Chapter 12 - Swimming in Thunderstorms. Thailand 1981

B wheels his BMW around the last corner and cruises down to the beach with Ali beside him in the front passenger seat. Rain streaks noisily down the windscreen and they are silent within the car. They pull up at the end of the tarmac and lightening dazzles everything in a moment of white. Their eyes take a few seconds to readjust to the wet darkness, streaked by the white caps of the swelling sea. D starts to speak but is drowned out by a blast of thunder that rolls on for five seconds. He closes his mouth and waits for his turn to talk.

"Are you really going out in this?" He asks with the calm that hardly ever seems to leave him.

"Why not? It's a lovely evening!" Ali exclaims with a smile.

"You like it more when the sea is all whipped up like this?"

"There's all different kinds of modes. And each one has its own character and way to be approached - This, for instance is not an occasion for snorkelling. But instead there's the feeling of the fighter being thrown into the ring with the biggest, baddest bully around - and then discovering that there's really no struggle on. One often ends up just as a close-up observer of the storm." Ali declares with open hands that have trouble to confine themselves to the space allotted to the passenger seat. "I mean, one can take the mountain to Mohammed and test oneself against the elements - But I normally just go in minding my own business and react only to whatever comes my way."

"Are you still being taken for a ride by your Vietnam buddies?" D enquires without any shift of gear to indicate a change in subject.

"Well, I don't perceive it that way." Ali answers with respectful dissidence, "We have a kind of matrix together where everything and everyone seems to slot in just so. And I make enough-"

"Not anywhere near what they make out of you."

"-Enough to maintain my trip of doing what I want with the Dance and the Sea." Ali finishes, reaching into his pocket to withdraw a packet of amphetamines. He swallows four times the recommended dose.

"You find those things really take you anywhere?" D asks with distaste, "They're really the drug of the aggressive psychotic. I'll get you some acid if you want."

"Great! But no, I don't have any problem with the speed, I find it just gets me to where I need to be and then the job's done."

"So it's midnight now. Another five hours until the dawn?"

"I'm not putting any limit on it." Ali says as he undoes his seatbelt. "Thanks for the ride!" Their eyes meet and the moment is prolonged by a flash of lightning. Ali smiles and leaves the car, reaching the sand as the next ominous roll of thunder kicks in. D waits until Ali is lost to view in the foam that coats the first twenty metres of the water like the bad breath of the furious ocean. He ignites the almost soundless engine and leaves his friend behind.

Materiality is less of an issue with Ali than anyone he knows. They both appreciate that the dynamics of life go beyond economic circumstances. Rich or poor, one still has to deal with the same fact of consciousness when waking up in the mornings. If anything, having the money to forget about immediate survival means that there's so much more time to face the miserable state of one's soul! He hates to see his friend being screwed, though and wonders if he'll be visiting his friend next year in a prison or even a graveyard, if he continues to neglect himself like this.

Fortunately, Ali is made of very tough stuff. He's carried up five metres and then falls with the water so that there is barely a splash as he lands. Everything is white and black as the foam finds common cause with the electric above as they light up the twin dark entropies of moonless night and ocean.

In the midst of the elemental commotion it's a constant discipline to stay relaxed and not be intimidated by the size and sound of the waves around him. To panic here really would be fatal. Each wave towers menacingly above Ali and pours itself over his head, inciting him to battle. But these are odds he does not dream of taking on and instead he just resumes his role of casual, self-respecting sea creature out on a night stroll, undaunted by the conditions that are just another rendering of the same water that he swims in every day.

But he can also pretend. Ali likes to play games in the water to let slide his everyday thoughts of the land. Tonight he is the Sea Monster! His legs stretch to each horizon and with the knife edge of his hands he slices the top clean off any wave! He bites froth and plunges into black ribbons of sea to emerge snarling! There is none to mess with Ali - None except the next big wave that slaps him straight in the face with half a ton of water, sending him crashing on his back through the swirling surface.

Ali's having so much fun that only as the determined roar of petrol reaches him does he realise that he's got company. Who the hell goes motoring on a night like this? Manic-depressive fishermen? He climbs on the shoulders of the next swell and, to his horror, sees that a life-saving boat has braved the storm to come and rescue him! Save me from the good intentions of others, Ali thinks as the boat rides another wave with a splash and a crash, ploughing through critical conditions to save the poor cast-adrift soul who must already be half-dead and full of sea-water. The boat lurches up a perilous slope and then nose down again, barely finding equilibrium before it's assailed again.

