13.1 Under the Influence

“They call me ‘nigger’ because I have a spiralled curly hair,” complained Mannan, “I’m not black! I’m not brown! Look at me! I am much lighter toned!” He waved his arms, hands bandaged, trying to convince the white shirt investigator, “He spat on my face!

“An angered mob of Filipinos running around and pulling the local guys in their cabins below, beating and stabbing. We can’t understand what they are saying. I heard this Captain Hiroshi don’t like them and less like the Maldivian folk. He tries to keep a balance! We did not know they were in such a bad situation in strike mode.

“We have seen fights, gangs use leather belts and bicycle chains, Bruce Lee thing…but knives!

“I was terrified. He could have killed me with the knife. This shirtless Pinoy! They will not hesitate to kill a guy. In that moment when the light went out, in the blind blackout, he was standing next to me. That was the most terrifying moment for me.

“When I began to see a thing, I could not see the girl in my room. She ran down the corridor skimming in the smoke. There’s no other way out! I climbed out of the hatch. It was latched from the inside.”

“Nobody could see any girl when the lights went out,” said the investigator, “only those on the deck could be seen under the moon.”

“I saw the moon hidden behind the clouds,” said Mannan, “When I fell, I hit my back somewhere and threw me to land face down on top of those cardboard boxes. I broke my back. The spinal cord. The kid-bone!”

“Huh!” chuckled the investigator, “Have courage! You will walk and you will make babies. You can fix your kid-bone.”

“I am broken in thirteen parts. Four ribs broken in seven places, my fingers, right knee, right ankle, right shoulder, right clavicle, left leg tibia, all broken.

“I could not move, I could not breathe, I could not bring out my voice. It was not just pain. I was blocked inside. More than pain, I was unable to breathe. But I did turn over and I saw the moon through the hatch. It must be around twelve.”

“Twelve fifty-seven.”

“How do you know?”

“Moonrise was six fifty-seven on the twenty-first of June,” replied the investigator, “and the longest day in the summer solstice.”

“For me it was the most painful day,” continued Mannan, “heavy pain. I remember seeing a red sky before I fainted.”

With the first flare that lit the sky, Muaz pulled his head between the canvas and observed. A fireball that lit the clouds in deep red. He glanced behind, the capital sleeping peacefully, streetlights lit the white walls and a dark mountain of trees looming behind. Light reflected on water. There stood a sentry armed with a rifle in front of the President’s Office watching the light in the sky but what could he do. He could not yell, he could not run, he could not inform anyone. Another flare ignited in the sky. He noticed a small island-like cargo vessel on the horizon with cranes and booms.

“What is the time?” A thin naked girl popped her bare shoulders between the canvas.

“One forty-five,” he replied.

“Oops! I am late! I must go home!” she cried, “My dad will be back! You said twelve…”

“Watch the sky!”

“What is that?”

“It is an emergency signal. That boat is signalling for help.”

“Don’t they have a walkie-talkie?”

“Maybe not,” he turned back to look at the island capital and flung in full height, “Get dressed! Hurry up! We must get out of here before those people flock at the waterfront to watch the fireworks.”

“A-a! Now you want to hurry!”

“Come on!”

“I’m full of salt. I need to touch some water.”

“Not now.”

“Where is my dress?”

“Here.”

She pulled on her blue top and little red panties, slipped on those black jelly shoes. Muaz jumped into the Fletcher. Firasha hung her legs and Muaz lowered the girl. He untied the moor, fired the engine and quickly reduced the noise. They moved away from the motorised yacht on which they secretly spent two hours. It was moored in the inlet harbour in front of the CTA office. Nobody from his office should see him on the Fletcher or on the yacht. He even tied his little craft on the opposite side of the yacht so that pedestrians on the road could not see. Muaz took her to the yacht around eleven-forty-five and both took a bathe in the water. It was too cold so they climbed.  On a first date, Firasha agreed to remove her clothes and jump into water without a second thought.

Two more fireballs lit the sky repetitiously. The Fletcher reached the jetty and a stroller lent a hand to get her up on the platform. People were gradually gathering by the waterfront.

He turned the boat towards the promenade and grabbed a cleat, drove his rope and tied up. Muaz jumped on the promenade and joined his girl.

They faded into the narrow lane. “What is wrong with that ship?” he still wondered.

“Let’s go!” she put on the helmet.

Soon they kicked off and arrived at Ranaka Inn. The orange garden lights, lobby in dim light and nobody at the counter. They entered the room and the girl quickly removed her blue top. They rushed to the public bath and got under the tap. Washed away the salt from their bodies and returned to the room. Patted dry hastily. She did not even bring a comb. She tossed her legs into the georgette and slipped on her SES uniform. Dropped the blue dress into her paper bag.

She came out of the gate and felt itches on her breast, “I put on my dress inside out! The badge has gone in! I can’t go home this way!”

“Come on! No time to correct yourself.”

Shortly, they reached Majeedi Magu and the girl dismounted. She walked from there to Mesquite with wet hair.