SABRIYA: Chapter 12 - A Bitter Farewell

Saturday, August 10, 2024 - 4:30 PM

Jai Kun

Sabriya had been watching the path that led from the lower school into the village when Busaba pointed out the small girl in the faded red shirt, black linen pants, and iridescent green sandals carrying a brown backpack. The little girl, who couldn’t have been much taller than a meter, sported a broad elastic band pulling her black hair into a bundle at the top of her head. Her face was rectangular, with a flattened nose, bright brown eyes, and a complete set of teeth that lit up her face when she smiled. 

“Jia,” said Busaba, taking the little girl by the hand after she had climbed into the house, “this is your aunt, my sister, Sabriya Kensington.”

Jia Kun stared up at Sabriya, but turned to Busaba, “Who is she?”

Sabriya and Busaba smiled at each other. “You can call me Auntie,” said Sabriya as she crouched down to greet her daughter at eye level. “I’m your mother’s sister. I haven’t seen you for ten years, when you were a very small child. Can I have a hug?”

Jia Kun nodded timidly as Busaba helped remove her backpack, allowing her to hug Aunt Sabriya.

Sabriya, of course, was shedding tears all this time, as she studied her secret daughter and tried to memorize every pore of the girl’s smiling face. 

“Mummie,” said Jia Kun, turning to Busaba, “I’m all sticky.” Then, turning to Sabriya, she said, “Are you going to bathe with Mummie and me before supper?”

Sabriya turned to Busaba for an explanation.

“On warm days like today, after the sun retreats behind the trees, we bathe at the woman’s place on the stream. It’s secluded. Do you want to come?”

Sabriya looked to Hannah and Jack, who both raised their eyebrows. Hannah snickered, turned to Jack, and said, “I’ll go. You stay here.”

“Yes, ma'am,” Jack smiled. 

The mountain stream was cold, but enlivening. Other women were there, but Sabriya saw no men, though she was aware that the man trailing them might be hidden. A few women and young girls like Jia Kun bathed in the raw, while others bathed modestly, wearing a loose-fitting neck-to-knee linen shirt, which Sabriya chose to wear, provided by Busaba. 

Sabriya rinsed her long black hair in the water, which felt good on her scalp. 

“Auntie, what is that on your neck?” Jia Kun asked, pointing to her kanji tattoo. Busaba also took an interest. 

Sabriya pulled back her hair and squatted in the stream, her back to her sister and niece so that they could see the neck tag up close. “It’s a tattoo I got in Japan. When I lived at a Catholic monastery in our northern mountains, I was baptized a Christian. Later, while in Japan, I had this tattooed on my neck to remind me of my relationship with our Creator God. It’s a Japanese kanji symbol meaning “ground,” “earth,” and “sacrifice.” You see, it is a cross standing on the ground. It means I am to stand tall on the firm ground and, with my arms outstretched, sacrificially be kind to others.”

Sabriya noticed that Busaba frowned at the explanation, but said nothing.

“Can I touch it?” asked Jia Kun.

“Of course. Trace it with your finger.” Sabriya held steady as her niece began to do so. But suddenly…

“No, don’t,” snapped Busaba.

Sabriya felt Mi’s small hand leave her neck. Turning, she saw Busaba pulling Jia Kun out of the stream toward the bank.

Sabriya gazed at Hannah, fully dressed on the bank, standing guard. Hannah shrugged.

The rest of the evening, Busaba was quiet and strained, although Sabriya generously shared the food they had brought. Busaba, however, mostly ignored it as it was not to their liking. Jia Kun, too, was restrained, afraid of angering her mother.

Sunday, August 11, 2024 - 9:00 AM

The next morning, as Sabriya and her team prepared to leave, and while Jack scouted the village for signs of their nefarious follower, Sabriya unpacked a small present and gave it to Jia Kun in the presence of Busaba. “Jia Kun, I want you to remember me, and know that I love you very much, and that I wish the best for you and your mother.” 

