and is very happy to spend time looking after Aariini while Aari and I lean on the rail and watch dolphins.

The other passengers have never experienced Aari’s style of work, so they don’t know Bibaani is less attentive than she might be. And I’m not the purser on Buula, so I’m saying nothing.

2 May

We are very touched. The port office here threw a party for us. And they’ve given Aariini a very special present: she now has a middle name. Mezhab Ngtoki Aariini. Now that is something special! She may never see Ngtok again, but she will always carry it with her. And her very own engraved marble name plaque.

Aari said Aariini will have to visit Ngtok again after she gets married, to get a new name plaque, and everyone laughed.

That idea is all very well if we’re back this side of the straits, but extra trips through the straits don’t sound very wise.

10 May

We’ve been watching the coast glide by. Passing inlets that may connect with the main strait to Bhoemar or may not, nobody seems to know or care. Probably the locals know. Maybe you can run through some of them, and maybe the locals use them for short cuts, but there’s only one you can beat your way back through in the other direction. Assuming Conrad’s information is good. We’re confident of Conrad, but even he is not all that confident of his sources.

And things change with the years, as sea level goes down and down. It’s sixteen or seventeen years since Aari’s father beat his way through. Sea level is two or three feet lower. That’s two or three feet less clearance off reefs and sandbars. Well, off reefs. Sandbars come and go anyway.

The binoculars are very good for watching the coast, but no good for watching dolphins or birds. Well – not at sea, anyway. Sometimes on land, maybe.

Dolphins on land? says Aari, and laughs.

You’re writing what I’m saying again, she says. STOP IT!

I thought you were going to tell me about your past a bit. Am I allowed to write that?

Sometime, she says. Not now.

We don’t care if people were watching us. They were too busy with their sails to take any notice anyway. But the diary nearly blew away and a nearly new pencil rolled overboard through a deck drain. There was a time when that would have been a minor disaster.

The diary is now confined to the cabin. Loss of this still would be a disaster. Even if it might be an unreadable curiosity after I’m gone.

12 May

Bingung.

We will say goodbye to Bibaani here. She is heading home on Raani in a few days’ time – whenever Raani gets here. We will have a new hostess, a smart girl with kitchen experience whom Aari will train. Aari’s last job this side of the straits, unless we come back. They’re supposed to have found a smart girl, anyway.

Aariini will spend more time with just me. She will have to learn that she can’t have the breast whenever it suits her any longer. Aari says she won’t be far away, and Aariini’s spent lots of time with just Bibaani already. Aari says I’m a silly man, and I have no answer to that. I wouldn’t say it if I had.

You would though, Aari says, and as usual, she’s pretty certainly right.

And I’m glad you would, too, she says.

STOP IT!

16 May

Buula is our new trainee hostess. This is confusing, and everyone is learning to give Manafabuula her full name. Bingung port office seem to have done a good job appointing Buula, and Aari is very happy with her.

Aari taught herself to be a hostess; she invented the role for herself. Aari thinks Buula could have taught herself equally well, and takes a hands-off approach. She’s watching for the present, but thinks that in a day or two she’ll tell Bundu – the purser – that Buula should be promoted to hostess and given the full pay, and Aari will become a fare-paying passenger again. We don’t need the money, and it’s good for our reputation.

Not that we need the reputation either. We may never need it again and it doesn’t really need any polishing if we do.

20 May

Lillaat.

Bundu insisted that Aari at least monitor what Buula is doing until Ramhampong, but he’s happy with the hands-off approach.

Aari doesn’t mention that Buula is already better than Bibaani, and it’s moot anyway. It’s more attitude than competence, and Bibaani would undoubtedly cope with any kind of crisis better. Experience counts.

Aariini seems perfectly content to be with me for an hour or two. We play and she laughs and doesn’t seem to think of milk at all. Until she sees her mother. Then Aari doesn’t get to play with Aariini until Aariini has had enough.

I’m sure everyone knows that, says Aari, and I say, well I didn’t, so maybe others don’t, either. Maybe, she says, and smiles.

21 May

We don’t like Lillaat much, and only go ashore to visit the port office.

The port office joke about cats. Every time we visit.

Aari sticks her tongue out at them. Every time we visit.

Aari sticks her tongue out at me. I’ve never written about that before, and perhaps I shouldn’t have done now. Too late.

