The Voyage of the Northern Magic by Diane Stuemer

Author:Diane Stuemer [Stuemer, Diane]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-55199-522-9
Publisher: McClelland & Stewart
Published: 2004-03-01T16:00:00+00:00

The next morning we were about to set off on another island exploration when a fishing boat approached us. Several of these had already stopped by to offer us fresh prawns or fish, but we weren’t keen on seafood and had reluctantly waved the friendly fishermen on. The difference this time was that unlike the others, this fisherman spoke English. His name was Kodah Chotung, and he proudly displayed a wallet full of the names of other yachties he had befriended over the years. His face was open and friendly, and soon he invited us to visit his home on a nearby island.

This was too good an offer to refuse. Herbert decided to stay behind, as we had heard reports of robbery in the bay, but the boys and I jumped into Kodah’s wooden longtail boat, joining his two partners, one of whom was crippled, as if from polio. This poor man could hardly walk and had to be dragged on and off the boat on the shoulders of the other man. Also sharing the boat with us was the day’s catch, about twenty bright blue crabs as well as a handful of small stingrays with their tails cut off. The crabs scuttled pathetically around our feet with their claws bound tight with bits of string. The baby stingrays, not much larger than dessert plates, were, mercifully, already dead, and they sloshed around in a few inches of water at our feet.

First, we stopped at a large tour boat. After a brief negotiation, our cargo of crabs was unloaded in exchange for a small handful of bills. Then we sped noisily around various ever-more beautiful islands towards the shallow edge of the bay and entered the mouth of a small muddy river, passing many fish traps and small fish farms. As the river began to peter out, we tied up at a crowded dock at an island village of 250 fishermen and their families, all of whom owned long, slender, brightly painted wooden boats virtually identical to the one on which we had arrived.

This was a Muslim village, something of a surprise because Thailand is predominantly Buddhist. Just as before, we were greeted with smiling faces as we walked through the village, helping to forever banish our earlier misconception of Thais as being unfriendly. Kodah brought us to his sparsely furnished small home, where his dignified wife was caring for their year-old son. The baby was asleep, hanging from the corrugated steel ceiling in a small hammock made from a sarong; their other two children were at school. As we entered the house, several other people from the village gathered and watched us with unabashed interest.

I had brought a little bag of small gifts, and it was tremendous fun to see the women inspect the things I had brought: small soaps, lipstick, some treats, a colouring book and crayons. They examined the preserved guava from Malaysia and the little Indonesian jello cups carefully before accepting them, making sure they were halal, or suitable for Muslims to eat.

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