The White Amah (12 page)

As a young warrior Entri had led raids against their enemy before his marriage to Lada had ended hostilities. He still hankered after the good old days when young females captured during the raids lived with the family as sex slaves.

Chief Dangu welcomed the wedding party into his family’s room proudly. His room was in the middle of the longhouse and was distinguished by the number of ancient human skulls tied with rattan hanging in bunches from the roof to ward off evil spirits. In days gone by a prospective bridegroom would present his bride with at least three human heads, but headhunting had been banned long ago.

Only monkey skulls hung from the ceiling of Entri’s dwelling. Looking up at the chief’s roof gloomily, he wondered if this was why he’d been dogged with misfortune.

As always, a visitor was an opportunity for rejoicing and a party was soon underway in the communal gallery that ran the length of the longhouse. Lada served their guest a spicy red wine made from fermented rice, but the highlight of the evening was when Mei Li danced for her suitor to the music of the
sapeh,
a traditional stringed instrument often called the ‘boat lute’ because its carved, elongated body resembled a
sampan.
Lada had tied hornbill feathers to the end of her granddaughter’s fingers, which accentuated her slow, fluid movements. Followed by a retinue of young women, she swayed up and down the communal room while a group of her friends sang the time-honoured songs.

Since she had been a small child Mei Li had danced for visitors and she performed the traditional hornbill dance gracefully.
Like her mother, she was born to dance. If her maternal grandfather had seen her, he would have sworn she was his daughter. She was so like her mother at seventeen, before Crystal had bleached her hair, joined the disgraced dance troupe and never been seen again.

Lada assiduously filled Langkup’s jar, and after downing four huge pots filled with the spicy rice wine he burst into raucous song. This was the signal for Mei Li and the other single women to leave. Although she wanted nothing more than to run from the room, Mei Li knelt respectfully before her chief, grandfather and suitor, and waited for her elders’ assent before leaving the festivities.

With the maidens’ departure, the tempo of the music changed as the young men enthusiastically performed the warrior dance of their ancestors. Langkup rose to his feet unsteadily and joined the dancing. His drunken contribution to the festivities was greeted with noisy cheers. Wine flowed freely and by the end of the evening the old fisherman’s head was spinning. He and Entri had come to an agreement over the price of the boat. He’d been generous to his future father-in-law, but why not? He was gaining a sound, solid boat, with Entri’s virginal, white-skinned granddaughter thrown in to warm his bones and liven his nights.

‘Mei Li, are you awake?’ whispered Lada urgently.

‘Yes, Grandma,’ replied Mei Li, wiping her eyes surreptitiously with the edge of her sarong.

The party had wound down and most of the women had

climbed up the steps to their rooms, but the men were still enjoying themselves and Lada knew there would be a lot of sore heads
in the morning. Normally she would have pestered Entri until he left the gathering and came to bed, but tonight she hoped he would continue celebrating long into the night because she needed to talk privately to her granddaughter.

‘You don’t want to wed this man … do you?’ asked Lada. She didn’t believe that her granddaughter could possibly want to marry Langkup. The wizened Indonesian fisherman was only ten years younger than Mei Li’s grandfather. But you can’t always tell with girls, she thought wisely. Maybe she wants to be a wife at any price.

Mei Li had been weeping quietly out of respect for her grandparents, too polite to let them know how wretched she felt about the marriage contract. But Lada’s soft words opened the floodgates and she began to sob noisily.

‘Hush,’ said Lada, lying down and putting her arms about her, pressing the girl close to her breast, running her fingers through her tangled, silky hair, whispering endearments, consoling her as she had when Rubiah had deserted the howling baby seventeen years ago.

After a while Mei Li ceased weeping. She raised her head and smiled at her grandmother, her wet eyes swimming in tears. ‘I was just upset at leaving you and Granddad.’

‘Never lie to me,’ said Lada. ‘Tell me the truth. Do you want to sleep with this man?’

Mei Li shook her head. ‘But I must. Granddad has given his word and … you need my bride-price.’

