FINAL ISLANDS IN
THE SUN – 4
Earlier at his office in Alotau, Tomwaya
had obtained from the passenger for his own business records scant details on
what village he was traveling to, how much that would cost, the type of
transport appropriate for the trip – except, of course, asking for more information
on the client’s employment, location of job, spouse, dependents, next of kin if
any, and so on. He simply said fill in this form, sir, and the girls will
complete the rest of the details later. He was more concerned with the thought of
earning some good money that day. Aside from that, he resolved not to allow any
one of his employees handle his brand new and coveted double-cab four-wheel
drive in transporting the passenger from Port Moresby, except himself.
The passenger came in the morning flight surprising
those at the Numwaya Nathalie Lodge. Since the whole town would not begin
conducting business until 8.00am the shuttle simply left him at the reception
desk without any directions of where to go or who to see. But the man seemed to
be sure where he wanted to be. Foroga and Mimi were the first to set sight on
him, and rushed over thinking of a familiar face only to stop short in their
tracks and smile apologetically. Then they had asked, while setting out to
prepare breakfast, if he wanted to sign in. There were rooms available, there
was also breakfast. The man shook his head.
When Nathalie and Tomwaya walked over from
their abode, they regarded the visitor with the same air of curiosity. Only Nathalie
looked the man over a little longer and then being sure he was a total stranger
proceeded to the kitchen to begin directing the girls to prepare breakfast. Tomwaya
was then left to the duty of asking how he could help the visitor whereupon the
man said that he needed transportation to the north coast. And that didn’t
sound like a request, Tomwaya thought.
“Good, I’ll need some forms filled in then…
if you don’t mind,” he said instead.
The man nodded with a slight sniff and
followed Tomwaya to his office where a form was given him to look over. Tomwaya
then explained the necessity of the forms and left to help with breakfast for
the guests of the lodge.
A
while later and as breakfast progressed at the lodge, with chores of the day
carefully planned out and each worker assigned a duty, Tomwaya still wondered
about the visitor from the city. Some gnat was buzzing around his head, hard to
snap at. Finally, he turned to his wife and announced he would be taking the
man to the north coast or wherever it was that he wanted to go.
“There’s five hundred secured,” he said, in
a tone that made Nathalie know he was asking for permission to travel that way.
“I keep my side of the business neat and
tidy, my good husband,” she said after a moment of reflection, and her husband
heard the crunch of burnt toast in her mouth.
“Trust me, nothing will go wrong,” he
said reassuringly. “He looks like a good customer. Just worry about our guests
and the trip to Samarai.”
Nathalie was not convinced. She had her eyes
narrowed at Tomwaya. She had warned him then of whom he chose to transport
across the rough terrain from Alotau to the Raba Raba district, including the
dreaded Cape Vogel area. Hadn’t he noticed, she went on, they had to let Pomio Queen remain at anchor out at the
bay for two hours while the police went through each passenger’s baggage
checking for drugs, evidence of arms smuggling, black market liquor and so on.
There were rumors going on as well that people from Baniara within Cape Vogel
itself were now sporting strange connections with certain religious sects
throughout the country, hadn’t he heard? He should be more careful with whom he
was dealing. And anyhow, she concluded, you can’t trust these Baniaras. The Deputy
Governor of the Milne Bay Province is from Baniara, mind you.
“And you, my dear, are also from Baniara, let
us not forget,” said Tomwaya with a smile.
“I know... and so my concern for your welfare
and our business. So listen to me, my good husband. I am serious. You must know
your customers well. You must be selective. Think of all those good clients you
always have, who pay ready money and without complications – the government
ministers, the public servants, the landowners, the academics, the researchers,
the lot. Why this one? How
can you possibly trust him? ”
“Nathalie, he looks trustworthy enough. I
mean, look at him. He looks… well, imposing, a bit pompous to say the least but,
believe me, he would be that sort of character not to stand on other people’s
toes. When I talked to him briefly I felt that of him. He would be that kind of
man. Too old to be travelling, too grey, a little bent, but gold enough, that’s
for sure. He could even be loaded with retirement money, you know - if you’re
worried about prompt payments and all that. And, well…yes, there’s something
oddly peculiar, something intriguingly familiar about this man – a teacher
perhaps? An advisor to some important leader in ages past, perhaps? A
professor, even, a millionaire pretending to be poor, or a retired colonel,
perhaps? ”
“You
are so sure of yourself in your judgment of character, Tomwaya,” said Nathalie,
taking another nab at the overdone toast then swallowing hard at her tea to
wash the crust down. “You just talked to him briefly and now listen to yourself
go. The next thing you’ll be telling me is that this man, this total stranger
standing over there, looks like my dead uncle.”
Tomwaya almost choked sipping his tea.
“And which uncle might that be?”
“The poet.”
“Ah, that one…yes,” said Tomwaya and
appeared thoughtful for a moment.
He had decided not to argue with his wife any
more. But she let him take the north coast road with the passenger.
Now, as Tomwaya looked at his passenger
slumbering away beside him in the double cab four-wheel drive, it occurred to
him that his wife could have been speaking sense after all. Did he know his
client’s name? All he did was ask the city traveler to fill in the required
forms “and leave the rest to the girls” without taking the trouble to check
what was written there. Now he just did not know who his passenger was, least of
all memorize his name if he had to.
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