Of Salt and Silver

By Ismim Putera

Karim tramped along the wooden walkway and headed for the surau. Even at 10:30 a.m., the air was chilly and damp with fog. He was aware of the effects of abnormal weather and rising sea levels on coastal areas, having read about them on Facebook and watched videos on YouTube. The dangers of going too far into the heart of violent waves were something he had warned his fellow fishermen about. He suggested they get radio transmitters, torchlights, and safety vests in case of an emergency.

His advice had fallen on deaf ears. As he had known since he was a teenager, they would instead visit a miniature Balinese temple dedicated to the sea goddess. He had not entered the temple before, but had heard rumours that it was perched on a skerry. The story went that a fisherman who got stuck on the skerry during a storm a century ago built it. He was injured while swimming one night, and a mermaid helped him get back to shore. Weeks later, the fisherman set off in search of the mermaid. After months of looking, he found the skerry where he first met her. Longing for her touch, he carved her statuette into a rock pillar. Legend has it that the goddess’s black pearl eyes shine brightly. The moonlight at night makes her hair ripple like seaweed. One night, the mermaid made her dreadful appearance. He told her how he felt, and then he dove into the ocean and never came up for air again. The temple, once a popular tourist attraction, is now nothing more than a mermaid statue sitting on a decorated altar. The fisherman’s peculiar footprint, fossilised on a rock next to the statuette, adds another layer of mystery to the tale.

Rudi’s father, Rudan, had been missing for the past two days. Karim had intended to look for him, but his wife did not want him to take the risk. He, like Rudi, had only waited for his return. The last time he saw him was two weeks ago.

*

“Ran, what... anything?” Karim responded with bits of confusion in his voice. Rudan had never come to see him at 2.40 a.m.

“Are you free now?”

A glimpse of despair layered in Rudan’s eyes. His face, with its wrinkled, pallid complexion, worried him. He was a happy-go-lucky man who had unexpectedly fathered a boy at seventeen and then married a woman almost twice his age.

“Sure.”

“Let’s go to the pier. It’s cooler there,” suggested Rudan.

Kampung Ladong was a serene fishing village thriving along the stretch of Batang Sadong. There were about two hundred stilt houses built on the swampy soil, feeding on whatever the sea could offer at night and whatever the mangroves could give in the daytime.

The oldest building in kampong was the pier. It had been constructed by the locals back when the mangrove forest was still in its infancy. It connected the town to the water, steering clear of the thick underbrush. A network of smaller walkways radiated out from the pier’s main spine, providing additional access to the beachfront. The wooden piles were still solid despite their deteriorated condition. Batang Sadong’s tides swept right under them and sped into the mangroves.

It was windy at the end of the pier. A sudden lurch of waves splashed the seawater over the spiky rootlets of the pedada trees, making the water visibly bubbly and foamy.

They sauntered along the moonlit pier. The collared kingfishers’ nocturnal chirps mesmerised him as he gazed at the pedada trees and occasionally grinned at the nipa palms.

“Have you eaten?” Karim broke the awful silence.

“Dah.”

“How’s your house?”

“I can’t sleep. I’ve got so many things running through my head,” sighed Rudan, scratching his nape.

“Tell me.”

“I’ve divorced her. We went to the Agama office yesterday and signed the papers.”

Rudan heaved another heavy sigh. His chest flattened. He pressed it against the wooden railing and glanced ahead at the endless waves.

“Sorry to hear that,” said Karim. He remembered the issue. Rudan had told him many times about his wife, her new boyfriend, and everything bad in between. “Sorry, Ran.”

“Why?”

“For not helping you for the past two months. I’m a useless friend.”

“Hey!” Rudan looked at him. “You went for the training course, right? I understand that everyone else is busy. We’re not young kids anymore. Don’t worry, I’m not asking for your money. I already owe you so much.”

The sea blew a friendly breeze at them, trying to abrade the spectral guilt shrouding them.

“I like this place. I’ve always liked it.” Rudan dangled both his feet down while hugging the wooden railing. “See that pedada tree? We climbed the tree, swam, and played in the mud.”

