A Fishermen's Friends

Archive Entry

The shadow of the half-finished statue looms over the isle. When the midday sun beat down, I would rest here with the five me who worked on the statue.

We shared my catch of batang fish. They never said a word, only smiled and nodded. So, I filled the silence by talking about my wife and four children.

At first, I refused their gifts for the fish. But, when my sails or nets wore out, they had fresh ones. When my little one had trouble eating, they offered fresh temulawak herbs. I began to rely on them.

One day, I arrived and not a soul was there. Never seen them since. I questioned every fisherman, sailor and rogue I met. They’d shoot me dark looks and say the isle’s been abandoned for years. I stopped asking.

I’ve gotten used to mending my own sails again. But some habits stick with you. Every midday, I come by and leave some fish behind. When I return the next day, only the bones remain.