“My father left a star chart on the wall when he left. My mother kept it.”
Kamigami heard resignation in Tel’s voice. He was a very lonely young man, and as long as he lived in a kampong, or village, he would stay that way. That was the main reason May May had asked him to take Tel on as his crew in the fishing boat. “Do you remember your father?” Kamigami asked.
“A little. He’s English, very tall and skinny. He had a beard.” That was at the root of Tel’s problems. He was too different. Not only did he have Eurasian features, with doe-shaped eyes and light skin that made Kamigami think of a teen movie heartthrob, but he was tall and slender, towering above the average Malay. It wasn’t a question of virulent racism — the Malays were very tolerant — but rather the pervasive influence of ethnicity in Malay society. Because he was a very visible half-caste, Tel was simply excluded from the mainstream of village life. Kamigami and his family had experienced some of the same rejection when they first moved to the kampong. But thanks to his Japanese-Hawaiian heritage and his wife’s beauty — she was a Zhuang from southern China — his children were very Asian in looks and readily accepted by the villagers. It also helped that he was a wealthy man and always ready to help the villagers in time of need.
“Why doesn’t your mother move to Kuala Lumpur?” Kamigami asked.
“My father still sends her money. It’s not enough for us to live in the city but enough for her to be important to the family.” Like most Malays, Tel’s family was very aware of economic reality.
Two hours later something rough brushed against Kamigami’s leg. “Don’t move,” he said. “Stay absolutely still.”
“What is it?” Tel asked, the panic back in his voice.
Kamigami lied. “Just a big fish.” He suspected it was a shark.
“I need to pee.”
“Don’t,” Kamigami ordered. Urine in the water acted like a homing beacon for sharks. The two men waited, but whatever had been there had left. Kamigami could see a faint glow in the east. “Keep paddling.”
The sun was just below the horizon when Tel gave up. “How much longer?” Despair etched every word.
“What difference does it make? We keep going until we get there.”
“I can’t make it,” Tel announced.
“At least wait for the sun to come up.”
“Why?”
“So you can see the shore and know how close you are.” There was no answer. Kamigami took two quick strokes in Tel’s general direction and dove. He reached out in the blackness as he swam in a circle. His lungs were bursting for air when he felt skin. He grabbed a handful and kicked for the surface, dragging Tel with him. He broached like a whale, spouting and gasping for breath. He grabbed Tel’s face and blew a lungful of air into his mouth. Tel coughed and threw up water. “Damn,” Kamigami growled. “We lost our pants. Lie on your back and start kicking.”
“No,” Tel replied.
“You’re stubborn. I like that. Now, start swimming or I’ll cut off your balls and feed them to the first passing shark.”
“How? You don’t have a knife.”
“Okay,” Kamigami groused, “so no plan is perfect.” He thought he heard a laugh as Tel lay on his back and kicked for the shore. Kamigami did the same as they watched the sun break the horizon. He turned to look where they were headed, and saw land. “There,” he said, gesturing in the general direction. Tel turned and looked. His spirits soared, and he kicked harder. They were making good time when a series of dull explosions echoed over them.
“What’s that?” Tel asked.
Kamigami didn’t answer and maintained his even pace. Mortars, he thought. The explosions kept up a steady rhythm, growing louder as they swam. Dark smoke rose up and drifted over the shore.
“I can touch bottom,” Tel said.
Kamigami looked down and saw a coral formation. He dropped his feet and gingerly felt for the reef. He found a smooth place and let his weight come to rest. “Be careful,” he warned. “Don’t cut your feet.” The explosions abruptly halted, only to be replaced by the sharp report of gunfire. Now he could see flames licking at the bottom of the smoke.
Tel looked at him, his eyes full of concern. “It’s our kampong, isn’t it?”
Again Kamigami didn’t reply. His eyes squinted as he studied the shore, obviously looking for something. The gunfire stopped. “I don’t see the ships that ran us down,” he said. He set off with a powerful stroke, plowing the water. Tel fell in behind him but was rapidly outdistanced. It was a long swim, and Tel was two hundred meters out when Kamigami waded ashore and disappeared into the foliage behind the high-water mark. Tel struggled ashore and followed Kamigami’s footprints into the dense underbrush.
“Over here,” Kamigami said quietly. There was something in his voice that cautioned Tel to be silent.
They waited for over an hour.
Kamigami came to a half crouch. “Follow me,” he commanded in a low voice. “Do exactly what I do, and don’t make a sound.” Before Tel could stand, Kamigami drifted silently into the brush. Tel followed, astounded by the speed of the big man. It defied all logic that Kamigami could seemingly disappear at times and then emerge twenty meters farther on. Tel blundered after him, panting hard, following familiar landmarks as they neared the kampong. The stench of burning meat and wood filled his nostrils, and his eyes burned from the smoke. He ran into Kamigami’s back.
Tel was barely able to see as Kamigami led him to the upwind side of the village. Kamigami stopped and stared into what was left of their home. “Nothing’s alive in there,” he said. He sat down to wait for the fires to burn out.
Tel sat on his haunches, overwhelmed with grief, as Kamigami examined the ground around their kampong. He motioned Tel over and pointed out a distinctive footprint. “See the ridges on the sole and heel,” he said. “They’re everywhere.”
“What does that mean?” Tel asked.
Kamigami spat. “Soldiers.” He found a stick and poked through the ashes of his home. One by one, the big man carried out the blanket-wrapped remains of two of his children and then his wife. He gently laid her body next to the children’s. “Mai Ling isn’t here,” Kamigami said, his words barely audible. He stood and went in search of his twelve-year-old adopted daughter.
“Isn’t she Chinese?” Tel asked.
“Yes” was all Kamigami said as he plodded down a trail to a nearby kampong. They had been there before while waiting for the fires to burn out, but it, too, had been destroyed in the attack and was burning. Kamigami pushed through the still-hot rubble to the house of the old woman who had been the children’s amah. The house itself was leveled, but a small shed at the back was still standing. Kamigami pulled open the low door and looked in. For a long moment he didn’t move, his face frozen. Then he bent over and disappeared inside. He came out carrying his daughter’s body. From the shreds of her clothes and the condition of her body, there was no doubt that she had been tortured and raped. Tel ripped off his shirt and draped it over her body as Kamigami carried it back to his kampong.
Kamigami and Tel placed the nine small tin boxes holding the ashes of their families in the small shrine they had built overlooking the beach. It was a beautiful spot, and willowy casuarina trees and palms curved over them, beckoning at the emerald green sea and the islands that floated on the far horizon. Only the three offshore oil platforms that marched in a straight line spoiled the peace and tranquillity that had originally brought Kamigami to this place.
“We used to come here in the evening,” Kamigami said. “May May always said we were looking the wrong way to see the sunset. But it didn’t matter.” Together they lit joss sticks and placed them on the shrine, one in front of each tin. Kamigami knelt down in the sand, his hands on his knees, and gazed at the shrine. He fingered the flat gold whistle dangling from a chain around his neck. He cocked his head as he studied the dragon engraved on one side. “May May said it made good feng shui at sea.” He turned it over to the tiger. “She said the dragon and the tiger are inseparable. Just as the North Pole must have a South Pole, if there is a dragon there must be a tiger.” He raised it to his lips and gave a little toot. It was a sad, wistful sound that drove a pang of despair into his heart. “It’s all that’s left. Everything else was destroyed in…” His voice trailed off. Then, more strongly, “I came here to escape all this. But it came after me.”