How often do I have to tell you I like that you don’t think first? It means I can trust you, she says.

And now she’s going to tell me off for writing down everything she says, except that now I’ve written that, she won’t this time.

Oh yes I will, she says.

And laughs.

STOP IT! she says, and I laugh.

Aariini practices sticking her tongue out, and everybody laughs.

11 June 668

Ramhampong.

Goodbye, Manafabuula. Goodbye, Buula. Goodbye, everybody.

Everybody, apart from Aariini, cried. This may well have been our last goodbye, we don’t know.

Are we making a huge mistake?

No. We can always come back if things don’t work out. All being well. Aari puts her finger under my chin and lifts my head, the way I’ve so often done to her.

A soft finger in a rough beard is different from a rough finger under a soft chin. Aariini, in my arms, laughs, and pokes me in the cheek, and we all laugh, but the tears don’t stop.

13 June

Manafabuula is still there offshore. Manafafura is there as well, she arrived last night. We are sitting in a cafe on the top floor of Ramhampong’s only hotel, with a fabulous view over the harbour and the offshore islands beyond the big ships.

For the first time, it’s utterly obvious how much bigger Buula is than Fura. I knew her tonnage was more than double, but it’s another matter to see them next to each other. Yet the crew is only four more on Buula, and two of those are the hostess and one extra in the kitchen.

Maybe Conrad will be here shortly, if his plans haven’t changed and he got our letter. There’s a small boat coming over from Fura now. I don’t have the binoculars, they’re in the trunk in our room. Silly, we’ll want them out of the trunk when we’re on Vinhaassa, why should they be in the trunk now?

We probably wouldn’t see him in the boat even if he’s there, and we’ll know soon enough anyway. But yes, keep the binocs out of the trunk. We could be here for days anyway, it would be nice to have them up here even if it’s not really necessary.

I give up, Aari says, and I know what she’s talking about, and I laugh. And Aariini laughs, because that’s what people do, and because when she laughs she often gets a cuddle. Like now.

16 June

Conrad wasn’t on that boat, but he was on one later that day. He stayed two nights in the hotel, in the room next to ours. He has clients on Fura, but he said he doesn’t have to be at their beck and call all the time. He’s back on Fura now, headed for Manafa. Buula left for Ballerra yesterday morning.

Conrad has never been through the straits himself. He’s had a few clients who have. And not a few clients who haven’t, but who’ve had dealings with people who have.

He was hoping Vinhaassa would arrive before he had to leave, but she hasn’t. Not to worry, he said, Paarhen, the hotel proprietor, knows what’s going on.

Aibram, Vinhaassa’s captain – owner – is expecting you. He’s from a village not far from Laanoha, so you’ll be able to talk with him easily.

You’ll recognize Vinhaassa easily anyway, even from up here. She’s the only boat that calls here that has a massive dragon on her prow. You’ll see a lot of them once you’re through the straits.

We’ll have to remember that Aibram knows Laana, Aari says. We’re used to having our own private language, and we won’t from now on. Especially if we’re lucky, and get a Laanohan ship straight away, in Bhoemar. But I think it’s a long way, so we probably won’t.

That’s what Conrad thought too.

But Aari was six or seven when she came this way, and Conrad’s never been that side. So we don’t really know. We’ll find out soon enough. Aibram will know.

18 June

No sign of Vinhaassa yet. Conrad did say that her comings and goings were rather unpredictable – for good reason.

Paarhen’s hotel is comfortable, and we’re in no hurry. Theoretically. But we would like to be on our way again.

Paarhen employs a very good cook, and is herself a very attentive hostess. There are very few guests, maybe a dozen, but we don’t see much of them and don’t know. We think there are about forty rooms, but we haven’t counted.

Paarhen speaks good Manafai, and passable English, but, she says, sadly no Laana. Well, maybe the odd word, she says. In Laana.

She has seen me writing in the diary, and asked me whether I was writing in Laana. So she doesn’t know either Laana or English writing. Not English English writing, anyway.

Neither Aari nor I know what the local language in Ramhampong is, and we haven’t asked. We don’t particularly intend to, but who knows whether it will crop up in conversation?

Paarhen is going to miss Aariini when we go. She has a great-grand-daughter just the same age, whom she sees too rarely, she says. Aariini seems to love Paarhen, too.

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