The Timor Man (32 page)

Memories of earlier visits came flooding back as Coleman began to unwind and accept the tranquil atmosphere and ocean air. During his tour he had made several trips to this beautiful resort area.

Once, he reminisced, Stephen had joined with a group from the embassy and hired a bungalow during one long weekend. He had encouraged them to experience the fresh seafood served at this restaurant and, after lunch, they had ventured down to the fish market and witnessed fisherman returning with their catch.

The group were enjoying themselves until one of the Australian girls had cried out in dismay. The inexperienced traveller had wandered off ahead of the others and now stood with both hands held close to her mouth in surprise.

Immediately in front of where she stood a fisherman had taken a long sharp knife and, brandishing the glistening blade was preparing to butcher a porpoise. Imediately, a shout of protest arose from the onlookers causing the bewildered fisherman to pause in his action. Eventually he was persuaded to sell the mammal at a good price to one of the foreigners who asked that it be thrown back into the sea whole. The old and very poor fisherman, now joined by several of his own villagers instantly agreed, not understanding why these naive Westerners differentiated between dolphins and the abundant big game fish found in the oceans.

Stephen had no doubts in his mind that once they'd departed the porpoise would have ended up in its original predicament and perhaps in the villager's cooking pot that very same afternoon.

 

During the first days Stephen walked the beaches, clearing his mind of everything except the life around him. He sat with the fisherman discussing winds, tides and weather, and told stories of great storms and winds which often endangered the villages there. Stephen found that he could sit for hours listening to their simple stories of exaggerated catches and tales of sharks so great that even a coracle was once swallowed whole by one of these monsters. He found that the smell of the salt air, the innocence of these hospitable coastal people, and the abundance of coconut trees swaying together on the long white sandy beaches, simply idyllic, and wondered why he had not returned before this. Huge Indian Ocean waves thundered down onto the black volcanic rocks strewn across the shallow reaches, sending claps of thunderous applause at their own mighty strength when they then smashed against the tall cliffs surrounding the hotel, as he strolled along the white sandy beaches. He often found broken remains of swordfish bills strewn along the sandy coast, evidence of the mighty fish which were often captured unwittingly in the fishermen's net, their last dying efforts to thrash their way to freedom ripping the precious nets forever. Stephen enjoyed his stay more than he could have imagined. The simplicity of the people and their surrounds brought an inner peace he had not felt before.

A week passed and Stephen reluctantly called Jakarta. Walters' office continued to act as a conduit for any message traffic as a matter of professional courtesy. The First Secretary was not available however his assistant informed Coleman that he had received an invitation for the previous weekend. She apologized then explained that the telephone connection to Pelabuhan Ratu had been difficult and she had therefore been unable to inform him of the dinner arrangements.

“
I did manage to have a letter sent to their house, expressing apologies on your behalf, Tuan Coleman,
” the efficient woman advised.

“
That was very kind of you
,” was all Stephen could say, not remembering her name. She had not considered it necessary nor prudent to inform the Sedas that she had been unable to contact the
tuan
.

He was surprised when he'd discovered that the personal invitation had been sent by General Seda's charming wife.

“W
ould you please advise the General that I am not in Jakarta and don't expect to return for some weeks?
”

“
Certainly, tuan. I will phone immediately.
”

Coleman thanked her again, not wanting to be stuck there in the lobby waiting for hours to be connected to the Seda household to speak directly to them when the assistant could connect easily through local dialling. He hung up and hurried to the waiting Toyota Corolla anxious to get underway. The lobby staff waved as he departed, impressed with the Australian's fluency in their tongue. The receptionist went immediately to the communications room and typed a telex which, due to the shared lines suffering continuous delay difficulties, did not arrive at its destination until the following afternoon. The communications clerk at BAKIN headquarters had explicit instructions which he followed upon receiving the message.

He passed it to Major Umar Suharjo.

 

The road from the narrow coast rose sharply as it wound its way through the range of volcanic mountains. The soil was rich, providing a lush green countryside of terraced rice fields bathing in the tropical sun. The terraces, stacked one upon another, reached to almost impossible heights. Small streams of life-giving water flowed gently from one paddy to another, maintaining just enough velocity to run from one field to the next. Banana trees grew in abundance shading the village shanty dwellers who lived alongside the pot-holed road.

Stephen passed occasional teams of workers, their lungs exhausted from the toxic fumes generated from heating the two-hundred-litre drums of asphalt to be poured by hand along the road. The weary men waved as he passed slowly, calling for cigarettes or money for food. As the car struggled slowly uphill they often encounted these sun scorched men, their clothes in tatters and their feet burnt from the hot tar they had just laid. Stephen instructed the driver to slow down even more so that he could hand these desolate souls a packet of cigarettes, or a few Rupiah. They always smiled and waved, even when they received nothing from the occasional passing vehicles.

The mountainous road climbed for an hour before they arrived at Sukabumi and although the main street was alive with the morning market activity, he continued through to Bandung, the city of endless students.

Stephen spent only a few days visiting the provincial capital again. As nothing much seemed to have changed apart from the Savoy Hoyman's menu and the introduction of a sleazy disco in an adjacent alley, he left the garden city. He was feeling a little disappointed with the lack of real change or progress that he had witnessed in Jakarta.

Stephen travelled through off-road and well hidden villages, examined the mighty temple, Borobudur, and even Candi Mendut, finally coming to rest in the hills just short of the east Javanese provincial capital of Surabaya.

