Swordfight in Phuket

He’d been traveling for more than a week since leaving Lake Toba, Sumatra. He’d taken the slow bus up to Medan, jumped on a plane for the quick hop over to Penang, and then hitched rides all the way down Malaya to Singapore.

After a few days in Singapore he got back on the road and hitched up to Butterworth, where he caught a train to Haad Yai. From there, he took a local bus to Phuket.

By the time he arrived on the paradise island he was beat. All he wanted was somewhere to lay his weary head and relax. He planned to head down to the southern end of the island to Nai Harn beach. He’d heard it was a good place for travelers like him.

Arriving in Phuket Town, he looked around. Nothing much to see really. A row of dilapidated shophouses with typical Chinese-style shops opening out onto the street looked depressing. A statue of what looked like three male warriors, until he looked a bit closer, dominated the central crossroad near where the bus had dropped him off. The statues had tits!

He’d have to find out the story behind that some day, but right now he had to figure out how to get to Nai Harn beach.

There weren’t any backpackers around he could ask, and every time he tried to talk to a local he got a blank stare or an embarrassed giggle. Finally, he met an old Thai-Chinese man who understood him. A local bus would be along soon that would take him to the beach.

Jim sat down on a bench outside the bus station and thought about his recent travels. The trip to Singapore had been almost surreal. The first ride he caught at Butterworth was a truck driven by a very black Tamil Indian. He was a nice enough bloke. Friendly, with white teeth that gleamed every time he grinned, which was often.

The driver introduced himself. “My name is Kumar. Where are you going?”

“I’m heading to Singapore.”

“Oh, I can only take you to Ipoh la!”

That was fine with Jim. He was glad to get a ride anywhere. Besides, he knew Ipoh. He’d been there years ago to play water polo for the Penang Swimming Club. He chuckled as he remembered that trip. He was in the Captain’s Karmann-Ghia when Karl remembered that he’d forgotten the championship cup.

“We’ll have to win the game now, Jim, or we’ll be very embarrassed if they ask us to present the cup to the other team!”

They did win, and to celebrate they had a big food fight after the game. What a mess. But no one cared. It was all good fun.

Kumar told him about his family, and asked Jim about himself.

“I am on my way to Singapore to pick up some money waiting for me there. Then I’m going up to Phuket to relax for a while.”

“Oh, you are so lucky man! I have to work. All us Indians have to work in Malaysia. Those damn Malays have all the political power, and the Chinese have all the money. We just get the shit work.”

Jim sympathized, but all he could do was shrug. He didn’t want tot get into a discussion about it. He knew the racial tensions in Malaysia still bubbled under the surface. He wouldn’t be surprised if they erupted again soon, like they had a few years ago after Malaysia gained independence from Britain. Old Abdhul Rahman was still the Prime Minister after all these years, and he still hadn’t resolved the race issue. Maybe they would never get over their differences. Who knew? Jim settled back into the hard truck seat and watched the miles roll by.

Finally, they arrived in Ipoh and Jim waved goodbye to Kumar.

He stuck his thumb out and within minutes a cream colored Mercedes pulled up beside him. He couldn’t believe his luck.

He climbed into the front seat and the Chinese driver introduced himself.

“Hello. I’m Sammy. Where are you going?”

“I’m headed for Singapore. How far are you going?”

“I can take you to Malacca. I have to go down there for a pig farmer’s conference. I run a pig farm just outside Ipoh.”

Jim nodded. At least Sammy didn’t smell like a pig farmer today. And he obviously did well. The Merc was almost brand new. It was nice to settle back into the comfortable leather seats.

Sammy liked to talk about his business, his family, and the state of the country.

“We Chinese have it very difficult here, you know la? The Malays have the political power, so they tax us hard. They are very jealous of our financial success. And they are very lazy. Then they expect the Indians to do all the dirty work so that they can live comfortably without working la!”

Jim smiled to himself. This was another side to the race story, wasn’t it?