"Hold on!" They shout, "We're coming!" Six men in yellow life jackets untie an inflatable ring to throw out to Ali.

"Guys." He shouts in an effort to explain, "I'm okay! I don't need to be saved!" But unfortunately they're determined and brave and professionally qualified in these situations - They know who needs to be rescued and who doesn't!

"Hold on!" They shout again and the ring is hurled out to Ali who makes not the slightest motion towards it. The sky flashes white.

They take a lot of persuading that he really does want to be out there and, for a while, the situation really does become dangerous as they almost run over Ali in their efforts to bring him in. They are not happy men when they depart. They don't know how they are going to explain to their superiors why they didn't do their job when Ali inevitably washes in blue and bloated the next day.

There's so much action and excitement to deal with under the storm that Ali doesn't bother going far out, content to play where he is. The tempest dies down during the night so that only a friendly swell remains in the morning. Ali returns to the beach for a few minutes to stretch out and drink some water.

He goes back out under a bluing sky that makes the surf seem cheerful. He feels his way through the new currents and begins to duck and dive, a hundred metres out. De ja vu descends upon him as he hears the angry buzz of an engine spluttering towards him. He scowls as he turns to see that some young Thai punks are cutting up the water on their jet skis. They are not here to enjoy the beautiful morning or the permeations of the sea's surface. They are getting their kicks out of grinding acceleration, revving gear changes and sharp, splashing swerves on vehicles powered by testosterone!

Ali shouts to watch out as one approaches him but the engine is too loud for him to be heard. He front crawls to one side but as he does so, the Thai also adjusts his course, having sub-consciously registered Ali's presence in the corner of his vision and now steers towards him as a point of orientation. Ali curses and yells obscenities at this threat to his life and he hurls himself out of the way as the jet ski whizzes past, missing him by about a metre. The water is churned up to a fizz and the air is almost unbreathable with the stench of carbon monoxide.

It's hard for Ali to find his peace of mind after this, especially he must still be alert for the increased volume that indicates another approaching jet ski. There are six vehicles in the water and each is as thoughtless as the next. Ali knows it would be wiser to retreat home to his banana milkshakes but is too stubborn to be pushed out of the water by these idiots. By the fourth time that his skull is almost run over by these huge motorised hulls, he loses his cool. In a deliberate motion clear to the circling rider, Ali sticks out his bare foot at the guy - An unforgivable insult in this part of the world.

The deed has been done and the jet skis all wheel away to await Ali in the shallows. There's no postponing the confrontation and so Ali slowly pulls himself in to where the stage has been set. They have made a circle with an opening for Ali to come through. The fibre-glass bodies of their vehicles bob in the water with a truculent low rev. The expressions on the face of all the young men are typically blank and he wonders if they have murder or just mutilation on their minds. In Asia, Ali is aware, when you pick a fight with one you had better be ready to meet him and his army. Having little else to do, he swims into the centre of the circle and the gap is closed up at once. He wonders if they might be about to give him some free dental work.

But then something happens to astonish everyone concerned. Before anyone can make their move, the water starts to ruffle with small glints of silver. Little fish jump out of the water and land with impudent splashes. The first few are joined by tens and then hundreds more as, before anyone can quite register what's going on, the sea around them foams up with thousands of little fish going wild. The splashing froth and bubbles reach so high that no one can see each other. Ali decides it's the moment to swim out beneath the circle and back to the beach. He dries off and walks home without a look back.

As he treads the tarmac road, he hears a motorbike bearing down upon him from behind. He knows without looking who it will be. The Thai whom he insulted pulls up beside him with his engine still running. The boy stares at him intently and his eyes are full of a mix of fear, resentment and respect. He takes in Ali's bulky constitution, his bald, scarred head and as Ali opens his mouth to apologise he beholds the decaying teeth also.

"Ghost!" He cries in terror and speeds off before this dreadful phantom can curse his family with leprosy. Nowhere are they quite as superstitious as in South East Asia.

Ali doesn't know what to make of his morning but gives thanks for the benign protection coming in the nick of time.