With this essay, I have successfully completed one of my modules this semester. A great thank you to every one who taken their time to read this (nearly) 5000-word story.
A special shoutout to Maple, who was actually the first person to read and proofread the story (strange but true: I didn’t read the story myself after typing it). Also, a thank you to everyone else that subsequently read it and gave their comments, too, including my project group mates (listed in the email in the previous post) and my Physics friends, Leonard (who added a couple of hilarious remarks into the paper) and Hai Bee.
So, this is it, a story of my homeland (both in fiction and in reality). I knew I always had something for that paddy field state.
A Story of Serendvipa, Serendipity and Spices
As the sun set over the straits, we watched the glow of the fires lit at the top of the mountain come alive. While we marvelled at these beauties of our land, I began my story:
“These are the beacons to the traders who have set sail from lands afar to trade in this humble settlement some call the Valley of the Dragon, or Bujang Valley. From these merchants, I have heard many stories; stories of bravery, mystique and adventure in the lands beyond these shores. I truly envy them, for it takes much courage to have risked life and limb for the things that they treasure and sometimes, I wonder whether that is the life I would want to lead. After much thought, I realise that I am but a simple man, with no skills other than that to work off the land and the forests that have fed my family for generations. You may have heard many incredible tales of shipwrecked sailors and sea monsters, all of which I heard myself too, but this story, I promise, is different. It is a story of a simple man who could only dream of such adventures, but whose life is subtly entwined with the ways of the sea.
This story begins in earnest about 30 years ago, when I was a precocious little boy and my father would frequently take me and my brother down the river on the family’s wooden perahu, filled to the brim with trade goods such as paddy, rattan, coconuts, resin, honey, camphor, tin and lime[1] to trade for other essentials, such as cloth and pottery. The small river, which flows near our home, empties into a deep, wide river lined with attap and nipah swamps on both banks. The large river, my father would tell us, led to a greater expanse of water, so large that one could sail for days and still would not see land. Yet, there were many boats which were much larger than any that my village people had, and they entered our lands from this place[2]. Some were so large that even if all my village people boarded the ship at the same time, it would not even come close to sinking. As we passed some of these imposing vessels on our rowing boat, I could catch a faint whiff of a strange aroma and hear the voices of men shouting and giving orders in a language that I could not understand. Several of these men had very dark skin, like the colour of a burnt pot, while there were some with fair skin. They worked tirelessly on the ship, usually either raising or lowering large pieces of cloth. These large pieces of cloth were hung from atop a tall pole, and strung to the lower part of the pole by many ropes. “What were the large pieces of cloth for?” I asked, and I was amazed when I found out that these boats were blown across the waters by wind, unlike our perahu which requires rowing, a technology which I have never seen before. I always dreamt of owning one of these ships one day, and setting sail towards the lands in the direction of the setting sun, but my father would discourage me by telling me of the dangers of a journey on one of these ships, dangers that the men of the sea have told him over the years.
“Where were all the ships heading towards, then? What was centre of attraction for all these merchants?” I wondered, and I got my answer soon enough. After rowing up the large river, we would then go upriver along one of the river’s tributaries. At a promontory by the riverbank, was a large settlement at the foothills of the large mountain that stands guard over our land. It is a place of trade and commerce, where men, like my father, would visit to trade goods with the traders who seek the produce of our land, and rest after a long journey from the other ports throughout the region, while waiting for the winds to become favourable. It was a prosperous settlement with a bustling market and a population of a few thousand people. There were a few hundred buildings and most of the buildings were made of hardwood, harvested from the dense jungle that covered most of our lands with roofs made from the dried leaves of the attap palm. The focal point of the town was the marketplace, the liveliest part of the town where all the trade activities took place. Adjacent to the marketplace was the jetty which was at the banks of the river. We did not moor at the jetty, because the smaller boats, like ours could easily be brought directly to the riverbank and beached, but the bigger boats which required deeper waters were docked at the jetty. It was a wondrous place, and I do not know how to begin describing this place… Well, let me begin with the jetty[3].
