I’m Sarawakian

**This is a work of fiction. But do think about it.**

 He loved to go fishing on weekdays. His favorite fishing spot, which are undoubtedly a favorite for many anglers, were usually crowded on weekends. More so, the fishes do seem to consider the weekends as their day off as well. So weekends were usually ‘too many men, so little fish’. And so that solidified his Mondays as fishing days.


Thanks to him owning a so-called Irish pub in uptown Kuching. Pub goers usually thinned out on Sundays and Mondays were pretty dreadful for an average working guy. Yet for him, Mondays are his personal weekends…and so here he is, with his fishing gear, walking toward the river bank, to his own personal spot under some shady trees.

That when he saw her. Sitting there, black cap, dark blue worn T shirt, Capri shorts, a fishing pole on her lap and a half smoke cigarettes dangling from her lips. Somewhere, inside him, was annoyed that his spot was taken. But then again, nobody own the riverbank and nobody actually own the dry grassy spot under the shady trees.

He should go, really, and look for another spot. It wouldn’t be too much of a trouble and he could still enjoy the solitude of fishing without unnecessary yammering from a stranger. Who apparently seem to enjoy HIS favorite spot.

“Hi.”

He blinked. The woman turned to him, fishing pole still on her lap and her cigarette between her right fingers as she leaned back to look at him. He noticed now. Her eyes are dark brown. Her skin fair but also quite tanned. Probably an outdoor person, he mused.  

“Oh hi.”    

 “Looking for a spot?”

- Yeah, found it and you’re sitting there.-

“It’s nice here. A really good spot.” She smiled then. Quite warmly.

- I know. -

 He smiled back, keeping his thoughts to himself.

“Join me here. “

He pondered for a while but then he decided there and then that nothing should dampen his favorite ‘weekend’.

“Okay, hope you don’t mind.” Even as he spoke, he walked and set his things about two feet away from her gear. She just threw him another smile and turned back towards the river.

-Quite type. Good.-

He set his fishing rods, hooked his baits, and swung his rod with a practiced move. It reached quite far into the river and he believed his move was flawless. Not that he ever bothered before. But having a spectator can be quite distressing.

Yet the woman doesn’t show any reaction to his throw. And it irked him somehow. And it irked him that he even bothered at all.

He had always preferred solitude but a woman who does not talk was a little bit disturbing. Sitting not so far from her, he glanced at the silent woman. She looked like in her early forties but she dressed casually and he noticed an orange plastic band that says ‘Beliebers 4 Eva’ on her left wrist.

“Yú?” Referring to her small pail by her side, wondering she had caught something. Well, it is better than not saying anything.

“I can’t speak Mandarin.” She just turned to him for a second with a small smile and the turned back to watch whatever that seems to interest her more.

“You’re not Chinese?” He asked. She was quite fair so he thought she was Chinese.

“No. I’m Sarawakian.”

He chuckled. Yes, that was pretty obvious.

“That’s not what I meant really. I’m Chinese, by the way.” He knew that she knew he is Chinese. Nobody had ever mistaken him for any other race. He got the eyes, the skin, and the occasional red puffiness when he had too much Guinness.     

“Oh. When the last time you went back to China?”

If he were drinking Guinness at that time, he would cough it out. Probably, to her face. Oh God, please don’t tell him that a racist is sitting on his favorite fishing spot.

“No, I’m from Sarawak too. But I’m Chinese.”

She did not look at him but there was a sudden tilt to her head as if she was pondering on what he was saying.

“Which part of China you came from?”

There should be a dozen reasons why he should be irritated right now and a dozen more ways he could have answered her but he just gritted his teeth.

“I don’t know. As I say, I’m from Sarawak.”

The woman then turned to him. “Then why are you not Sarawakian?”

He stared at her and she looked back, as if her question was the most common sense question that had ever been asked before. Which was, right then, is the most common sense question anybody had asked him.Well, at least, on Monday, right at his favorite fishing spot.

It was his turn to look at the large expanse of the flowing river.

“I’m Sarawakian too.” And he is, Sarawak is his home. Had always been his home but sometimes he wonder whether others would rather kick him away to Canada or UK.

“Oh, that’s good.”

He didn’t have to glanced back to know that she had once again gave her attention to her small float attached to her rod. That what he thought she was looking at anyway. Which was again quite strange as she was fishing in a flowing river and not a still lake. Maybe the float was special. It does not seem to bob like the usual float used for sedentary fishing.

“I’m also Bidayuh. You?”

He was not annoyed anymore. There was a small smile quirking on his lips.

“I’m also Foochow.”

“Interesting. There was a small region in China named FuZhou.”

“Never been there.”

“Don’t go back there.”

“No. I won’t.”

That was their last conversation for an hour. Somehow, he fell into the easy solitude of fishing. Though there was this silent Bidayuh woman beside him, he didn’t feel like his Monday had gone wrong. In fact, somewhere inside his overactive brain, he felt there would be something he should be thinking about for the rest of his weeks.

“Yú”

“What?”

“Fish.” He pointed at her float being dragged slowly against the river flow. So, she wasn’t looking at her float after all. Not that he would ask what she had been looking at.

She lifted her fishing rod from her lap and stood up as her fingers clutched the reel. Her shadow fell on him and he couldn’t but notice the glaring orange ‘Beliebers 4 Eva’ on her wrist. Yet he also noticed her smile. Warm as the sun above them. Tanning her fair skin into darker shade of brown. The color of the land that held their identities, lineage, and bloodlines.

“Hmph…Yú” She was still smiling as she reeled in her catch of the day.