A Story - "Let Me See"

A story inspired by an article in The Star about a fisherman gone blind.

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LET ME SEE



His hands, callused from years of mending and scarred from numerous pricks from the sea. He moved slowly along the house, still not used to groping his way around his own house. He was glad it was a gradual process, giving him time to adapt to the inevitable.

He heard his eldest boy shouting in the yard, "Ibu! Tina kencing in her pants again!"

He continued his mending of his net, feeling his way around, through the many skills passed down from his grandfather to his father, he steadily concentrated on his task. He only had another 1 hours to finish his job. He waited for the familiar footsteps.

The wooden floorboards creaked as she walked past him. She must have come from the kitchen. She smelt of wood smoke.

He heard her gently smacked his youngest daughter's bum for having urinated in her pants and Tina cried - whether from the pain of the smack or from the shame of peeing in her pants, he could not know.

"Have you finished the net?", said a gentle voice by his ear. "Dinner's ready in ten minutes."

He nodded and felt for the hook behind him, to indicate where he last stopped. He will have to continue it after he satiated his rumbling stomach.

He knew there would be fish. He's been eating fish since the day he could chew and he has never got bored of the taste of fish. He also knew there would be fish because he caught them himself this morning.

He used to go out on his own, hours before the sun woke up, and took his boat out to the huge imposing sea.

"You have to respect the sea." He used to say. "Respect the sea and she will respect you."

He never urinated into the sea before. He always had a container for such a purpose. Something that his father and grandfather had done. He followed.

Those days when he went out alone was gone. He would wake up to the alarm clock beeping and wash his face, while his wife made some coffee and breakfast to bring out to the sea. He would walk to the boat to make sure that all is ready. His wife would join him with the coffee and breakfast, placed in a rattan basket.

Together, they would push the boat out to sea. She would tell him which direction to push. She would describe the sea to him - her colour, her texture, her moods and emotions. She has become his eyes.

He could only hear what she said, confirming through the waves. But he could not see the weather, the sky. But he was learning to feel the weather.

It was still too early to know what the weather might be. But from years of wee morning hours, he knew from the temperature, wind and smell, if it was going to be a good day.

God has made it such that there would be signals before something bad happens.

Once out at sea, his wife asked him which direction he wanted to go. All he said was, "Go left.". He felt the boat steer left.

They have been married for 10 years. She has never gone out to sea with him before, until recently. When he knew that he could not provide for his family unless he went out to sea, he cried in her arms like a baby, crushed and defeated. It was Nor, his faithful wife, who told him that she will be there for him. She will go out to sea with him. Just teach her what to do.

For one month, they had to borrow money from relatives to get by, while he taught her everything he knew about fishing. from the nets to the weights to the boat and the type of fish. He patiently answered her questions and waited for the right moment to bring her out to sea.

The first time, they asked a fellow fisherman to follow them out to sea, to show Nor what had to be done out at sea.

It was difficult for Nor, he could hear her little exclamation of pain whenever she was pricked by the fishes' fins or from the side of the boat. He appreciated her continuous rattling of conversation as she described all that was going on, giving him pictures in words.

He was grateful.

After hauling in the fishes, which were to be sold in the market, they would make their way back to shore.

The fishes had to be sorted and packed into boxes before 6am, when the local truck would weigh and load it up for the local market. It didn't earn them much. First-hand fresh fish are sold and marked up by at least 150% before it reaches the kitchen table. There were just too many middlemen.

They would usually keep two boxes of their best fish to personally sell at the local market. It brings them more income than when sold to the wholesaler. But they knew that they will nto be able to sell the fish within one day, hence they will have to sell it to the wholesaler. It was too expensive to buy and maintain a freezer.

His wife would go back to the house, where their two elder children, out of four, would be woken up for school. The local school had been kind enough to assist them with secondhand textbooks and uniforms for Erik and Wati, who were in primary 3 and 1 respectively. Zul was 5 and Tina was only 3.

HIs darkest moment has been the day when he tried to see but couldn't. He kept asking Nor what time it was. He felt the sun on his skin, but he could not see the light. He wished he were dead.

But the cries of his children and Nor's voice kept him going. He started this family and they still needed him. All his manly instincts became his driving force.

A man who used to talk loudly and walk about with a strut now fumbled through his own house. But through his determination, he earned the villager's respect and sympathy. Everyone chipped in to help his family. Small amounts of money, which he knew they could hardly afford, came in for food and clothes for the children. Helping hands came to cook and care for the younger kids. Fellow fishermen helpd to mend and repair his net and boat.

He was blessed.

He saw with further clarity the charity in their hearts and the goodness from their actions. He saw the faithfulness of a good wife and the strength in a woman's heart. He was the maturity in his eldest son who was only nine years old. He saw the achievements he can accomplish now and not before.

He could see. He was happy.