|
There is no reply to the email I sent to the General Manager.
He never replies my emails. The senior manager responsible for my timesheet
is surprised to see me in the office. He thought I would be on vacation
another week. It seems like I am interrupting everyone's busy schedule
by inquiring about the project status. Maybe I should just sit idle
at my desk until someone assigns work to me. Ever since the high tech bubble collapsed I have been grateful to have work but have found the actual work totally unsatisfying. I used to be proud of being part of the high-tech world. These days the movie Office Space seems more ironical than humorous. * * * I nearly lose my balance as our 25 foot craft gets lifted abruptly by a swell in the South China Sea, causing me to awake from my pondering life as it was on the other side of the planet just a few months back.
Hopefully, desperately poor Indonesian fisherman won't view this white man as a rich catch of a different kind, I ponder. Our vessel looks smallish but sea-worthy. I doubt in North America many would venture this far from shore in a craft so small. I have seen no sign of life-jackets. Maybe they are an inconvenience or unnecessary expense on a wooden vessel where one could hold onto a wooden plank till the next fishing vessel comes to aid. Now that I cannot even make out the shore we left from, I comfort myself with the thought that the water we carry and the second tank of fuel gives us a few hours lease on life. I had read that in the remote atolls of the Pacific they begin the search for a missing fisherman two weeks after he fails to return. I am certain they will do it sooner in this part of the world.
As we stumble beyond the first row of trees I realize the shore is not deserted. A couple of squatters obviously live off the land and the sea. This is the other side of the spectrum, the spectrum where our side consists of salary, pension plan, office cubicles, schedule, politics and some science. This side of the spectrum I can only guess by the chicken feeding on coconuts and fly-covered fish drying in the sun on a piece of wood high up where the dogs cannot reach it. The two room dwelling is perched five feet above the ground and looks smallish, cluttered with clothing and randomly placed items needed for everyday life. A single layer of planks cover the walls, a shield against the frequent heavy downpours. Windows consist of one-foot square openings with a shutter hinged to one side. There are a number of smaller structures, their use or function beyond my understanding, however, I suddenly realized, spending 365 days of the year in such a remote place would call for considerable self-provided infrastructure.
Failing to succeed at my project will land me at the lines of an unemployment office or a simple, low-paying job. Failure to provide by his wits, for the squatter' might have much more dire consequences. Conversation with the one or two neighbours might be a bit monotonous on day two or three and I doubt I still be talking to him day 365 (assuming I would understand more than 2 words of his language). Of course, I realized long ago, dropping-out of society has a hefty price attached. That is not to say there are not wonderful alternatives to cubicle life for those brave and ambitious enough to search the remote corners of the globe. The purpose of my trip to this bay was to examine a piece of land that is for sale. It is located a two-hour boat trip from the Kuching water front. Seems plausible some tourists might want to sail with me two days and spend one or more nights at a very remote and peaceful bay. You see, if this project plan works, I buy my fish from my neighbour and chat with an Australian guy never needing to learn Malay. Call it contracting out.
|
|||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
Page C1050
|