Jia unwrapped the gift and discovered a small jeweler’s box. Opening it, she found a shiny gold medallion about 40 mm in diameter on a gold herringbone chain. Engraved on the medallion were symbols. Jia Kun was awestruck by the unusual gift. “What is this? What’s it for?”

Glancing at Busaba and hoping for approval, Sabriya explained. “It’s a medallion you wear around your neck, although you probably don’t want to wear it to school because it could get lost. Your mother can keep it safe, and you can wear it on special days. It is made with real gold and is worth a lot of money.” 

Sabriya glanced at Busaba, whose eyes were large in wonder at why such a gift would be given to a child. 

Sabriya continued, “On the front is the engraving of an angel holding a sword. This is St. Michael the Archangel and his sword. St. Michael is the head of God’s army of angels over all the earth. You can pray to St. Michael and ask him to use his sword to protect you from danger.” Sabriya flipped the medallion over. “On the back is an engraving of the Japanese kanji symbol for Earth, or Foundation, as I like to think of it, which you saw on the back of my neck. Remember, it is a cross with its arms outstretched, standing on the ground, meaning Jia Kun will always be a beautiful foundation, which is what your name means. You will always be ready to help others, and you can ask God’s archangel, Michael, to help you.”

Jia Kun's eyes were as big as rice bowls, and looked between the medallion and her mother as if to ask her if she could put it on.

Sabriya looked to Busaba, asking the same question. 

Busaba gritted her teeth and furrowed her brow, but nodded, as if she wasn't pleased with the gift, but yes, Jia could put it on.

Sabriya showed Jia Kun how to work the clasp, then helped her fasten it around her neck. Jia held up the St. Michael-Foundation medallion around her neck and studied it with a big smile before letting it lie back on her chest.

“Jia, I agree with Auntie,” said Busaba. “You should not wear that to school. You might lose it, or someone will take it from you.”

Without being asked, Jia Kun embraced Sabriya. Thank you, Auntie Sabriya. I will wear it whenever I am home. Mummie, can I wear it to sleep?” she said, nearly jumping up and down with glee.

That was good enough for Sabriya.

Some minutes later, the embassy’s emissaries were packed and ready to trek out of the village, hoping their car had not been tampered with and would get them back to Meijing. Jia Kun had left the medallion with Busaba and had gone off to school. 

Busaba saw her sister off, but before they left the village, Busaba had a word for her elder. “I’m not sure I want Jia wearing that medallion. I’m not so uneducated as you think. I know that kanji symbol literally means dirt, and Jia Kun is not dirt. She is beautiful and good.” 

“No, sister. In this case, that symbol means Jia Kun is a Foundation, like the Earth or the ground, like the secure foundation of your bamboo platform on which you built your house. With God’s help and his angels, she will be solid and trustworthy.”

“As trustworthy as you’ve been to her and me?” shot back Busaba. Raising her voice, Busaba made matters worse. “You chose to leave Jia Kun with me, and burden me with her, which has deprived me of a better life I might have had.”

Jack and Hannah turned slightly as if to make it known that they were listening. Maybe it was time to leave for the trail? 

Busaba turned to Jack and Hannah, then pointed to Sabriya, “Just so you know, my sister’s the mom, I’m the aunt.”

There was a sudden pregnant silence in the forest as if all the birds of the jungle had suddenly stopped their whistles, clicks, squawks, and chikeree chatter. Sabriya froze in anger, Busaba smirked at Jack and Hannah, who gazed back at the sisters in mild surprise. 

Sabriya was stunned and speechless. The secret that Jia Kun was her daughter was no longer a secret. What to do? What to say? Sabriya imagined her marriage unraveling. She stumbled, her mind distracted by the lie of her double life that David would soon know about. No way out, now. All she could do was fumble ahead.  With all her confidence, her voice quavered. “Busaba, that’s unfair. I’ve come humbly and gifted you a lot of money, money I know should have come earlier. I just wanted to make you whole. But why are you angry? You said you loved Jia Kun, and would raise her like a mother, and I’d be her auntie, remember?” There was justice in that, wasn’t there?

“Out of necessity, yes. But what of my sacrifice?”

