Dada 75

My eyes had been closed and now the room seemed even more dazzling white. There wasn’t a single shadow and every object, every angle; every curve stood out so sharply that it hurt my eyes. At that very moment, Dade’s friends came in. There were about ten of them in all and they silently slipped into the room beneath the lights that were blinding me. They sat down and not a single chair creaked.

I looked at them as I had never looked at anyone before, taking in every detail of their faces and clothing. But I couldn’t hear them, so I found it difficult to believe they were real. Almost all the women wore silk sarongs tied tightly around their waists, which made their stomachs look even rounder. I had never noticed how old women could have such big stomachs. They seemed to carry them along as if all of their being resided there.

The men were almost all very thin and walked with the help of sticks or canes. The Chinese men walked low on their feet as if they too ,like Dada, had spent their lives in the engine rooms of the ships of the Blue Funnel Line.  What struck me most about their faces was that I couldn’t see their eyes, just a faint, dull light in a nest of wrinkles either Chinese or Malay or even another of the Sea Dayaks.

Once they had sat down their clothes became indistinguishable. Most of them looked at me and nodded as if they felt embarrassed by my youth. Their lips looked sucked in because they had no teeth; I couldn’t tell whether they were acknowledging me or if their mouths were just twitching. I think they were probably acknowledging me. It was just then that I noticed that they were all sitting opposite me, around the caretaker, nodding their heads. For a split second, I had the ridiculous feeling that they were a tribunal sent there to judge me.