‘Bah! You’re not to think of that. Mei Li, listen carefully to what I’m about to tell you. Many girls from our tribe have married men from Langkup’s tribe and some have lived to regret it. My own daughter, Bata, married a man from their village. You
won’t remember her, Mei Li. You were barely walking when she was married…’ Lada broke off, too upset to continue.

‘What happened to her?’ asked Mei Li. It was rare for her formidable grandmother to be affected by emotion or talk about the past.

‘She died,’ replied her grandmother starkly, ‘and her husband sold her little girl – my granddaughter – to a brothel. You know what that is, don’t you, Mei Li?’

Mei Li nodded. She’d learned about prostitutes from some of the boys who liked to boast about their exploits in the city after the market was over for the day and they had money in their pockets.

‘Men call them whores but I call them slaves. The girls have to go with six or seven men a day and the man who runs the brothel keeps the money. They have nothing and live in squalor.’

‘What happened to the little girl, your granddaughter?’

‘I don’t know where she is. It’s better that I don’t know.’ Lada wiped her eyes. ‘If your grandfather ever found her he would kill her, and I don’t want the same thing to happen to you,’ she said fiercely.

‘But Granddad loves me.’

‘Your grandfather is sick, old and desperate. He doesn’t want to know too much. Maybe I am condemning Langkup unfairly, but even if he is a good man I won’t have you tied to someone you don’t love. Come on, get up, there’s no time to lose.’

‘But where can I go? I can’t hide forever.’

‘There’s only one thing to be done. You have to find your mother.’

‘My mother?’ repeated Mei Li, stunned.

‘Yes, Dedan says she still lives in Miri. You must go to her. She’ll help you. She’s your mother, after all,’ said Lada firmly, although she felt far from confident. But surely Rubiah wouldn’t turn her back on her own daughter. No one was that hardhearted.

Lada urged Mei Li to get her things together. She watched her for a moment and then crept silently down the steps. Pleased, she saw that both Entri and Langkup were snoring noisily under the longhouse, almost drowning out the sound of foraging pigs, screeching monkeys and a stringed orchestra of insects. She snatched up the remains of the roasted boar, wrapped it in a banana leaf and placed it in her basket. Then calmly she made her way behind the longhouse.

The leafy, flourishing garden stretched far in all directions. Fruit and nut trees were growing on raised beds. Lada walked between the rows, picking bananas, breadfruit, rambutans – her granddaughter’s favourite – and coconuts for their milk. She walked over to the swamp, filled now with the drooping, tawny heads of dying paddy rice, to where lush clumps of vibrant green tapioca grew wild. She stripped the plants of their youngest leaves only; eaten raw, the young leaves made a good feed. While she worked her sharp, quick brain never stopped thinking. By the time she returned to her room she’d worked out how her granddaughter was going to get away. The village was situated close to the mouth of the river. Rivers were the main arteries in this mainly undeveloped state, and Lada knew that if Mei Li followed the Pangup she would eventually find the main river that flowed to Bandar Miri.

‘You must seek out Dedan and ask him to take you to your mother’s house,’ she instructed Mei Li. ‘Show her this,’ she said,
taking off the heavy beaded ornament, the ‘collar of the matriarch’ that guaranteed her the support of her people, a custom even Rubiah was obliged to obey.

Mei Li couldn’t believe that Lada was giving her the one valuable thing she owned. She knew the intricately carved neck ornament would be treasured by collectors interested in early native Sarawakian jewellery. It had been passed down the distaff side of Lada’s family since their chief had led his followers into Sarawak, and they’d settled at the mouth of the river, named Pangup after their great chieftain.

‘Put it on, girl,’ Lada said impatiently.

Mei Li looked at the ebony necklace in disbelief. ‘I can’t wear it. I’m not worthy.’

‘Foolish girl.’

The matriarch blinked away a rare tear. A complex, powerful woman descended from an ancient chieftain, plain-looking Lada had married the only man who’d asked for her. It had been an unequal marriage. Entri was a good but simple man who was no match for his clever wife. Lada had never expected to experience passion – especially not now, when she was an old woman – but that was how she felt about her granddaughter. She loved Mei Li single-mindedly with an intensity she had never felt for either her husband or her own children.