While my father unloaded the goods off the boat, my brother and I would walk towards the jetty, which was a long wooden structure built on stilts that led out into the river. We would watch the men who were busy loading and unloading large earthenware storage jars[4] and wooden containers on and off the large ships. Some of these men were the sailors of the ships while others were local villagers hired by the traders, who would carry the goods to the market. Being the curious and carefree kids we were, we would make up silly games to pass the time such as trying to guess the contents of these containers.. Some of these containers gave out strong, fragrant smells, which piqued our interest. To satiate our curiosity, we would follow the workers to the marketplace where they would put their goods up for sale or to the godowns which were located just outside the settlement for storage. We patiently waited for the moment the containers were left unattended, and we would look into some of the containers and take a sample or two of their contents. In these containers, we found a most interesting variety of these strange-smelling products, and they came in all shapes and sizes. There were brown irregularly shaped roots, eight-pointed dried “fruits”, cylindrical rolled tree barks, dried small nail-shaped flower buds and yellow powder amongst many others, each with their own distinctive smells[5]. It did not take us long to be able to identify each of them just by its smell, as containers filled with them were carried past us by the jetty. But, there were more than just these things we call spices that were present at the market…
The market was a lively place, where men from throughout our land mingled with merchants and sailors from foreign lands to trade, discuss matters of the lands and the sea and exchange stories of adventures and politics. Never was there a moment of boredom as we walked through the crowd. From our short stature, it was not unlike walking through a constantly billowing curtain of silk robes, cotton sarongs and selendangs. Most of these traders here had arrived here by the sea-route, on the large ships that were moored by the river. However, there were some traders who arrived with elephants and other beasts of burden via the land routes that run deep into the hinterland to the fabled Kingdom of Langkasuka, where I was told that there was a great port that dealt with the goods from great lands of the Tang Dynasty. They would usually bring gold, rolls of smooth silk and fine ceramics, which would be sold in exchange for spices, which I observed, could fetch a rather high price. “What is it about the ceramics of the Tang that I’ve heard so much about?” you ask.
The ceramics of the Tang were unlike anything the earthenware that the women of the village could ever dream to make. The ceramics were smooth, and they were coated by a nearly transparent layer which was of unique colours, such as green, ochre, black and a shade of white-grey. Some of these ceramics had beautiful floral patterns painted on them, while others had other motifs, such as Chinese characters and animals. Not many of the locals could afford these beautiful bowls, plates and water containers, and they were usually bought by the traders from the Arab and Hind. In exchange, the Arab merchants would trade fine rugs from the land of Parsi, coloured transparent wares of many colours (which, I was told, made from melting sand) and small beads of all shapes, patterns and sizes. The Indian merchants, on the other hand, would trade spices, a yellow-coloured wood, which produces the sweetest smell when burnt[6] and a waxy grey substance that emits an odd musky smell. Occasionally, the headman, who oversaw the trade and collected the trade taxes on behalf of the ruler of the lands, would survey the wares, and procure a bowl or two for his own collection.
Ah, the market was truly a meeting place, not only of men of different origins, but of the trades of the land and the sea, and the customs, languages and goods of the East and the West! Never could one imagine such an exchange of culture anywhere in our lands, but then again, I have never been far from my shores. Of course, the market was not lively all day, and as the sun began to set, the sailors trudge back to their quarters in the ships, and the merchants settle down for rounds of toddy drinks. We would return to the perahu and head back to our village, leaving this wonderful melting pot behind. This is the story of the market as seen from the eyes of a naive child who has just seen the wonders of the outside world for the first time. The story about a day at the market ends here, but there’s still more of this story to be told.
As I grew up, I began to learn to tend the family lands and the rituals and superstitions of the forest. One of the more memorable experiences was that of collecting honey from the tualang tree. The tualang is a massive tree, so big that its circumference measures more than 10 men’s arm spans, and its height is equivalent to the height of 40 men combined[7], This imposing tree guards its own liquid treasure as the honey bees would construct their hives on the highest branches and from below, their hives seem to look like circular pieces of cloth left to hung to dry on a piece of rope. Despite the seeming impossibility of reaching the top of the tree and the imminent danger of getting stung by the bees, men had invented methods most ingenious to collect the honey. A man would climb the tree on a moonless night with a torch, and once at the top of the tree, he would knock the torch against the trunk of tree, releasing a shower of embers falling towards the ground. The bees, tricked into thinking that the embers are the attackers, would follow them and fly towards the ground, leaving the hive unguarded. A substantial amount of honey could be collected from a single tree, and a trip to the market would usually entail a successful honey harvest.