 

He was now into his third week back in-country and discovered to his delight that he was enjoying himself immensely. He had rented an old Dutch Colonial plantation villa which overlooked the valley below. The air was cool and filled with the scent of flowers which grew only at these altitudes. A tea plantation lay spread out like some gigantic green carpet covering the slopes, providing endless pleasure as he sat on the terrace, watching the rows of women move slowly through the bushes, picking the small shoots, careful to maintain the flat level appearance of the tree thereby guaranteeing the continuous growth of the sweeter leaves. This small hill station area had been built for the exclusive use of the former colonial masters. Situated an hour's drive from the city of Surabaya, it was the weekend destination venue for those who wished to seek relief from the heat and humidity of the dusty port. Since Independence, little had changed here with the exception of a few new walls and a small dance-cum-disco bar situated inside the lobby of the dilapidated hotel.

Each morning he walked down to the vegetable markets, purchased several of the small bitter apples and wandered back slowly taking in the vibrant colours of the commercially grown flowers. Twice he had ventured into the hotel's bar and spent most of the evening being entertained by the young girls who were only too eager for his company.

And his Rupiah.

The second evening he took two of the hostesses back to his villa, where the young girls took turns playing and splashing around in the cast iron bathtub filled with steaming hot water, as they had never had the opportunity before and, he guessed, would probably not have again. Stephen was delighted with their frolics. When they appeared from the ensuite bathroom robed only in towels and cheeky grins, he led them to the large four-poster bed and, removing the hand made quilt, undressed then slid in between the soft brown bodies. They giggled and talked then made love then afterwards, called for food from passing vendors before splashing around some more in the ancient tub until Stephen finally fell asleep, exhausted by their energy and effervescence. When he awoke in the morning they were gone.

They hadn't taken anything. And he remembered not giving them any money. He decided to return that night and present them with a gift for providing him with the happiest experience he'd known for too long a time. He laughed remembering their antics and was still smiling when the
jongus
appeared with the traditional thick cup of Java coffee and a small plate of strong cheese and chocolates for his breakfast. He had nothing to be ashamed of and was surprised at just how relaxed he was considering the lack of sleep.

Sitting on the patio of the magnificent bungalow admiring the scenery and enjoying the mood, Stephen Coleman made a decision. He felt at peace in this incredible country. He experienced a feeling of release; a cleansing, and closure.

The memory of Louise was still there, but he no longer felt the sadness which had plagued him over the past two years. He was alive. He would always remember their brief and loving affair as he believed she would have wanted him to. He had not dwelt on her reasons for leaving him on that fateful day.

As for the shooting incident, he decided that too must be placed in perspective with the choices he now made. He understood that it would be impossible to be comfortable with the dramatic changes he was about to undertake should his mind still be clouded by the shadows of his past. Like so many other questions that couldn't be answered he decided to now cast these negative aspects of his life away, and start afresh.

Coleman decided to remain in the archipelago. He realized that this decision had been in the making ever since he had regained his health. Reasonably conservative by nature, Coleman examined the motivation for his decision and conceded that he had been influenced by some magnetic pull which had always been there, tugging away until he surrendered to its mystical power. He spoke the language as well as most locals and believed that his funds would be sufficient to survive for at least a reasonable period. He was pleased with himself, but resigned to the fact that others would not be exactly supportive of his decision.

Collecting his thoughts, Stephen spent the following days composing letters to his family, Albert and of course, a telex to his superiors in the Department. Although he dispatched these from the central Surabaya post office. Coleman also decided to request access to the Embassy's communication channels to advise John Anderson directly and personally of his decision. He telexed the carefully worded message disguising the main gist of the text and addressee's name. This was a relatively simple procedure all field operatives used when obliged to utilize unreliable postal and telegraph services. The message was sent from Surabaya to Jakarta's main post office and then picked up by an embassy driver when running the hourly check for incoming telexes. This in turn was re-routedvia Walter'soffice asthere wasno overseaslink fromthis eastern provincial capital.

Stephen addressed his resignation to the Head of the Department who, in this instance, was the Minister for External Affairs. He knew that it would reach its correct destination once the Minister had read the communiqué. Stephen realized that he would be required to return to Australia, however briefly, to tidy up loose ends and sit down with his mentor, John Anderson. He was not looking forward to that meeting as he knew how disappointed the Director would be when he realized Coleman could not be dissuaded from his decision to resign.

These thoughts occupied his mind as he boarded the Garuda flight for the short hop across to Bali. Having now made these decisions and informed his department he felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off his shoulders, unshackling him for the future, and from his past. Stephen smiled in anticipation with the thought of relaxing at the Segara Village Resort before heading up to the cultural delights of Ubud.

He didn't wish to stay at the Bali Beach. Now that he had finally managed to come to terms with Louise's death he felt it would be better not to stay where they had shared her last evening together. He said his farewell and didn't need to resurrect old ghosts. He wanted a fresh start.

As he drove from the airport Coleman noticed little change here as well. He was pleased. It was unfortunate that progress would come to this beautiful island and he, like many others, wished that day was still far into the future. He checked into the traditionally designed hotel bungalow resort and was presented with the customary welcome coconut cocktail, a combination of rice wine and coconut milk which the staff often spiced with a touch of gin or rum.

Coleman failed to notice the man watching him complete the required registration procedures at the reception desk. All foreigners were required to register when moving around the country, particularly at hotels or guest houses. These alien registration forms were collected each evening by the local police and the data telexed immediately to their headquarters for further dissemination.