You’ll never know how dear you are to me, Little Lotus, she thought, looking mistily at the treasure her daughter had spurned. Lada had been captivated by Mei Li ever since she was an infant. Used to her own babies, she found this alien child intriguing, so different from her own daughters. She could see little of Rubiah in the girl, except for the colour of her hair. Mother and daughter were both exquisite, beautiful
representatives of their cultures but as different as a vivid, showy snapdragon and a pure white lotus. Lada found it hard to understand why the young men of the village weren’t captivated by her granddaughter’s graceful, willowy beauty. Idiots, she thought dismissively, to gulp down the common oyster and pass up this lustrous pearl.

‘It’s beautiful.’ Mei Li marvelled at the beads, each of which was carved with a tribal totem.

‘Wear it on your journey. Other travellers will respect you as a head woman. Here, let me help you.’ She lifted up Mei Li’s silky, fine hair, marvelling at its softness, so different in texture to her own coarse grey strands.

‘It’s a long trip.’ She smoothed Mei Li’s hair and fussily arranged the ornament just so. ‘I’ve packed some food for you,’ she said, handing her granddaughter the heavy basket. ‘Come now, child, don’t dally. It’s time to say goodbye.’

‘I don’t want to leave you,’ said Mei Li, her voice breaking.

Lada drew the tall, slender girl to her and hugged her awkwardly. Mei Li bent her head and kissed the top of her tiny grandmother’s head. They stood this way for a while, so silently they could hear the beat of each other’s heart.

Lada whispered, ‘I’m glad I had you. I thank the spirits for you every day, every single day. But now it’s time for you to leave the longhouse.’

‘But where shall I go?’

‘You must find your uncle Dedan. He still works at the same drycleaners in Miri. He is a good, generous man. He will help you find your mother.’

‘I’ll find work and when I’ve saved enough I’ll give it to you and then you won’t need to work so hard and you can pay one of
the boys to work in the paddy fields. Or I could find us a place and you and Granddad can come and live with me.’

‘Yes, yes,’ agreed Lada, but in her heart she knew she’d never leave the village and never see this darling girl again. Her only solace was in knowing she’d given Mei Li the chance to find her own people and that lecherous old Lankup wouldn’t enjoy her. Not ever.

‘I’ll miss you,’ said Mei Li.

‘Be careful,’ said Lada.

‘I will,’ Mei Li said, and tramped towards the forest, turning to wave every fifty metres.

‘I’ll miss you too,’ Lada whispered and sank to the floor. All the tears she hadn’t dare shed in Mei Li’s presence came pouring out and she wept for the loss of the granddaughter she loved.

B
Y MORNING.
M
EI
L
I WAS MILES AWAY FROM HER VILLAGE
.
Exhausted, she paddled the canoe into the shallows and dragged it up the bank. Too tired to eat, she lay down beneath a tree on the bank of the slow-moving river. She slept fitfully. Ever since she’d been a child she’d been frightened by cautionary stories of small children taken by man-eating crocodiles or enormous pythons, and she’d always been scared of swimming in the river or walking along lonely jungle tracks.

When she woke she sat on the edge of the bank and dipped her feet in the cool water. Fat frogs croaked and iridescent dragonflies whirred, competing for the humming mosquitoes flitting in the shallows. Overhead a hornbill screeched. Mei Li looked up and smiled. She always found the large-headed bird, with the long curved horn on top of its prominent bill, comical. As she watched, it took off, disturbing thousands of sleeping butterflies, hanging in clusters, from the branches of the tree. Within seconds the sky was filled with a dizzy mass of bright, twirling, turquoise-like, storm-tossed teal. On the other bank a group of naked children splashed playfully in the shallows. Mei Li waved to them, then dragged her canoe into the water and set off once more upstream.

When she looked back the butterflies had disappeared. The hornbill, a joke in repose yet majestic in flight, was racing back to its young, a newly hatched cobra wriggling from its horn
covered bill. The children had resumed their boisterous game, the encounter with the stranger quickly forgotten.