By now, I have already made countless trips to the marketplace and I had learnt the tricks of the trade. It was not long before I began making my own trips to the market to sell the family harvests. As I interacted with the foreign merchants, I began to learn more and more about the maritime trade that formed the lifeline of the community of the Bujang Valley. These merchants usually stayed for a few months, and those headed towards the lands of Hind and Arab would stay until the end of the rainy season and set sail during the dry season while the merchants headed down the selat and towards the lands of the Tang Dynasty would set sail at the end of the dry season. These merchants, who were fluent in numerous languages, would sometimes share their incredible tales of their travels and the villagers, longing for some form of diversion from the banalities of everyday chores would gather in crowds to listen to them. This was one of the many recounts I’ve heard during my days at the market:
“If one sailed many days from here, heading in the direction of the setting sun and do not stray off course, he would reach a group of small islands. These islands are inhabited by a group of people who are to be feared, for they ferociously attack passing ships in their small boats. They are ruthless cannibals, always hungering for the flesh of other men. They sometimes fought with tribes of the other islands, but occasionally attacked trade ships. Any sailor ill-fated enough to have been stranded near these islands, whether due to the misfortune of a bad wind, or shipwrecked due to the storms that plague those seas, will most certainly be captured by them and meet death in their hands. We would pray for deliverance from these barbarians, hope for excellent weather and cooperative winds. Many have perished in these islands, but I have been lucky to have survived many journeys past these islands.
However, if one braves the dangers of these isles, and continue towards the setting sun for many more days, one would be greeted by a place of great beauty. At the end of the journey through this great expanse of water is an island known as Serendvipa, ruled by a Buddhist King. It is a kingdom most prosperous, resplendent with great treasures, learned men of Buddha and a leader most wise. The island is famous for the spice known as the sweet wood and men would search for these trees in the forest, chop the tree down and harvest the bark. The aroma emitted by the tree is so strong, any ship downwind from her shores could surely smell it, and ships from around the world moor at her harbour to purchase the wood, and resell it at a great profit at other ports. The wood was sometimes burnt as incense in temples, or added into food as a sweetener. But, this sweet spice is not the only thing that this great island offers.
Men who live in the mountains of the isles have found stones of every colour of the rainbow. When polished, they glow with a light most brilliant, and these stones have become renowned throughout the world. Kings and rajahs would send envoys to the island just to procure these gems. Not many common men could ever wish to own such stones for they were rare and priceless, and many a trader have given up the ways of the sea and headed up to the mountains to make a fortune for himself. However, the journey is perilous as the jungles of the island are filled with dangers, and there are stories of a great number of lions, tigers, giant carnivorous birds and other wild creatures that spare neither man nor beast. The things that the prospect of riches could make a man do are truly limitless…”
“Sweet wood…” I thought as I immediately recognised the spice the merchant was referring to from the days of my childhood spent at the jetty. Men, wearing cloth around their heads would order local men to unload wooden containers filled with a brown, cylindrical sweet smelling spice and would sell them at the marketplace. The local villagers, traders and the errand boys of the Buddhist monks from the temples in the hills would flock to the stalls to purchase the spice, and the haggling would be intense. They offered goods such as tin, resin and betel nuts in exchange for the spice. Some of the richer traders would purchase a large quantity of the spice, by offering large quantities of gold, porcelain, and the finest silk from China and bring them to their godowns, to be resold to other merchants or to the locals from the surrounding villages. It truly was a lucrative trade, and one could amass a fair amount of fortune from the trade. Being a young man, and wanting to make a fortune, I was attracted to the prospect of the trade of sweet wood. However, the tales of the dangers of the oceans discouraged me from obtaining the spice from the land of Serendvipa directly. So, I had to devise an alternative method to obtain the spice without having to risk my life in the seas of unimaginable dangers.
