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The Iruvai Journey
Part 2
by Dhon Keyothi

It's my first trip carrying a cargo of seventy-five tons of salted smoked tunafish. Phew! What a smell!

As the ship moves through the kandu and heads into the ocean, the crew suddenly goes on strike and leaves the wheel unattended. Salt-dried Maldive fish can't be left to flounder in the sea like a love-sick whale, so I jump off the bunk and get the ship back on course. For almost 18 hours I stand at the wheel, until the captain gets the crew's problems sorted out. Then the engine gives up the dhevi and, I tell you boy, the sea is ROUGH, and the mixed smell of diesel and salt fish really is the limit!

I finally get used to the odour and climb down into the engine room. It's bad in there, and I can't stay long. The diesel fumes fill my eyes with tears, and the engineer doesn't know how to fix the problem. It's just a matter of a small ball-bearing, but there's no spare, and within two days, the boat is leaking and a pump with a two-inch pipe is all we have to survive. But for how long? That's the question!! The hull is creaking like the sound of a door in a horror movie, and there are tiger sharks femunu nearly three metres long and dolphin fish fiyala almost as big. If we go down, not a single piece of our bones will remain.

I think many times, This is the end, and then the pump breaks and the boatswain gets the crew on deck. 'Say your prayers,' he tells them. 'This is the end.'

I really go mad over this guy stealing my thoughts and giving up so fast but I decide to use a bit of diplomacy. Unexpectedly, the weather is calm. It's a depression. We're a bit happier but I know more bad weather is coming soon. But I never give up. It is not my way. Many times when the boat is between two waves, I think we won't come up out of the trough, but praise God, we do. The waves are taller than coconut trees or even a small mountain. I stay at the wheel as the crew is too ignorant to be trusted and they have some problem that I can't even remember now. The captain is bed-ridden with sea sickness, but fortunately the course is easy. (There was no GPS at this time)

In five days I finish all the hand-flares I bought at an auction, and the rest of the time I burn a shirt and pair of pants with diesel to let the big ships know where we are at night. My naked body glistens in the golden firelight, as I can send messages but don't know how to receive them. Twenty-five ships pass but none stop.

Some nights on watch when there are no ships I lay on top of the deck and study the stars, and get lost in their power. This is a strange and amazing experience.

On the tenth day a Dutch ship named Tedloydelft (if I spell it correctly) stops about 500 metres from us. We bail out the little bokkuraa which I bought for Rf350/- before leaving the Island of Blood. It must be around two metres long or maybe even smaller. We fashion some oars from plywood and two members of our semi-retired crew manage to get it into the ocean. Since it isn't very rough we manage to row across to the ship which looks like a fortress.

The boys are bailing off the water with my motor cycle helmet that I also brought with me, just in case. We meet some officers, get our position (since the sky was cloudy), and they give us a bag of flour and rice. The smallest ball-bearing they can offer us is part of a chain block that must be one foot in diameter at least. An officer wants us to abandon our ship and cargo, and go with him to Singapore. But I decide this isn't the right time for a shopping detour. Our quest must go on, and my instinct says that I will win and make it to Sri Lanka. We leave, asking the officer to inform our worried government that its humble heroes are battling on. Some of the Dutch crew take photographs of us in the bokkuraa. We come back to the boat for better or for worse. Truly we are married to our fate.

As the man in charge, I take responsibility and get a stainless steel rod filed to the size of the bearing, twist it and press it into place. Although it's a rough job, I know we are only 98 miles from Colombo. While the engineer is fixing things, I get the crew to put some salt fish on a hook and try to catch a decent fish to eat. There's no surprise when they catch a tiger shark, (one of the smallest with a length of only 5 ft), its mouth twisting and vomiting all over the boat's deck. I climb up the railing to give the necessary orders from the safe position expected of a leader, and the crew come out of retirement completely. In moments, the fish is subdued. Finally there's a celebration when the engine starts and the boat is back on course.

By the time our voyage resumes it must be one in the afternoon, and that evening we see the lights of Sri Lanka. The side of the engine has a red hot heat patch around the bearing; it was a rough job after all, and the crew is really inspired when they put wet gunny bags around it to keep it cool. That works a bit, but within an hour the final sound comes and the engine says good-bye. The depth is 13 fathoms and the captain orders the anchor dropped.

The following morning, despite the creaking sounds of the hull and a rippling swell from the ocean, we manage to get some sleep, have breakfast and then we climb back into the little bokkuraa, holding a plastic bag with half our money and a communication set, because we live to WIN, and ensure a proper world with its full quota of harmony. I have gone and seen, now I will conquer. Yes! Say your prayers. This is the end. We see the two men in a boat turned over by a wave but fortunately no one is hurt. (Shiver my timber). I bail the water with my helmet and we see land by 2 o'clock that afternoon. It is Negombo, a few miles north of where we thought we were heading, but at least we've found the right country!

When the Sri Lankan fishing crowd see us, they tie a white piece of cloth on a stick and wave, telling us to change direction because we are heading towards huge rocks. They are kind people. They are surprised to see a new kind of boat that's useless for fishing and different from the catamarans they use. The funniest thing is when I start to speak in Singhalese.

I stay in a house after reporting the matter to the police. The food they give me is strange but it's good hot curry every time with fresh fish morning, afternoon and night. My stomach is like a heavy melon. They are very nice to me, and when I tell them my story the fishermen listen closely. They partied on with their drinks and fried fish and sang Yaman Bande Vesak Balanne, a well known song in Sri Lanka about a Singhala festival. So life is a ball game.

We allow two boats the honour of towing us down into Colombo harbour. Eighteen hours later our 75 tons of salt fish is delivered safe and sound. I know Maldivian fishermen will be rejoicing, because they'll eat again this year.




Next episode —
Dhon wakes up, and the island of Goats is never the same again...



Notes
Iruvai means 'the time of the dry and sunny northeast monsoon'.
fureytha is a demon or demons found at sea or on land.
holhuashi is a shaded public bench/seat at the edge of an island beach, traditionally made of screwpine trunks with a palm leaf roof, and often referred to by Maldivians as 'the information centre'.
kandu is a channel through the reef of an atoll connecting the atoll lagoon to the open sea.
Maldive fish is smoked and salted tuna fish. Traded from Maldives for many hundreds of years, Maldive fish is an immensely popular delicacy in Sri Lanka.
dhevi is a ghost.
GPS is a Global Positioning System device used on land and sea to find a craft or person's exact geographical co-ordinates.
bokkuraa is a small boat used for unloading people, small amounts of cargo, or for lifting the anchor etc.

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