#24 - Piracy in the Strait of Malacca

“Dude, whatcha eatin’?” The man asked, plopping down onto the empty plastic stool across the table.

Kurt looked up from his bowl of soup. The man was of a particular category of white tourist he had spotted all over Southeast Asia; closing in on fifty, spindly-legged, deeply tanned, sun-bleached, thin, ragged, desperate-looking. His shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a hairless, leathery chest. His cut-off shorts hung low on his hips.

“It’s called laksa. Local specialty, I guess. Pretty good stuff.” Kurt said, dipping his chin to slurp from the bowl. Better than pretty good; it was the reason he had ventured to the island of Penang alone, leaving his travel companions behind in Kuala Lumpur. Unlike him, they hadn’t been convinced by their guidebook that the cuisine on the island was worth the trip.

“I’m screwin’ with you. I eat that shit five times a week. Love it. My name’s Larry.” The man said. He thrust his hand across the table. Kurt reached up and shook it.

“You just get here?” Larry asked, reaching into his shirt pocket and retrieving a pack of Dunhill cigarettes.

Kurt laughed and rested his chopsticks across the top of his bowl. “Lucky guess. I got here this afternoon. I was with friends in K-L but they wanted to hang out there a while, and I wanted to come here. So we split up for a few days.”

“Welcome to the beautiful island of Penang.” Larry said, lighting a cigarette. He took a long drag and then blew two pillars of smoke from his nostrils, like a dragon.

“This place is like the street food capital of Asia or something, right?” Kurt said. “I figured I had to check it out.”

“There’s a ton of tasty shit around here.” Larry said, nodding. “But there’s a hell of a lot more to do than eat, that’s for sure.”

Kurt picked up his chopsticks. “Yeah? Do you live here?” He asked.

“Not here. But I come through often, you could say.”

Their conversation paused long enough for Kurt to finish his dinner. The two of them sat at a small table on the edge of a large outdoor food court. The sun was setting and the place was filling up with locals. Larry and Kurt were the only two white faces in sight. As Kurt ate, Larry stared off into the crowd, smoking.

“Didn’t I say there was a lot to do here?” Larry said with a chuckle. He motioned toward a table nearby where two girls were eating. They looked like teenagers.

“Ah, yeah, the girls.” Kurt said. He had noticed them earlier. They were beautiful, but he changed the subject. “Where’re you from in the States?” He asked.

“Ohio, California, Michigan, everywhere. Moved around a lot my whole life. Came over here about fifteen years ago and decided this was the place for me.” Larry said. He leaned forward and looked into the bowl Kurt had been eating from. There was still a bit of broth left at the bottom.

“You finished?” Larry asked.

“Yep.” Kurt said.

Larry smashed the remaining stub of cigarette into the broth. There was a quick sizzle and then the white butt floated on the surface of the liquid.

“I got sick of it all.” Larry said. He stared off again into the bustling crowd around them. Kurt waited for him to finish his thought. There was a long silence, and then Larry continued. “You can work your ass off over there and not have anything to show for it. You know? I found the American Dream to be a pretty shitty endeavor. I had nothin’ there and I’ve got nothin’ here. But at least here I don’t have to bust my ass for it.”

Kurt nodded. He was thinking of leaving – heading back to his room at the guesthouse.

Larry laughed to himself and said, “There’re lots of ways to get by here. You just gotta be creative.”  

Kurt stood up from the table and extended his hand. “I think I’m going to call it a day. It was nice meeting you.” He said.

“What?” Larry said. “This is your first day – you gotta see the place. Get your feet wet!” He stood up and motioned for Kurt to follow him. “I’ll show you a around, alright? You’re over twenty-one?”

“Twenty-three.” Kurt said. “But I’m feeling pretty exhausted. I haven’t really slept for a couple days.”

Larry was unconvinced. “I’ll tell you what, you come with me, check this place out, and if you don’t like it, you can leave. But you might as well have a look, right?”

The two of them left the food court and walked along a busy road in the opposite direction of Kurt’s guesthouse. They passed a row of large, gutted homes built in gothic style, like old plantations in the American South. The homes had been abandoned for a very long time. The island was reclaiming the properties; the walls bleached by sunlight and salty humidity. Vines covered the homes. Their yards were overgrown with tall grass.