One day, while I was working on the family farm, it occurred to me that I could attempt to plant the sweet wood tree in my own lands, and sell the spice myself. It was an excellent plan, but how could I obtain the seeds of the tree? Therefore, I set about to find out more about this spice. During my next trip to the market, I asked about the prospect of obtaining the seeds of the sweet wood tree. Many of the merchants from the lands of Hind and Arab were reluctant to obtain the seeds for me and I was told that it would be a futile effort as the Kingdom of Serendvipa monopolised the trade of sweet wood and the men who harvested the trees would never reveal their location. Some said that the tree would not survive in the weather and soil conditions here, but I suspect all of these were excuses that most of the merchants made as they were afraid that if I could produce my own sweet wood, it would compete with their imported spice and deprive them of a source of income. However, I persisted in my search and a few weeks later, I finally found someone who was willing to perform the task. My brother was interested in seeking his fortune at sea and I managed to convince him to try to obtain the seeds of the sweet wood tree from the island of Serendvipa.
On the day he was to leave for the West, we both made our way down to the settlement together and headed to one of the few Buddhist shrines which were located around the settlement. It was a custom amongst the Buddhist seamen to pray for deliverance and safe journeys to their destinations at these shrines, and the richer merchants would make lavish offerings of sandalwood and camphor to the Buddha figures at the temples. The construction of these shrines was funded by the Buddhist traders, who have come from the land of the Cholas, Palas and Hind, but the construction work was carried out by the locals. These shrines were relatively larger than the average house and are roughly cross shaped. Unlike the local buildings, it has a foundation were made of bricks made from the local red soil, and the pillar bases were made from granite found upstream. The pillars were made out of hardwood and they supported a domed roof. The Buddhist figures were placed in the centre, and a flight of stairs led up to the altar.
We prayed for my brother to have a safe journey, and we made an offering of some rice. After that, we returned to the jetty, and I bade him farewell. It was quite an emotional event, seeing a member of your family head off into the unknown, knowing that this could possibly be the last time you see him. Perhaps, this was why my father was so swift to dash any of my hopes of going to the sea when I was younger. Surely, the possibility of having to part with your children for a prolonged period of time along with the chance of never being able to meet him again is far too much pain for a parent to bear.
As the Arab ship sailed down the meandering river, and out into the open sea, I realised that the ships that sail across the great seas not only carried the goods of physical values, but also a priceless cargo: the hopes and dreams of people, be it those who were onboard, or those waiting impatiently at the harbours. That day was the first time I let my dreams set sail, but like any ship sailing from one port to another, there would always be a chance that it is wrecked before its purpose is fulfilled.
Several months later, during the wet season, I was watching the strong winds blowing from the sea bend the coconut palms to almost breaking point and the rain falling in sheets across the fields, I was reminded of the story of the ship that sunk further south along the straits during a storm like this one. It was a very tragic loss, and as the news spread across the marketplace, it was met with the shaking of heads and downcast faces. Some of the traders, I knew, lost their cargo on that ship, but the sea is unpredictable and cruel to both the lives of men and fate. I thought of my dear brother who may have suffered a similar fate out at sea. Alas, all I could do was to confine such thoughts to the recesses of my mind, and continue to wait patiently. Life had to go on as usual while I wait and that was something that I had learnt in the days after his departure…
At last, he did return, about two and a half years later, emerging at the doorstep of the family home almost as sudden as his departure felt to us. There was much rejoicing among the family members and the folk of my village. Indeed, he made a fortune from his journeys, but amassed an even larger wealth of knowledge and experiences. For many days after his return, those curious about his adventures would visit and he would spend hours recounting the tales of the people and the places he saw. He even brought back a most ornate Arab oil lamp, which provides light to the house as darkness falls and it is still used even now. But, we shall keep the stories of his adventures for another day. As for now, I know you must be wondering, “what about the seeds I asked for?” Ah, yes, about the seeds…
He did bring back a few seeds of the sweet wood tree, and I knew it would be long before I could ever dream of owning a sweet wood plantation. Nevertheless, I was extremely grateful because he confirmed what I was told by the merchants: the collectors of the sweet wood were forbidden to reveal the location of the trees, and my brother had to brave the jungles to search for them, and smuggle the seeds out of Serendvipa. He told me of the methods that the men used to extract the bark of the wild sweet wood tree[8]. So, I planted one of the precious seeds in my orchard to see whether the conditions were right for the growth of the tree. Unfortunately, like any tree, it takes quite some time for the tree to germinate and reach maturity, and so, I had to wait patiently for the result of this botanical experiment, just as I had waited for my brother to return.
