The Journey Back

The Letter

The horn blown from the boat echoed in the village. It was leaving any moment and Raza hurried after Uncle Macky. A motorcycle with its driver, cousin Hemi, waited for them. It wasn’t that far but their bags were quite heavy to haul all the way to the pier. The farewells had taken quite a while. Everybody wanted to embrace or kiss him; even Uncle Macky didn’t escape that. And now they were running out of time. The motorcycle’s engine roared in answer to the boat’s signal. The three of them rode without helmets and somehow Raza was not a bit concerned about it. He had his bag on his lap and he was sandwiched between the driver and Uncle Macky who had his bag slung on his shoulder. The motorcycle stopped before the wooden part of the pier and they got down. Uncle Macky shook hands with Hemi and thanked him.

They practically raced to the boat along with other villagers who were trying to catch the morning trip too. They were relieved the captain had waited a little bit more and finally they climbed up the boat. Raza scanned the row of houses from where he was sitting and saw his grandparent’s little compound. He squinted at the faces of those standing on the boardwalk very open from where he was. His cousins, older and younger stood there to see him off. His aunts and uncles whose names he couldn’t remember much and of course his Grandpa and Grandma also joined the farewell. Grandpa’s boats were bobbing in front of them. They waved at him and he waved back. He saw a figure approach its edge and he squinted more. The figure waved too and he realized who it was—Jamil. He wasn’t there when Raza left. Nevertheless, Raza waved back.

The engine came alive and after a few minutes of preparations for the departure here and there by men who knew already the things to be done, the boat slowly at first skimmed the waters. Raza waved a last goodbye to everyone back there and they did too, and then as the boat gained speed, everyone got smaller and smaller until they were nowhere in sight.

He slouched on the hard bench. He opened his bag which was on the floor near his feet. He found some snacks which Grandma had thoughtfully put in there so that he would have something to eat during the trip—not to mention she thoughtfully washed his laundry and packed his bag. He munched on the homemade biscuits and offered it to Uncle Macky who declined because he was still full.

“Excuse me,” said a raspy voice. Raza looked up. “Yes?” The man gave him a white envelope. He looked at him questioningly. “What’s this?”

“Give you,” said the man and Raza got suddenly confused. He took Raza’s hand and stuffed the envelope in his hand then he went to his corner to seat.

Raza turned over the envelope and weighted it. It didn’t feel like it was more than paper. He opened it and lifted out a piece of paper and unfolded it.

Assalaamu ‘alaykum Raz,

          By now you may have left the island already. I hope we could talk more but we don’t have the luxury of time. You know what, I’m very proud of you. I thought you would be such a spoiled brat and that we wouldn’t be close even if I wanted to. I’m just so happy that the city life hadn’t changed what is good in you. You will be coming back to your real home now but I hope you would never forget us. Come back here, any time you want to. I know you said you may never come back but even just once in ten years, we’re not asking much. Just visit our grandparents before they even get too old to recognize their grandchildren. I may one day visit you in Singapore, who knows. I also want to work there. Anyway, what I’m trying to say is I’m just here. I know we can’t exchange numbers but come on, it’s the 21st century. I’ll just add you up on Facebook or something. Tell Baba I love him and tell your mom thanks for every support she’s giving Baba when it comes to me. And thank you for being such a good friend.

Love,

Jam

Raza held the letter tight and held back his tears. He folded it and placed it back to the envelope. He noticed there was something inside aside from paper and he held it up. It was a picture. His mother, younger, was holding about a year old baby in her arms. Beside her, his father was cradling a little kid on his lap. His mother and father were both smiling wide while the baby was oblivious of the world and the little kid had a sort of frown on his face like he was uncomfortable. Raza stroked it with his thumb and thought that was probably the time when his father brought him and his mother to the island to meet his family and when his mother finally met Jamil. He had seen a few childhood pictures of his father and Raza realized he looked just like Jamil in that picture. He felt tears prickled behind his eyes. He faced the sea and the wind swept coolly around him as he covered his eyes with his hand as if he was having headache then surreptitiously wiped what remained of the tears that ran slowly on his cheeks.