Sabriya could not believe her sister was serious. “I guess I should never have come.”

“That would have been a good idea. We’ve made it this far without you.”

“So, I should stay away? Is that what you want? What of Jia Kun's wishes? Should she never see me again?” 

“That might be best,” shot back Busaba. 

Busaba’s rejection saddened Sabriya, especially after Sabriya had given Busaba the pouch of money. Clearly, the money was too little too late. Recovering from her sister’s rejection and exposure of her lie, Sabriya glanced at Jack and Hannah, who had heard everything. Their expressions were surprising. Neither Jack nor Hannah looked surprised, although they did stare at her as if she had some explaining to do. Jack’s face was mostly stoic—no sign of emotion. What a strange reaction, Sabriya thought. Hannah’s mouth revealed a disappointed but subtle smile like a best friend should react to something she suspected all along. 

“We should be going,” said Jack. “Thank you, Busaba, for your hospitality. We enjoyed getting to know you and, especially, meeting Jia Kun.” 

What a professional, thought Sabriya. He’s saving the lecture for the trail. Oh, what have I done, what wicked thickets I’ve dared to trek?

The three shouldered their packs, and with Jack in the lead and Hannah behind, the trio trekked out of the village.

SABRIYA: Chapter 11 - The Net Tightens

 

Saturday, August 10, 2024 - 9:00 AM

Marco, the dutiful associate of the region’s trafficking king, parked his Suzuki 120 cc sport bike next to a busy outdoor cafe. He took a table with a perfect view of the British Embassy’s gate. The cafe was west of the Embassy, so any traffic exiting the gate with Sabriya and heading west to the mountains allowed him time to casually leave the cafe, hop on his bike, and follow at a safe distance. Following Embassy traffic would not be terribly difficult, as there were few roads out of Meijing heading west, so there was little chance the route would be circuitous. 

Marco had barely settled down with his first cup of cappuccino when the Embassy gate opened, and a black Nissan sedan rolled out, heading west. As it passed his table, only a couple of meters from the street, he was surprised the vehicle had no privacy glass. A white male, probably British security, was driving, looking ridiculous in a cheap chauffeur’s cap. In the back was his unmistakable target, Sabriya Kensington, the ambassador’s wife, sitting with a white woman who seemed particularly serious and alert, peering out the windows. More security? Why they were traveling so conspicuously was a mystery to Marco, but he was not one to complain. He casually put out his cigarette, finished his brew, got on the Suzuki, and followed the Nissan west.

Once out of the city, they made good progress in the lower plains, where the roads were mostly clear this early in the morning and straight. He held back considerably so the driver would not notice him tailing. The Nissan drove past small villages of several dozen shacks or sheds, clumped together with no yards or roads between them, and barely enough space to walk from one peasant house to another. Farther from the city, they passed rice and wheat fields, and closer to the mountains, they came upon homes near the road where cocoa and coffee beans were spread out to dry in the sun on mat blankets before the mats were taken up and the beans bagged for market. As they approached the mountains, the road rose and narrowed, and finally the switchbacks took over. Finally, in the mid-afternoon, the paved road ended in a clearing that led to a rutted dirt road passable only for bicycles or cycles, large-wheeled carts, pack animals, children, and farmers, possibly with bamboo yokes with baskets hung from each end. 

Marco held back and ducked his bike into the brush when the Nissan parked by the side of the road. The group exited the car, laced up their boots, and donned tactical backpacks. Marco had not counted on a trek through the forest, and on foot, he would have to be ever more careful not to reveal his presence. It was cooler now that they were 900 meters up the mountainside, especially with the shade of oaks, chestnuts, pines, and bamboo that blocked the ever-present sun. The well-trodden, dirt trail hugged the side of a small river flowing in the opposite direction—evidence of steady rainfall in the area. He needn’t worry about noise he might make with the calls of hornbills, the whistles of thrushes and warblers, and the click of cicadas in the surrounding forest. The farther up the Pangina Mountains switchbacks they traveled, the slower he had to go to avoid following too closely and being recognized.

