07.01 A Nest in the Woods

Rainy days and sunny days occurred in between. Flight Lieutenant Marvin Edward was getting busier day by day. More locals arrived for treatment at the base hospital. He possibly attained more experience at the base than he could have done his entire life at home. Mala attended job with men and women on boats to Gan. Footloose Habib was in Malé.

On a moonlit night she lay in bed next to Muskan who was fast asleep. Lilies gleamed in the moonlight outside the wood-frame door set facing the patio and painted white. Each glass panel of square metre and rare to find in the region. No curtain.

She observed a movement and a dude appeared on the patio. It was Ali Huzeir. Mala got up from bed and reached the door.

“What happened to you?” she asked in shock.

He wore a large piece of an underwear leaving the legholes gap open. He lowered to the patio deck. Mala reached him and noticed a bump on his forehead hidden behind long hair.

“Did someone hit you?” she asked.

He nodded.

“What happened, Ali?”

He won’t say.

Next day she learnt that Huzeir entered Redi Ahamma’s wife. He came with a piece of firewood and hit him on the forehead as he pulled up his face from the bed. Redi Ahamma controlled himself and didn’t hit again but he kept wielding it like a bat giving no chance for Huzeir to escape. He did eventually but failed to collect his pants. Huzeir ran out naked.

He hid somewhere before neighbours came running after him. He stole a garment from a drying line and sought sanctuary inside Finiveli. An underwear that belonged to a big papa. He fled to Maradu at dawn.

They rolled on a tractor towards north, crossed Shrine Road and turned into a narrow path to continue through the woods. Trees on both sides and the canopy blocking sunlight. Another turn into a winding path and the tractor crawled slowly. Branches brushed on their faces. They stopped at an arch gate covered of creepers.

Savari Shakir arrived with three pieces of heavy luggage and a wooden box. Four men could barely carry the load of the wooden box. They tramped up a stone path to a green turf and there stood a two-storey house behind the trees in a clearing. A shingle roof in breadth to his view. A brick house painted white without plaster on the walls. Four steps to climb to the main door and two windows on each side, five on the top. A space cleared in thick woods and bush trees with red flowers plotted all over. A row of bush trees by the wall cropped in balls. Entire area covered of foliage from tall green trees.

This house belonged to Toib Manikfan. His father was a revered southerner; the late Fandyar Manikfan, a former magistrate. Toib Manikfan was appointed as a representative of the government. He was staying in Bèrumathi and this house in Mulekedé left empty.

“This is your room,” showed the owner, “six bedrooms in the house and each bed with mosquito net. Ground floor you prefer!”

“This looks nice,” agreed Shakir, “What is that canal down there?” He glanced out of the window to see a stream flowing few yards from the house.

“Water from the lagoon,” replied Toib Manikfan, “Take a look around this afternoon. That lagoon is full of pebbles. Scenery around is beautiful.

“I’m told to give you the best accommodation. You’ll find a water closet and dining in the annex. Two helpers will come to sweep the ground, clean the room, cook food and wash your clothes.”

“Bike?”

“A Moto Guzzi,” said Manikfan, “It’s in the annex and a bicycle too. Anything else?”

“This is fine. Thanks.”

“I am only hurrying home to hop on the tractor. Get settled and come to my place. Get closer to the boats and ask for Bèruthila…my place.”

Savari Shakir peeped into the annex. A red colour motorbike with a silver tank looked old and where it belonged. An Italian model of 250cc with a saddle seat.

He stepped out of the door towards the canal. Grass was thick and ground wet away from the immediate surrounds of the house. Brushwood cleared on both sides of the brook near the house location leaving aside tall trees to give shade. Branches showered over water producing a canopy and reflection in green. He could not see the bottom. A berm of bushes ran along the banks of a creek thirty feet wide. Tall trees with thin branches and moss grown on the trunks. No palms in this area. Perhaps a fast-flowing stream to clear fallen leaves and both ends curved into the coppices.

There stood a border wall several steps behind the house and it seemed like thickets beyond. He could hardly walk along the bank full of growth. One thing distinctive around he noticed was the green shade of the trees; not entirely tropical and not entirely green.

He returned to the annex and glanced into a dark cellar; an inside wood kitchen. The dining hall look large enough. He entered the water closet with a well to take a bathe.

Shakir put the kettle on and lit the firewood stove. Picked a chair and a table to sit outside by the porch in view of the stone pathways. Those flowering trees were marked with empty bottles embedded or coconut husk and stones placed around. Stone pathways snaked through the plots not necessarily in any order.

A girl appeared from the south end of the house. A yellowish thin figure with long straight hair. She wore a single-piece top that barely reached the hips with a deep plunging neck, halter strap and backless – a batik-print in gold, blue and black.

“You are having tea already!” she said and Shakir couldn’t grasp a word, “I come to make tea.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Samara,” she said leaving a wrapping of short eats on the table. Shaved armpits and she wore a golden chain around her neck with wet hair, fresh out of the shower.

“What was your name?”

“Samara. I work here with my mother,” she only spoke in Addu dialect.

“How did you come in?”

“From the east gate.”

He pulled up from the chair and went around the house towards the backyard. There was even a better garden before the wall and a paved patio with a wrought iron table and chairs. He stepped on a narrow stone pathway covered of vines to the southeast corner and there stood another gate secured with a latch on the brick wall.