The stunted tree waved at them as if they were friends. Under the starlit night, it glistened with irregular patches of silvery fur over its branches. The fur would fall like snow if the trees swayed strongly enough. The fur was actually grainy lumps of salt crystals that exuded through tiny pores on the leaves. During the daytime, the villagers would manually shake the trees to collect them. You could get a small bowl of fruit by shaking a full-grown tree.

People believed mangroves were trees from heaven. A benevolent sea goddess once planted them along the shore to protect her people from the cataclysmic sea waves. The strong, sharp, pointy roots projected out of the mud would dissipate any angry-looking waves into mellifluous rumbles of ripple.

“Then, a small monitor lizard fell from the tree and landed next to you. We screamed and ran like headless chickens, hahaha!” Karim’s laughter cracked the silence of the night.

“That thing bit my arm. Crazy biawak!” chortled Rudan while brushing his hair backwards using only three fingers.

Rudan was known for that quirk. Many times, he had done it without even realising it. Soon, his finger will begin to work on the hidden area above his head. It was his silent signal that he was feeling at ease. Karim discovered that interesting fact when he was a teenager. “Eh, your elbow, what’s that? Salt?” Karim palpated the sandy texture along Rudan’s forearm, alongside the cuts and abrasions that were encircling it.

“I went to the jungle this afternoon. I tried to get some salt from the tree.” Rudan rubbed the salt off his elbow.

“It has been years since we climbed the tree and ate the salt. How’s Rudi?”

“I told him his mother wouldn’t be staying with us anymore. He’s still angry with me. Sorry if he has troubled you many times. I want you to be his caregiver or teacher. Treat him like he’s yours. Later… I don’t know when. I want you to teach him to become a good man.”

Karim bit the tip of his tongue for mentioning Rudi. It perplexed him when Rudan voiced out such wishes.

“He’s a big boy now. He can obey the rules. He’s stopped smoking, and he’s doing well in school. I hope you can be patient with him.”

“If God wills it. I’ll try my best.”

Rudan reached into his pocket and took out a small pouch. A few black pearls fell onto his hand as he turned over the pouch.

“Black pearls? Where did you get those?” Karim touched the pearls.

“It’s the black pearl from the little temple.”

“You went there?” asked Karim. “That area is dangerous.”

“I went there last night with Akim and his friends. The wind was strong, so we anchored our boats near the sea stacks and hid inside the temple till midnight. The statue was there, and we found lots of black pearls scattered around the place. Akim said he saw the statue crying, and the tears turned into these pearls.”

“That sounds creepy. Are you sure you can take these pearls from the temple?”

“Nyai Roro Kidul will grant your wish if you gather all 72 and give them to her on Kliwon night.”

“That is nonsense, Ran,” Karim chuckled and placed the pearls back into the pouch.

Ran clutched the pouch tightly. His eyes glinted. “But my wish is not nonsense.”

*

Karim followed a group of fishermen and policemen to look out for Rudan early this morning. They found his boat stuck in between rows of sea stacks in two ugly pieces, about a two-hour drive away from the pier. The front bow had detached from the main vessel, and the hull cracked as if explosives had blown it up. A fish net had twisted around Rudan’s leg, and he was discovered entangled in it. They reasoned that was the reason he hadn’t been able to jump from the boat. They found baskets brimming with fish and an overturned ice box filled with a torchlight, a life jacket, and a radio transmitter.

A few elderly fishermen commented on the scene, stating that a boat could have easily been damaged by that magnitude of wave. There may be good catches during the monsoon season, but calm waves may trick you into staying out longer. They don’t appear to be doing anything when the sun is bright, but as night falls, they can soar to great heights. Identical reports of sunken vessels dotting the shoreline have also surfaced. Rudan was likely attempting to guide his vessel away from the tumultuous waves by following the coastline. After they brought the body up, Karim discovered a pouch beneath the fish net.

In the surau, Karim prepared the body to be washed. Rudi was there too, standing still in a corner.

On the wooden plank, Rudan appeared calm and content. A thin white sheet covered his body from the brow to the ankles. His hair was as mushy as sea kelp. His muscular trunk, on which the sun shone and the sea had seasoned for many years, had lost its verve, looking almost like an old log. The life that once dwelt within had waned. The cobbled skin was as cold as the seafloor.

“Rudi, come here. The son must bathe his father.”