The results were encouraging, and in less than two years, the seed had grown into a tree of a decent height of about five times my height. However, as I was about harvest my first crop of sweet wood, I was literally “struck” by strange twist of fate. One rainy night, which, as usual, was accompanied with flashes of lightning, and thunderous booms, I heard a loud crackle from the orchard. Startled, I headed to the orchard, and I found that the tree I had planted was struck by lightning and was on fire. It was truly an infelicitous event, but I consoled myself with the knowledge that I still had several seeds left. So, I heavy-heartedly cut down the remains of this tree, and I set about to plant the remaining seeds I had in the orchard, knowing that I now had a new, albeit delayed, source of income, to supplement that which I already had. But, after this event, I made a most amazing discovery!
While surveying the trees I had planted a few months later, I noticed that there were shoots growing out of the stump of the old tree which I had felled a year earlier. At first, I thought they were weeds, but upon closer inspection, I realised that they were indeed young shoots of the sweet wood tree, and they were growing as fertilely as the ones which I had planted directly from the seeds. It was a trait of trees which I had observed before, which I had forgotten but today, it has proven to be a technique most useful in the cultivation of sweet wood. You see, most trees require maturity, which takes many years, to produce fruit, but in the case of the sweet wood tree, it is the bark that one harvests, and it is usually harvested from the branch shoots. Hence, one does not have to cut the entire tree down during harvest. Harvesting the shoots from the old tree stump is therefore an easier alternative, and provides a longer lasting supply of sweet wood. With this discovery, I had probably become the first cultivator of this spice in my village, and perhaps, even in our land…
That, my son, is the story of how your father made his living. As I said at the beginning, I know that it is a tale without any adventures out in the open oceans, harrowing ordeals on deserted islands, or fighting the huge creatures of the sea. However, I must say, some of us make our living through more mundane means, but together, the people of the land and the people of the sea form a bigger picture, a complex network of cooperation. We depend on the people of the sea for objects and luxuries we could not otherwise enjoy, and they too, depend on us to supply commodities which are not available in their homeland. This interdependence, as someone once beautifully described, is like the relationship between the birds and the fruit trees, the trees need the birds to spread their seeds, and the birds need the fruits for sustenance. You should be asking by now, “Why am I telling you all this?”
My tale has gone a full circle, and once again, a young boy stands at the entrance to a world of riches and unknown dangers. Tomorrow, you will be taking this first step into this world of infinite possibilities, just as I did 30 years ago, and you will learn to make a living for yourself and your family. I hope this story has succeeded in providing inspiration and aspiration; torches that I sincerely wish you can help pass on to the generations to come.”
With that final sentence, I took his hands and we walked through the orchard, with the scent of the sweet wood tree to lead us home through the darkness that had already enveloped our land.
[1] Sometimes, there were fruits, too, but they were a seasonal harvest. The sea merchants, who have spent weeks on the ship, crave the sweetness and the juiciness of fresh fruits, after consuming nothing but dried food. Personally, I like to see the men buying bunch after bunch of rambutans and carrying the fruits back to the ship. I would help myself to one or two of the rambutans left behind as they fall out of the bunch.
[2] I actually snuck into one of these ships once, and to my surprise, I found that the insides were hollow. Most of the ship’s supplies and cargo were kept inside the ship. The ship’s crew slept there, too.
[3] Locals call this a Pengkalan or Pangkalan, which refers to any place where ships could moor. Hence, we call the town Pengkalan Bujang
[4] They call these jars, Dusun jars. I never knew why their names were called such, though.
[5] These spices were called ginger, star anise, sweet wood (kayu manis), cloves and turmeric, respectively. Of course, we did not know their names back then. Sometimes, some of them were ground up into powders and sold in small quantities at the market.
[6] Once, during a visit to a Buddhist temple, I realized that this wood was primarily burnt in temples when during meditation rituals and offerings to Buddha. This wood, known as sandalwood, is extremely rare, and can only be found in the land of the Cholas
[7] Some say the trees were so tall, that from the top, you could see the meander of the wide river that led to sea, and it is a most beautiful sight to behold. It’s a shame, really, because I’ve never seen this sight before, and the reason is obvious… I almost always climb the tree on a dark night.
[8] According to what I was told, the shoots of the tree are cut, and the outer bark, leaves and twigs are removed, leaving a thin strip of the inner bark. The stripped bark is then placed in layers, and rolled up into cylindrical tubes and dried.