Soon, he was high enough to look down on the forests below and the persistent mist or fog that blanketed the lower elevations. Printed signs back in the clearing and along the path told him they were approaching the village of Miwu Cun. Soon, he would have to leave the trail and follow them from the camouflage of brush.

Saturday, August 10, 2024 - 3:30 PM

“The village is pretty much as I remember it,” said Sabriya, as the group stood in a clearing on a slight rise in the path with the eighteen or so dwellings scattered before them. Unlike the villages near the city, which were made of small shacks stacked close together under the blazing sun, Miwu Cun village was spread out on a lush hillside, with the rocky peaks of the Pangina visible to the west. Due to the hilly terrain, each hut had been erected on secure, level bamboo platforms, yards apart, allowing privacy. Their thick, thatched walls and roofs, covered in living blankets of dense green moss, kept the dwellings cool during the day and warm at night. Walking paths meandered around small vegetable and spice gardens and pens for hogs, while village dogs and cats roamed free to greet visitors or run from them.

Sabriya pointed to a distant hut, “That was Busaba’s house when I was last here. But everything looks bigger and a bit different.” 

“A lot can change in 11 years,” murmured Hannah. Jack and I will stay here. You go ahead and see if you can find your sister. Leave your pack here. Jack? Jack?” Hannah turned around, looking for her husband.

Suddenly, before Sabriya could drop her pack….

“SABRIYA?” 

Sabriya whirred around to greet a young, frail woman who had followed them up the path to the village. The woman looked like Sabriya’s twin, except her eyes were dark and stressed, her mouth downturned, her red blouse and gray skirt old but clean, as was her face and hair, as if she had just bathed in the river. She balanced a jug of water on her head. Sabriya exclaimed, “Busaba!” 

The two stared at each other for just an instant before Busaba set her jug of water down and enthusiastically hugged her sister. Busaba’s oval face, thick black eyebrows, large brown eyes, flat nose, and full lips reflected her excitement at seeing her sister. But questions and concerns cascaded from her brow. Her dark green linen trousers were soiled from labor in the fields, along with her white muslin top with a wide-open neck. Busaba looked older than she remembered, her hair cut short, but clean. 

Releasing Sabriya from her embrace, Busaba held her sister at arm’s length and exclaimed, “You’re alive.” 

“Yes. I’m sorry. I did appear dead to you, I know.” 

Both sisters wiped away tears and embraced again.

“And these are?” Busaba asked, gazing at Jack and Hannah. But before Sabriya could do the introductions, “Wait!” said Busaba, staring at the British-looking couple. “Is it true?” Busaba was astonished. Did you marry that British ambassador? Did you meet our Queen and give a speech?”

Sabriya was embarrassed that she had not sought out Busaba earlier. She answered quietly, “Yes, it was me.” 

Busaba clamped her hands over her mouth, stepped back, and stared back and forth between Sabriya and her security team, or at least half of the team. Jack was missing.

“Busaba, this is Hannah Clark. Her husband, Jack… where’s Jack, Hannah?”

Hannah shook her head, looked behind them on the trail they had just been on, and said, “I don’t know.”

Sabriya turned back to Busaba, “Well, they work with the Embassy. They’re my security team, but also my close friends.” She looked up, “Here he is.”

Jack came up the trail from behind Busaba. Neither Sabriya nor Hannah had noticed his lagging behind. 

“Jack, Hannah, this is my sister, Busaba.” They all shook hands. “Jack drove us to the head of the trail. It took from early morning to just now to get here from Meijing.” Sabriya glanced at Jack and saw the concern on his face, and how he nudged Hannah, causing them both to turn back to the trail as Jack whispered something to Hannah. Recognizing an opportunity before it slipped away, Sabriya turned her back to Jack and Hannah, then winked at Busaba, and then very deliberately and slowly said, “Tell me, sister. How is your daughter? My niece, Jia Kun?”

