It's Moments Like These ........

John and I have enjoyed our sailing trips into South East Asia; we love the people and especially their customs which to some must seem quaint. Customs in south-east Asian countries are, of course, very different to those in Australia and other western countries. For instance, there is a certain standard of dress that we are expected to adopt there - especially the women. We need to be dressed modestly with shoulders, elbows and knees covered. So, while we are sailing along with no-one within cooee of us, I may sit in the cockpit in swimmers, but as soon as a local boat comes towards us on goes a sarong and t-shirt. Not the most glamorous attire but acceptable to their sensibilities and customs. Mind you, I'm sure that most of the boats come close by on the off-chance they may see a western woman flaunting her body for them to oggle. There should certainly be no nudity but we have heard of some inconsiderate yachties who have showered on the decks of their boats in front of Muslim locals. This shows a total lack of consideration for their beliefs and allows the locals to go on believing that all western women are cheap and loose. It is also unacceptable for members of the opposite sexes to hold hands. Boys will hold hands with boys, and girls with girls - the former really seems strange to westerners but is common practice over there. There must be no contact whatsoever in public between even husband and wife. No hand-holding, no protective arm around the waist and certainly no kissing.

My husband, John, and I always tried to show respect for their beliefs and we are always very careful to dress appropriately and act with decorum in public. We walk together without touching and certainly show no affection in public. However, all my good intentions were for nought one day in Malaysia a few years ago.

The shopping in S.E. Asia can be fantastic. Singapore is great for hardware but if you want cheap software, Malaysia is the place to go looking. We haunted computer software shops always on the lookout for new programs that we or family were interested in. On this particular day we were browsing in a little shop in Johor Bahru, in southern mainland Malaysia. It was a narrow store with a central partition that displayed heaps of software on either side of the partition and also on the side walls. The partition created two narrow aisles about 1.5m wide at most, so it was a very tight squeeze. Not so bad for tiny framed Asians but for westerners it can be a bit narrow. John and I were standing reasonably close but facing opposite directions as we checked out the displays. We were absorbed in our search and time passed quickly. After a while a group of people entered the shop and I stepped back to allow them to pass in front of me. As I did, I bumped into John and lost my balance. And that’s when the word “decorum” abruptly disappeared from my vocabulary. To steady myself I put a hand out behind me and, coming into contact with John’s leg and totally without thinking, I grabbed hold and gave it a couple of pats and an affectionate squeeze while saying, “Sorry, love.” I turned to look at him and the smile froze on my face. That wasn’t John’s face looking back at me. I looked down at my hand which still had a firm grip and my worst fears were realised. I wasn't gripping John's leg. In fact I wasn't gripping anybody’s leg. John had obviously moved earlier and was standing a good two metres away from me. What I actually had in my hand was the plump left buttock of an elderly Malaysian gentleman. A range of emotions flashed across this poor man’s face. Disbelief, embarrassment ………who knows what he was thinking. I felt my face flame a bright red. I saw his face going as red as I think mine must have been then it went white.

Mortified, I ripped my hand back and stammered “Ma’af, ma’af” (Sorry, sorry). I bolted to John who was standing perfectly still, staring at me with a look of
amazement on his face. But was he sympathetic? Oh no. It was very obvious that he
was having trouble keeping the laughter in check. His lips were twitching and I’m
sure I could see tears starting to roll down his cheeks. But he did manage, with some small degree of control, to say “Boy, you must REALLY be embarrassed.” Then he obviously was unable to hold it in any more and the laughter exploded out of him. “How embarrassing”, he kept repeating between guffaws. The other customers looked on in bewilderment as John struggled to control himself and my “victim” fled from the store as fast as his legs could carry him.

We left the shop behind him, unable to face the shop attendants, and returned to Sokari without buying anything. For a long time, I would go cold whenever I thought of the incident. John, of course, continued to think it was the funniest thing he'd ever seen and over time I came to see the funny side of it. I continued to wonder how that poor little man coped that day. Even now, I still imagine him laying out his prayer mat at the Mosque later in the afternoon and whispering out of the corner of his mouth to his friends, “You won’t believe what happened to me today. One of those loose western women grabbed my bottom. They really are as bad as we’ve been warned.”

But try as I might, in my imagination I can’t decide whether he is complaining
or boasting.