They passed the Kuala Lumpur turnoff, and kept barreling down the road towards Malacca. After a two more hours they arrived in the center of the capital. Jim thanked Sammy as he got out of the car. It had been a pleasant, comfortable ride. But it was time to get back on the road as fast as possible. He wanted to get to Singapore tonight. He stuck his thumb out and almost immediately an old British Rover pulled up. It had definitely seen better days, but at least it was running.

Jim jumped into the passenger seat and introduced himself to the Malay driver. They drove in companionable silence for a few minutes, and then the driver asked him where he had come from. Jim told him about his journey down from Butterworth.

“Ah, those Chinese are dirty buggers.” The Malay exclaimed. “They breed their filthy pigs and make so much money. We poor Malays have no opportunities with them around. They are an abomination to Islam.”

“So, what about the Indians?” Jim asked, baiting his driver. “Surely they are much worse off than you Malays?”

“Ah, you don’t know what you are talking about. Those lazy Indians never do any work. They take the lowest jobs just so they don’t have to do much. And they complain all the time. We should never have brought their ancestors over here to work for us.”

Jim kept his mouth shut, but when they arrived at the causeway to Singapore in Johore Bahru, he couldn’t help himself any more. As he got out of the car he leaned down to thank his driver.

“Thanks for the ride mate. It’s been instructional. The Chinese pig farmer complained about the Malays and Indians. The Indian truck driver complained about the Chinese and the Malays. And now you have complained about the Chinese and the Indians. Don’t you all think it might be a good idea to try getting along instead?”

With that he left the startled Malay with his jaw hanging down. Jim caught his bus into the twilight.

He was jerked out of his reverie by a honking horn. A Baht bus had drawn up beside him. The sign on the side said Nai Harn Beach. He jumped in and settled down for the ride.

He arrived at the beach just as the sun was going down. He walked into a small shop next to the bus stop and sat down to order a Coke before heading for the beach.

Now, Cokes back in 1978 were four Baht. Jim handed over five Baht when the shop owner brought the bottle. Jim waited for his one Baht change, but the owner just gave him a smarmy smile and walked away.

Jim was in no mood for being treated like that. He stood up and called out to the shop owner.

“Hey, mate. Where’s me bloody change?”

The owner just turned around shook his head and said, “Mai mee.” Then he flashed that smarmy smile again.

Jim saw red. He knew it wasn’t the money. It was the way the bastard just assumed he could cheat a foreigner without any explanation.

He stood up, leaning on his swordstick. He’d bought it in Haad Yai at the local market. It was a nice, solid walking stick with a small button in the side. Push the button and draw out the sword. Jim had no intention of ever using the sword when he bought it.

“Give me my change you bastard!” he yelled.

The shopkeeper scurried behind the counter. Jim thought he was going to get the one Baht. But the next moment the shopkeeper jumped out brandishing a Thai sword.

Astonished, Jim jumped back, clicked the button, and drew out his sword. It was shorter than the Chinaman’s, but it had a lethal sharp point. He stood en guarde as the Chinaman moved towards him, waving his sword back and forth.

They closed. Their swords clashed together making a fine noise. Jim was forced back by the force of the attack. The Chinaman came after him. Jim jumped up on a stone table. The Chinaman swung at Jim’s feet. Jim jumped up and then landed back on the floor. They continued swinging and clashing but it was obvious neither of them was serious about inflicting any injuries.

Suddenly, Jim couldn’t help it. He started laughing. It was just like you saw in the movies. Two blokes swiping swords at each other. He was having a great old time.

The Chinaman started laughing too, and the next thing the two of them were slapping each other on the back. Jim sat down again and bought the Chinaman a beer. They toasted each other as they grinned at each other. The couldn’t talk to each other, but the two of them understood what was going on between them any way.

Jim left the Chinaman to go to the beach, but each day he returned to share a beer with the Chinaman for as long as he stayed at Nai Harn beach.