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.