Rudi wiped the tears off his face with both his wrists and walked towards the plank. He grabbed the gayung and ladled out water from the bucket. His hands were trembling as if all the small bones had slackened off from the joints. His eyes were two blurry crystal balls.

“Pour the water gently.” Karim held Rudi’s wrist to dampen the ongoing tremors. He helped him direct the water from his head to his chest. As soon as the water touched the gleaming skin, a flash of memories stirred his mind.

Rudi was Rudan’s only son. He had been rebellious throughout his preteen years. He stole rice, broke window panes, vandalised two communal latrines, and sank a fisherman’s boat. Because of those misdeeds, Rudan would whip him sternly with a rattan cane at night. The sounds of his cries lulled everyone into their nightmares.

The rattan cane had shrivelled many years ago into a stalk with frayed ends. Rudi grew into a shy 14-year-old boy. He looked unmistakably like his father. He had inherited most of the traits of a man — the hair, the oval face, the good looks, the wide shoulders, the narrow nose, a pair of gunmetal blue eyes that were quick to blink, and a touch of a devil-may-care attitude.

Desperate for a better livelihood, Rudi’s mother, Masita, left the poor family five months ago. Since then, Rudi would come to his house in the middle of the night to beg for plain rice or a bottle of kicap manis to be eaten with rice. Karim would gladly entertain him if his wife were not around.

“Get in!” Karim let Rudi in. Together, they sneaked into the kitchen and smuggled out bowls of rice and some other edible stuff. “Take these. Give some to your father and grandmother, too.”

“Thanks, uncle.”

*

“Here, let’s hold the gayung together. When you pour the water down, you must pray. Pray in your heart. You must be strong.”

Rudi nodded slowly. A few drops of tears dribbled down his face.

They poured water on the body, this time from the waist to the toes. The enchanted water warmed the torso as if it could revive the body instantaneously. More tears rained down on Rudi’s eyes as they repeated the sequence, this time from head to toe. To complete the ritual, he bowed down to plant a kiss on his father’s forehead.

With the help of the men, they wrapped the body with layers of kain kafan. In the casket, Rudan looked like he was taking an afternoon nap, with his feet together, arms folded, and eyes closed forever. After the brief funeral prayer, they brought the casket to the inland cemetery.

*

Karim took a stroll on the pier. The ocean floor tripled in depth beneath him. The murky current went from a sea green to a deep amber hue as it whirled around. The pedada trees maintained their olive-green canopies despite the oncoming flood. The waves rolled back, exposing their barnacle-covered roots and showering them with shells. Schools of tiny fish swam under the trees, nibbling greedily on the molluscs.

Karim turned his face towards the water so that the sea breeze could caress his face. A man bobbed up and down between the swaying waves. He narrowed his eyes and studied the man’s features closely.

“Rrraaan! Raaan! Hoi! Hoi!” Karim spoke more loudly as the waves carried the man towards the end of the pier. Out of sheer happiness, he spread his arms wide. The railings successfully prevented him from making a clean sweep forward.

“Come up here, Ran. It’s high tide today. It’s going to flood soon!” explained Karim, as he helped the man up the notched pillar.

The man in the water did not make a single move. Sharp reflections of blue and green lit up his eyes.

Like catching a glimpse of a lighthouse’s flash, something clicked in Karim’s head. A peculiarity, odd in the extreme. The strangeness then hardened into a stone-like lump that blocked his throat.

“Ran? Is… Is that you?” Karim knelt to look at the man once more. He cast an even more intense glance at the man, focusing all his attention on the man’s face.

The man was beautiful. The late afternoon sun reflected off his fair skin and red face, making the water around him look like a pool of honey.

Karim planned on going back to the village to drag Rudi down to the dock. His ankles were as stubborn as barnacles on a whale’s back, and he hissed under his breath. Another wave of fear firmly planted him on the ground.

As the sky darkened, the sea drew the man away from the pier.

“Ran! Wait! I must tell Rudi! Don’t go!”

Exhausted from shouting, Karim took off his shirt and laid his kain pelikat on the floor. Within seconds, he was in the water, swimming towards the shore and the man. To make sure the man in front of him was not a ghost, he reached for his neck, pinched his cheeks, pulled his hair, and twisted his ears.

