Bali got smaller and smaller, and two hours after the boat cast off, we finally disappeared into a moist tropical afternoon. With
a fair wind one should be off the coast of Malaysia in five days and, one day later, dock at Kuala Terengganu in the north east. Africa was still thousands
of sea miles and many stories away, but it came up in conversations and stories as the subject of wild speculations and restless dreams. So it was not
surprising to find that in Malaysia, Africa was topical.
The xenographer was now the only passenger on the freighter. In Bali a Malaysian woman had taken passage, taking advantage of the occasion of her return
to Kuala Lumpur to make the slightly arduous, but nevertheless tranquil, crossing. The two women quickly got into conversation, and after the xerographer
had explained the reasons for her journey and her impressions of the first stops on her journey, the Malaysian returned the favour with her own story:
‘This necklace of beads is my most prized possession. Beads have always fascinated me. Even my first childhood memories are about beads. As
soon as I could read, I concentrated all my attention on studying the adventures of the various African explorers. Of course I was specially impressed
with the story of Stanley and Livingstone. I played safaris together with a friend, and of course in order to do this we had to calculate exactly how
many glass beads we would need in order to pay all the bearers.
I was just as enthusiastic about tropical butterflies. Originally I knew about them from the books of African explorers as well. I talked about
these books so much that pretty soon everybody knew how much the tropics interested me. One day, because of this, an uncle made me a present of a wooden
box in which two wonderful giant butterflies were mounted. |
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No-one could tell me where they came from. It was clear to me though that I would one day like to live in a country in which
butterflies like this lived. Both - butterflies and beads - I found again in Malaysia, half a lifetime and many detours later.
It was a long time before I could get away. The first chance I had to go abroad came to nothing because my father put down his foot. I could have gone
to Kenya as secretary to the press attaché at the embassy. By the time the second offer came, I was stronger, and in February 1972 I was sitting
in a plane to Kenya to work as secretary to the commercial delegate. But the two and half years I was there were a complete disappointment. I learned
that dreams which come true are no longer dreams. I didn’t like daily life in Nairobi. Africans, Europeans and Indians lived side by side in mutual
dislike. The antagonism disappointed me. The highly praised safaris did impress me, but the fifteenth elephant is still just an elephant, and doesn’t
look much different from the first.
I returned to Vienna and was convinced that I would never leave again. But shortly afterwards I was on my way again. This time to Malaysia. I had hardly
arrived before I knew I would want to stay here until I retired. The friendliness and reserved character of the people impressed me. There was also no
racism - Europeans, Chinese, Indians and Malaysians lived consciously side by side and with each other. This is where I met my husband, who has since
died. He was a journalist of some reputation with a gentle Asian soul and incredibly charming.
One day we visited an acquaintance, a millionaire tea planter of Anglo-Russian descent.
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