Kerry B Collison

The Timor Man


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Watching you tonight I though what an opportunity we have for you to assist us with our English speaking courses. What do you say, Mas, would you help with some of that spare time I hear you foreign visitors have so much of here in Jakarta? ”

      Coleman was conscious that the request was not necessarily being made for the General. He decided to play along, accept the challenge as he could always drop out, if it became too involved.

      “Yes, of course, I would be pleased to participate in such a program. Why don’t we discuss it formally, next week?

      “No. I don’t think so. I would prefer an informal discussion to define the possible areas of cooperation before proceeding to an official level.”

      Coleman now knew he was entering dangerous ground. Informal discussions could easily be misconstrued.

      “Perhaps then, if you would provide me with the opportunity I could visit you in your office Pak Jenderal

      “Bagus !” he replied. “Let’s leave it at that for the time being. I will arrange for a meeting next week.”

      Satisfied that they had concluded their arrangements both men continued with small talk until eventually drifting into separate groups. Coleman felt uneasy with the General’s oblique approach. He gave no more thought to the discussion and, considering the possibility of the protocol soldier’s motives being not what they seemed, he decided as a precaution to report the incident directly to Canberra in his weekly report. He returned to the bar having strolled around the remaining guests looking for Louise. Where could she have gone?

      Coleman was confused and angry that she had ignored him. He couldn’t understand her attitude as he knew he’d done nothing to upset her! He remained at the bar, drinking heavily. He could vaguely remember one of the other guests suggesting he’d had enough. Each time the tuan’s glass was empty the jongus refilled it quickly. Finally, somebody took him home but when he awoke in the early hours of the morning in the unfamiliar room he realized instantly the stupidity of his actions.

      In the darkness the Ambassador’s wife moaned and rolled towards him. Naked, her breath foul from the cigarettes and far too many Jack Daniels, Coleman’s eyes opened wide with surprise as he saw the white mound edging towards him. Quietly, he crawled out of her bed, dressed quickly and searched for the security gate. The old man dressed in his white safari jacket, proudly displaying the gold buttons with the Australian crest, pretended not to notice as Coleman slipped past him into the night. He stood outside under the ageing elms, feeling foolish, dressed in his tuxedo at three o’clock in the morning on a deserted street.

      Achmad, of course, was nowhere to be seen as the previous evening Stephen had had the benefit of theAmbassador’s limousine. And, apparently, also his wife!

      He walked to the corner and woke one of the sleeping becak drivers to take him home to his own bed. He needed more sleep. His body was already sending him alarm signals over the abuse he had heaped upon it. Still partially drunk, his anxious house-boy helped the swaying tuan into the bedroom. Exhausted, he kicked off his shoes, removed most of his clothes and dropped onto the bed.

      He’d had difficulty at first, drifting off to sleep, the ceiling spinning slowly and even when he closed his eyes he still imagined the nauseating motion through his eyelids. When he finally succumbed Stephen dreamed he had been pushed into a kali by a beautiful naked blonde who laughed as he was slowly being sucked down in the stream’s filthy quagmire.

      The dream was confused with others also laughing as soldiers threw bodies of children into the canal while Albert stood high on the embankment sagely shaking his head at Coleman’s futile efforts to retrieve the bodies and throw them back to safety. Occasionally he succeeded, only to have the children scream as they were again bundled back into the cesspool. A tall soldier, his uniform covered in blood stood yelling at Coleman to do his duty and teach the children the words in English so that the soldiers could understand that they really did not want to die thereby saving them from his stupidity.

      As he groaned and cried out in his sleep the house-boy banged on his tuan’s door. He feared that something dreadful had happened to his master. Coleman was partially conscious of the pounding on the door but believed it part of his nightmare until finally, he awoke, crying out, his body smothered in sweat in the cold air-conditioned bedroom.

      Sukardi, the jongus, raced into the room to help the young tuan .

      “Tuan, tuan, ada apa? What is it tuan?” screamed the house-boy now feeling the terror in the room.

      Perhaps the tuan had been bitten by a krait ! No! That is preposterous he admonished himself. How could a snake enter his master’s bed when he himself just hours before had prepared the room?

      “Tuan, tuan, please tell me what it is that is wrong with you ,” he pleaded.

      As his master’s consciousness returned ‘Kardi put his arm around the younger man’s shoulders assisting him out of bed.

      “Maaf tuan, maaf tuan,” the servant apologized for placing his hands on the tuan . No sooner had Coleman regained consciousness than he doubled forward as the sharp stabbing pain ran down through his lower abdomen signalling the cause of both the nightmare and the screaming. Coleman had been initiated with his first attack of Soekarno’s revenge.

      As a result of this illness and its debilitating effect both physically and psychologically, the concerns he’d felt for General Seda’s obvious attempt to recruit him and the guilt of spending part of the night in another man’s bed diminished with the days, as he lay listlessly in bed recuperating from what he hoped would be his last encounter with the dreaded disease.

      He had made a mental note to discuss his interpretation of the General’s approach with one of the Military Attachés when the opportunity arose once back at his desk. His real concern was what his reception would be back in the Embassy considering his blatant indiscretion. And, of course, his career!

      One very long week passed slowly and, lighter but now stronger, Stephen returned to work. He’d tried to contact Louise from his home to see if she would accept his call to discuss whatever it was she seemed to have on her mind, and obviously the cause for her behaviour towards him at the party.

      The Embassy operator was impatient with his insistence that the call was extremely important. He insisted that she connect him to her extension. Finally, after numerous attempts, he was informed that Louise had been very specific in her request to the switchboard. They were not to accept any of his calls. That was it, then! He decided he couldn’t understand her attitude — at least she could accept just one call to explain her position. He was deeply disappointed and became even more depressed.

      Fortunately, the incident involving the Head of Mission’s wife became more of a joke around the Chancery than an impediment to Stephen’s career. Straight-laced Dicky had waddled past him during the early days when the rumour mill was in full swing, and merely ‘tch-tched’ him indicating his disapproval of the indiscretion. He had no idea how the gossip managed to spread as quickly as it did but, by his second day back at work it was obvious that he’d become the centre of attention within the Embassy’s community.

      The clearest signal was when he entered the main office area and all conversation ceased, the men with knowing smirks while the women looked at Stephen, almost with admiration. He had stood in the centre of the office and with a sombre voice and hands up-raised had said, “Not guilty,” and left it at that. Unbeknown to the young attaché, the Ambassador’s wife was responsible for the story travelling at such speed as she blatantly admitted having the romp with Stephen, during the weekly tea session all the Embassy wives attended.

      Exaggerating the brief encounter, describing his sexual prowess directly from her vivid imagination some of the younger ladies had giggled nervously, one spilling her tea, while others laughed at her rendition of how eventually she had cried ‘enough, enough,’ and dispatched him on his way before he completely wore her out!

      Stephen