“Ran! You’ve returned. But… h… how?” Karim was heavily breathing. He grabbed the man’s face in both hands and cradled it. Like a tuft of seaweed, his dark green hair stood on end. The right side of his face had a thick layer of it slathered over it, almost completely covering his right eye. His face was as flawless as a mirror. As if he had been raised from the ocean floor, his skin was as smooth as glass. Fingerlets of blue freckles encircled his neck.

His eyes were two emerald marbles, glowing faintly. The longer he stared, the clearer they became. It was as if he was peering into the water at noon; he could tell that there was someone in there, but the water kept reflecting the image away.

Karim reached out and felt for the man’s heartbeat on his right chest. The vibrations were gentle but mysteriously oceanic. His coral lips were dripping with vitality. They did not blink in what must be an ungodly amount of time. Karim’s eyes filled with tears, which rolled down his cheeks and drenched his entire face. The happiness in his heart grew like seaweed and coiled around his ribs. He alternated between whining and sobbing.

Ran was Ran, whether he was still alive, six feet deep under the fresh red soil, or standing proudly on the pier with his fishing nets. He had liked Ran for too long and often hated himself for not loving him more. Fear infested him, and the feeling submerged. There, in the chasm of his rocky heart, love and hatred hardened into a frisson of regret.

“Why… why didn’t you tell me you needed money? I could give it to you… why, forgive me. This is my fault. You died because of me... why did you go to sea and get yourself drowned? Have you forgotten that it’s dangerous to catch fish during the monsoon? You are the one who told me that!”

Karim wound his arms around the man’s body. He pressed his face into the man’s shoulder, sobbing like a child. The man smelled like Ran. Fascinating. He breathed air slowly into his lungs. It was the most sensuous smell for something so new. It was an ancient smell; it was like a lament, and it came with a crisp mixture of the sea, the salt, and the sun.

“I miss you, Ran,” whispered Karim, almost inaudibly.

The man nodded weakly. “The Sea Goddess has cursed me into becoming a seaman. I’ll have to live by the sea forever. She has heard your prayers and answered mine, too. Tell Rudi that I love him. Thanks for loving him—”

A series of small flaps on the man’s neck caught Karim’s attention. He flicked them with his tongue. As the man breathed, the slit-like opening flapped gently. “Ran, you’re—”

The waves stopped moving and began twisting into a vortex. The pedada trees straightened their branches and again buried their roots in the mud. Seagulls flapped their wings slowly before coming to an abrupt stop. The sea froze like a gigantic ice sheet.

“Tell him I love him.”

The man brushed his hair with his right hand. Karim noted the familiar gesture and watched the man dive into the sea.

Beneath the surging waves, the man glowed. His streamlined body was a patchwork of silvery scales. But the man swam as swiftly as a dolphin or a shark into the equatorial currents. The water whirred and encased the man in an icy vortex, emitting ribbons of indigo, emerald, and turquoise light rays.

Karim outstretched his arms, trying to snatch the light rays. No matter how hard he grabbed them, air bubbles as big as coconuts buoyed him back toward the air-water interface.

“Raaan!” With a loud yelp, Karim splashed out of the water. He dove once more, but the depths were too great to penetrate. As the waves crashed against his body, he let out a howl of frustration.

Karim swam in ever-expanding circles until his hands were pricked and he stopped. His hands were trembling so badly that he had to raise his arms above his head just to see that they were covered in salt. The salts sparkled like icy little diamonds.

A wave pushed Karim away. He drifted aimlessly for hours before he spotted a skerry enclosed by a cove. He ascended it and took a seat next to a short pillar of rock. He cast his gaze upward and shouted for help. Laughing swallows and gulls wheeled above him. Tangerine cloud striations crisscrossed along the horizon as the sky shifted from sepia to a deep red. He peered into the shadowy alcove as the moon’s glow illuminated the water and saw a mermaid sitting atop an altar. Ice crystals sparkled all over her body. Her eyes shone like obsidian. The wind ruffled her long, dark hair.

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Ismim Putera is a poet and writer from Sarawak, Malaysian Borneo. He is the author of “Kliwon Moon and Other Stories”, “A Fiery Flesh and Other Stories”, “The Sky Serpent”, and “Red Fox Nebula”. His young adult historical novel “Nipah Nightmares” was featured in the 50 Best Malaysian Titles for International Rights 2023-2024.

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