Sea of solace

Sea of solace

Sri Mulyanti Goenawan

It is our life; it has been for generations but now it has
brought death.

We always knew to respect it. At times, for sure, we lived in
fear of it and understood its power and the potential it had to
bring destruction and even death. Sometimes heavy storms would
lash the waves up against the rocks on our beaches. Sometimes
trees would fall and be carried out to sea like toothpicks but
always our menfolk would return to their boats and ships.

It was inevitable that my sons would join their father sailing
on the ships we call pinisi. They grew up in the shadow of these
ships as they were being built. They grew up with their father so
often away at sea. He would come home to tell them stories about
his voyages to all the islands of Indonesia. He would bring them
toys and mementos, and it was only a matter of time before they
joined him on his voyages.

Their father worked hard, he was proud to continue the sea-
faring traditions of the Bugis people and his ambition was to
have his own ship built -- to be his own captain. It literally
took years for him to build it. As our sons grew old enough, they
would help their father in its construction. When he was home he
worked tirelessly on his ship and I spent hours watching them
work together.

I would bring them juice to take away their thirst as they
shaved the planks of timber that gradually made the ship take
shape. I would weave the thatch that we placed over the ship to
keep the rain out as it gradually took shape and became a sea-
faring vessel.

Our sons were too young too sail with their father when he
started building that ship, but as the ship took shape and became
worthy of taking to the seas, so too did our sons take shape and
become strong young men ready to take their place, with pride,
alongside their father.

The ship was a wonder to see, and it was also a wonder to see
our sons become young men, ready to become sailors under the
watchful eye of their father who was to be their captain.
Finally, after so many months of hard work, the ship was ready to
be launched.

As is our tradition, the ship was launched with great
celebrations. Everyone in our village came along and helped drag
the ship from the beach down into the sea.

Our joy was unrestrained as the ship finally bobbed on the
waves. On the day of the launch, the sea was remarkably calm. In
fact it was almost as if the sea did not want to receive the
ship. The men hauling on the ropes to get the ship afloat had to
toil for a long, long time just to get the ship sufficiently away
from the shore and into deeper water.

A strange feeling came over me as I watched the launching;
somehow something did not seem right. Even though I saw the
great enthusiasm on the faces of all of the villagers as they
struggled to get the ship out onto the water; even though I saw
the great excitement in the hearts and minds of my two sons as
they worked alongside their father; even though I saw the great
determination and pride in the face of my husband -- I felt
terribly uneasy.

I felt as though a terrible mistake was being made.

In the days before the ship's maiden voyage, I tried to
convince myself that my sense of unease was just because I knew
that it was just a matter of days before not only my husband
would be away at sea for long periods of time but also my two
sons would be gone with him also.

I had grown used to not having my husband with me for long
periods of time, but now I faced the prospect of not even having
my two sons with me as well. These thoughts ran over and over in
my mind as my husband and his crew including my sons did their
final preparations of the ship.

Anchored just off shore, the ship was consistently visited to
finalize the preparations for that maiden voyage. Small leaks
were patched up; final adjustments were made to the sails and to
the smoky engine which would drive the ship from island to island
carrying its cargoes of food supplies and timber. There were
days when I did go out to the ship also.

I could not help but admire the wonder of the ship built so
skillfully from timbers throughout. As I approached the ship in a
small fishing boat the beauty of the shape and the curve of the
bow as it gently rose and fell upon the calm waters just off our
shores seemed to reassure me.

The ship looked so right in the water, as it was being built
it seemed cumbersome; it seemed like some monolithic monster
sitting on land when it should have been in the water. Now as it
gently rode the waves of the waters near to our village the ship
looked right, looked ready to sail and I felt reassured.

But I suppose it is true looks can be deceptive. On the day
that they set off on their maiden voyage, I wept for my sons and
for my husband. I had, of course, said my goodbyes many times
before but this time I was saying goodbye to the three closest
men to me in my life. Some of the villages understood my tears
but others, I know, spoke about me behind my back, saying that I
was being overemotional.

It was only eleven days later that I was to be emotional
again. But this time nobody could accuse me of being
overemotional. The ship's maiden voyage was only to be a short
trip between the islands of Sulawesi. My husband, the proud
captain of the ship, declared that in his new ship the voyage
would take only four days. So when the fifth, sixth, seventh and
eighth days came and went, our fears began to increase.

Then on the eleventh day the dreaded news came. One of the
other ships from our village had followed the route of my
husband's ship. News came of a terrible storm that had wreaked
havoc on this shipping route. Debris had been washed ashore and
the conclusion was that the ship and all hands on her hand been
lost. My husband and my two sons were gone.

I wept for days. I looked out at the sea with anger for I knew
that it was a sea of death and yet it was the sea of life. It had
brought life for my family but now it had taken them away.
Somehow, I felt that when we tried to launch the ship it was
trying to speak to me, trying to tell me that the ship should not
sail, for something was not ready, something was not right.

I look out to sea now but I have no more anger. I simply look
for solace in the sea.