Busaba held her breath and stared strangely at Sabriya, but after a moment, her expression shifted. She smiled, although it seemed a bit forced. “She’s almost 12 now, in a few weeks. She’s at lower school now between our village and the next, in that direction.” She pointed to a trail past some of the dwellings. She’ll be home soon.” After a long pause, neither sister knew what to say. Jack and Hannah turned back from their whispering. Trying to force a smile, Busaba said, “Come to my hut. Have some tea.”

Busaba led the trio to her dwelling, along with their packs. Inside, she cleared a corner of her spacious one-room home for them to unroll their bedding and settle in. She served tea to everyone and then led Sabriya outside to a clearing, away from Jack and Hannah. 

Sabriya saw that Busaba was bitter. She needed to let her sister vent and hoped there was a way to make up for years of absence and neglect.

“They don’t know, do they?” Hannah spat out like a mouthful of bitter herbs.

“Nor does my husband. I need to keep it that way.” 

“You mean, Kensingston, the ambassador? Is that his name? 

Sabriya nodded, “David Kensington.” 

Busaba collected her thoughts and dug out the plug of disappointment that had formed a dam of bitterness. “Why’d you show up now, after all these years? You disowned your daughter, never sent the money you promised. Now here you are in all your fine clothes.” Busaba looked Sabriya over with skepticism. “What are you in the British army now, with this, what, a uniform? How did you marry an ambassador of all people? And you never told me? Why!?”

Busaba was angry and rightfully so, Sabriya thought.

“It’s a long story. The details can wait for another time. But here’s the short version. I have desperately wanted to write you almost every week of my life these past years, now lost. But I was prevented, most of the time, and then I was afraid the rest of the time. After I left Jia Kun with you, I got far away from here in case I was followed. I didn’t want them to find you or Jia Kun. That was the main reason I disappeared. To protect you and my child. After wandering homeless for weeks, I was taken in by Catholic nuns a long way from here. They promised to protect me, but only if I did not communicate with anyone outside the monastery. That went on for several years. And afterwards, I was afraid that if I contacted you, the men we’re both hiding from would find you, and I didn’t want what happened to our parents and the village to happen to you. I was desperate and afraid. I did get a few secret letters off, but not like I wanted. Then David found me, we married, and suddenly the British government took us out of the country. He was a diplomat in Burma, then Japan, and then Vietnam for years. Only last month was he named Ambassador to Pellagore, and we’re back here, in Meijing. Today is the first chance I’ve had to come, and I so desperately wanted to. Here, take this…”

Sabriya took the small pouch from her vest pocket, looked around to see if anyone was watching, and unfolded a fistful of Pellagore currency. “This is for you and Jia Kun, and there’s more to come.”

Busaba was speechless. Sabriya was sure her sister had never seen so much money at one time.

“Here, put it back in this pouch, and you must hide it, and not let anyone know you have this, or they will take it.” 

Busaba fumbled with the money, and together they stuffed it back in the small leather pouch and tied it up. “Sister, I’m afraid your coming will bring danger to our lives, here in our mountain sanctuary. We are so far away and hidden, so far, but you’re coming here...”

“Yes, that’s the fear I’ve had, for years,” Sabriya admitted. “They are still after me, I am certain. He will never forget what I did in leaving him and taking his stupid god’s sacred charm and money. Have you heard or seen anything of him or his gang?”

“No, nothing, and we’ve been careful not to have anything to do with or let our friends back in Hathou know where we are. Do you know anything about them….our village?”

“A little. Several years ago, before we were married, David arranged for an Australian group to come in and rebuild Hathou. The dwellings and farms were revitalized, as they called it. They drilled two wells and installed a solar pump for clean water. Our village is doing well, last I heard. ”

“But you drove in a car to the trail head, didn’t you, from Meijing?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, Sabriya, he will follow you. I’m sure of it. They will know where we are now. That is not good.”

Sabriya nodded. “Where is brother Huy? Is he here?”