“Feels like we’re going nowhere, doesn’t it?” Larry asked, glancing over his shoulder at Kurt.

“Kind of.” Kurt said.

“No worries, though. It’s not far.” Larry assured him.

They walked in near darkness for a short time, and then Kurt could see lights ahead, and he realized that they had only taken a shortcut to the main road that followed the coastline around the island. They were quickly in the thick of food vendors and shops. He followed closely behind Larry, through the swarm of pedestrians. The air was heavy, humid; the scent of the ocean joined with smoke from the grills of the sidewalk eateries they passed.

Kurt was suddenly aware of a low, thumping rhythm, and as they turned a corner, the sound expanded into music that drowned out all other noise on the street. Larry spoke to him, his voice overwhelmed by the bass thrum of the music, and pointed toward a neon-lit club ahead of them. A bright sign flashed the word GLOW in pink. At the entrance, two girls in tight yellow tube dresses were calling out to passersby, beckoning them to step into the club. Kurt leaned toward Larry to hear what he was saying.

“Beautiful, eh?” Larry shouted into his ear. “Lots more inside.”

“Oh.” Kurt said. He smiled politely. “I’m not sure, man. I think I might head back. I’m tired.”

“At least get a closer look!” Larry said, laughing.

“It’s just – I’m not really into this sort of thing.” Kurt said. “Sorry.”

“Come on,” Larry said. “You don’t have to stay, but at least go in and see. They’re convincing as hell.”

Kurt looked again at the two girls at the club’s entrance.

“What…? Convincing?” He said.

Larry smiled. “Those, my friend, are not girls in the conventional sense. But they could sure fool me, right?”

“Ladyboys?” Kurt asked.

“I was gonna see how long it took you to figure it out.” Larry said, patting him on the shoulder.

“Man, I’m leaving.” Kurt said. “This is just…”

“Just trying to give you a laugh. Thought you might want to look at the freaks.” Larry said.

Kurt turned to leave. “No.”

“Now, wait a minute. I’ll show you the real girls.” Larry said.

Kurt didn’t respond. He was walking quickly in the direction they had come from. He had no clue how to get back to his guesthouse, but wanted distance between Larry and himself. He had only made it twenty steps when he heard someone coming up behind him rapidly. A hand gripped his shoulder. Kurt twisted sharply and knocked the hand away.

“What the hell? I’m trying to be nice!” Larry said.

“Don’t touch me, asshole.” Kurt said.

Larry jumped forward and swung a fist at Kurt’s head. The blow landed awkwardly, smashing into his ear and jaw. Kurt staggered, but regained his balance and lunged at Larry, wrapping his arms around the thin man’s torso. For a moment, they were frozen in a tangled embrace and then Larry wedged his knee between Kurt’s legs and shifted his weight and forced them both to the ground. When they landed, Kurt heard a crunch, felt a shock of pain starting at his left elbow, and immediately the strength drained out of that arm. He tried to twist away, but Larry managed to straddle him, pinning his good arm to the sidewalk. From above, Larry swung downward, landing a blow to the left side of Kurt’s face, and then another. Kurt ceased to struggle. Larry remained on top of him, but had stopped delivering punches. Placing a hand on Kurt’s throat, he leaned in and said, “I was trying to be nice.”

“Sorry.” Kurt gasped. There was a hot throbbing in his cheek. He closed his eyes, unable to look Larry in the face.

“Who’s the asshole?” Larry said, standing up.

Kurt remained motionless on the ground. He opened his eyes slowly and turned his head toward the club. The two ladyboys in yellow were staring back at him. They had seen the fight.

“I’m gonna tell you what.” Larry said. “I think I deserve a bit of compensation for my time and hospitality.”

He bent down and began digging through the pockets of Kurt’s cargo shorts. He found Kurt’s wallet in the side pocket, took all the ringgit and dollars, and tossed the empty wallet on the ground.

“Have a nice trip.” He said, stepping over Kurt and walking toward the club.  

With effort, Kurt was able to sit up. His left arm was limp; the pain unbearable. He sat on the curb watching people and taxis pass by. He waited a long time, and then finally managed to stand and begin his journey back to the guesthouse. 

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To read more about Piracy in the Strait of Malacca, read the original Wikipedia article HERE.