Lessons Learned :: Karma (Part I)

Somewhere on the Timor Sea

Karma was a word that floated through my vocabulary. It was something that I had heard and said, yet, never really understood its full and true meaning until I was several days out from Australia and less than a week away from Indonesia on the Timor Sea.

I left Australia by chance, catching a ride on a Canadian yacht out of Darwin. Destination: South East Asia. First stop plotted was Indonesia via Singapore, Malaysia and up to Thailand.

The first day out, and my first time on the open seas was a bit rough. I wasn’t sure if it was sea sickness or the after effects of a big night out, perhaps it was a bit of both. I sucked ice cubes and lied flat on the deck, with my head over the side. Land slowly faded behind us as we forged ahead, a warm breeze billowed the sails pushing us onward. The only sounds came from the splashes of the water, the lanyards, the sails and our voices.

And then there was the sound of a plane; the Australian coast guard flew over keeping eyes on their borders and shores. We were in contact and it was a reassuring fact that there was some communication to someone else. Getting closer to the equator, the sun sets around 6 and darkness comes quick, segueing into the most magical evening show I have ever seen. Still on the deck, flat on my back the stars danced upon the velvet sky. Shooting and falling, I was in awe. I slept under the stars on the deck with the seas and rigging and flapping sails lulling me to sleep.

The next two days passed quickly. My land lubber legs were slowly adjusting to the motion of the sea and I could keep food down. The captain shared stories of his adventures between leaving Canada and Australia, made great popcorn for afternoon snacks, plotted our course with the GPS and had our daily encounters with the Coast Guard. Dolphins would drop by and play in the bow wake on a regular basis to both of our amusement. Balls of fish would dance and flicker in the water as tuna were no doubt lunging at them from beneath. Flying fish would find their demise as they leapt onboard.

I still couldn’t stay in the cabin. I lived on the deck. And while the captain went for a nap I found the chinks of shade and slept. The soft spouting sound of dolphins woke me and was captivated by their playful spirit as they approached the yacht from ever angle. And that is when I noticed something on the horizon. A mere dot breaking the unobstructed views and I wondered what it was. The captain had told me stories of modern pirates on this stretch of ocean so I kept my eyes peeled. And slowly the shape of a boat took form. I woke the captain and grabbed the binoculars; we kept our course, watched, and waited.

Slowly the boat on the horizon began to take a recognizable form. Sails and a large hull. Of course our thoughts turned to pirates. Perhaps the Captains thoughts ran a bit deeper with fear, troubles, a touch a panic. Our eyes squinting towards the ship, wondering and still waiting as slowly the wind pushed both of us closer on an inevitable path.

But the shape of the boat changed, was it the angle, was it the sun toying with our vision, or was it our fear? And through the binoculars the shape of a small outrigger canoe and two lone figures became apparent. And again we wondered and waited. Time crept by. And the figures in the boat becoming more real-to-life with every stroke. They were 20 feet off the bow and made a sweep to the side. And there we were - virtually face to face.

Leathered skinned and wearing sarongs, the one man took off his straw hat to cool his head from the effort put in to catch up with us. The other fumbled around the canoe, looking for something. The Captain, trying to push me into the cabin, was afraid that the blonde haired maiden may be an appealing capture for what he regarded as pirates. And honestly, they were the most disappointing pirates I had ever seen. No patches, no hooks, no "Argghh Billy" or "Ahoy mate" drawls.

And as I fought my way through his arm lock and gritted snarls, I saw the one man find what he was looking for and he held up a coconut, then another. Two coconuts dangling from a rope. They were saying something, but we couldn't understand. Were they wanting to sell us coconuts? The whole incident was surreal. Why would they paddle all that way to sell us coconuts? We stood there absolutely dumbfounded. The guy in the back held up a blue plastic jug and kept repeating the same unfamiliar syllables over and over. I shrugged. I didn't understand, and finally one of the men belted out, "water."

I turned to the Captain, "They want water. Can we give them some?" But it wasn't my call. I didn't know the rations we had. I didn't know how much longer it would be until we hit a port. The Captain looked at me in disbelief, "It could be a trick to get on the boat, I can't do it. I can't risk it."

And suddenly I took his look of disbelief. "But...," I mumbled.

More short choppy sentences were exchanged when finally the Captain looked at the men and said, "No." It was that simple. It was firm. Our pirates begging now, held up the jug and coconuts and pleaded for water once again which was followed by another "no."

The look in their eyes, the slumping of their bodies from effort and exhaustion made me hate everything about the Captain. It made me hate the fact that I felt so powerless.

"But can't we put the water into tuperware and toss it out?" I asked. And I too got a stern no.

Mirroring the men on the boat I too slumped down on the deck with my hands on my head, wishing I could help. Wishing that I wasn't part of this. I wanted to vanish away, I didn't want to be part of this.

The wind kept pushing us forward and the two men sat in their canoe. After dropping the jug and coconuts back to the floor of the boat, they didn't move. Their heads hung and sweaty bodies glistened in the sun, but stayed still. And slowly they began to fade away. Once the Captain returned below, I could feel tears streaming down my face. I was sorry that I wasn't stronger to help them. I was sorry for them. I was sorry for the stubborness of the Captain. And this guilt and remorse overcame me as I watched the two men melt into the horizon like they appeared.

To Be Continued...