M
y body aches and I attempt to relieve my right side. The weight lies on my right leg while we walk toward the restaurant to meet the other two travel companions.
My worry produces thoughts expressed in words:
“But honestly, Janek, is it such a good idea I go on this boat trip? I mean, crossing the Indian ocean in a sailboat where I am expected to be helpful on board, which I might not be able to manage in my somewhat invalided condition… and will it really only take seven to ten days?”
“Oh, quit worrying!” he interrupts and takes my bag.
“There won’t be any problems at all and you’ll be able to take it as easy as you like, fish, read books, swim… well, what more could one wish for when one needs resting after an accident? And besides, it’s too late to back out now as I’m dependent on you paying for your place on the boat.”
His words still do not provide the reliance and the trust I desire.
My thoughts to pay for the journey without going with them are cut short when Janek whistles loudly.
A thin silhouette with blond dreadlocks hobbles out of a tuktuk taxi and commences unloading suitcases, cloth bags and what appears to be a guitar wrapped up in a purple batik shawl.
Janek sighs and whistles again.
“If there’s anyone I’m worried about bringing on this trip, it’s that guy.”
He nods toward the taxi.
“Hi, Bo, nice you found your way here and I see you’ve taken half your household with you.”
Janek points with his whole hand down at all the cases and bags lying in a pile on the ground.
“Yes, it’s ironic I’ve collected so much during the years I’ve been travelling, despite the trip’s purpose to free me from as much ‘unnecessary baggage’ as possible.”
He laughs and takes a drink of water from his bottle.
“I hope I have everything with me on the list you sent.” he continues and scratches his scalp between his dreads.
“What list? What are we supposed to have with us?”
My voice is cut off by Janek.
“We ought to go up to the restaurant before Nora wonders where we’ve disappeared to.”
He nods toward the harbour and an open-air café surrounded by green bamboo.
Nora… during a period a few years ago I became interested in the meaning of names and how people seem to identify so strongly with their name, or with their names. At a time, we, for some reason, preferably should have more than one name, at least two or three.
I remember Nora is an Arabian name and means ‘light’.
A dog brushes restlessly round us, stops and sniffs my broken toe but soon loses interest and limps on.
Thai pop music can be heard from in the restaurant which is being cleaned by the staff.
The tables outdoors are empty except for one dark-haired, newly barbered person in jeans and a blue and white striped sweater, resting in a hammock.
They got up, walked to us and presented themselves to Bo and me.
This turned out to be Nora, whose hand and warm brown eyes made me relax for the first time since I left the island and Duangkamol this morning.
My familiar, nagging pain distances itself a moment.
Pale green bamboo leaves rattle in a puff of wind. It touches my face. I remove my cap and let the wind blow my head and hair.
It awakens something sleeping within.
It awakens my faith in life.
For faith sails me through oceans where logic has failed.