“No. Maybe you forgot. You came with Jia Kun only a short time after Father was killed, and Hathou burned. Huy brought me here, then you brought Jia Kun. He stayed long enough to make sure this hut was fixed, it had been abandoned, and we were safe. Then he left to find work, before you came. He ended up in the Philippines, got work on one of those big ocean boats. He travels far and wide, makes good money, and sends me some when he can. That is what we have lived on. But I have not received anything from him in a long time, and I’ve borrowed from our village’s big man. I will pay him back now with some of this,” she said, gripping the pouch of money.

“Busaba, dear sister, please forgive me for my years of absence. Is Jia Kun healthy?”

“Sister, I must admit bitterness still stings my heart. My life and Jia Kun's have been hard and often sad. But she is a good daughter to me, and I have loved her as my own.”

Sabriya paused—Busaba called Jia Kun her “daughter.” That saddened Sabriya, but it was true in an absolute sense. Sabriya gently took Busaba’s hands in hers and, with tears, said, “Dear sister. I am sure that you have been a good mother to Jia Kun, more than her own, and it is good to hear she has been a good daughter to you. I am not here to take Jia Kun from you. What do you wish? Will you let me be her Auntie? I will make good on my promise, now that I am married to a good man with some modest wealth and living here in Pellagore. I will support you and Jia Kun as I am able.”

Busaba stared at Sabriya with a straight mouth and hard eyes. “I have not married. I have no man to love, and our brother has left us alone. It is not good with us. We are treated with politeness, but we have no family. Jia Kun is good, and she has school friends, but I am alone.”

“Will you let me see my niece?” asked Sabriya. I have a present for her.”

Busaba’s eyes softened a little, but she nodded yes. “She will be back soon from school. I will fix us some food from what I have, it’s not much.”

Sabriya smiled. “We brought food, we will share it with you and leave you more.”

“Thank you, sister,” Busaba said, still with some sadness.

When they returned to Busaba’s hut, Jack and Hannah were standing in the entryway, looking toward the village and the path from which they had come. Jack quietly spoke to Sabriya. “I am pretty sure a man on a motorbike has followed us, all the way from Meijing, and then on foot up the trail. As we neared the village, he disappeared into the bush. I do not think we are in any immediate danger, but Hannah and I will be on guard throughout the night, and I suggest we leave first thing in the morning.”

Sabriya stiffened. “O Lord, have mercy. Busaba feared this very thing. She fears the men who chased us from our village years ago still hold a grudge and might have followed me here. Had I not made that speech with Queen Devi, they might not have known I was here, and would not now know where my sister and Jia Kun live. What can we do?”

“Stay vigilant,” said Hannah.

“I will talk with David when we return,” said Jack. “There may be some good that will come from your new relationship with the Queen. In retrospect, I should have tried to lose the guy following us, but I didn’t notice until we were well on our way, and there was no clear opportunity for, as a lizard would call it, tail shedding.”

Sabriya thought about the lizard in her past and had hoped her attempts to shed its skin were complete. But this new information of being tailed, shredded that hope.

SABRIYA: Chapter 10 - Comeuppance

Flashback - May 2018

Sapae Nok Village
Kolinggar Mountains

The 17 and 19-year-old boys harassed the younger maiden by playing tug-of-war with her skirt, until the skirt came off and she fell half-naked onto the roadway. Incapable of restraining his misogyny, the younger boy topped off the escapade by kicking mud into the innocent girl's face.

Sabriya watched it all unfold. 

“DON’T!” Sister Alma snapped at Sabriya. “It’s none of our concern.”

But Sabriya ignored the elder nun and catapulted herself at the boys.

It was an unsettling moment in what was usually a casual and enjoyable day. Sabriya enjoyed organizing the monastery’s stall on market days in nearby Sapae Nok, a modest village settled among the terraced mountainside. But today was different.

Earlier, Sabriya had watched the 18 and 19-year-old boys, dressed in Western jeans and faded American football T-shirts, swagger through the market, talking rudely to vendors, tapping their cigarette ashes onto vendors’ products, and flicking hot cigarette butts at vendors who objected. But the boys avoided the nuns’ booth, perhaps because of Sister Alma’s omniscient glare, who, although in full Carmelite nun regalia—brown habit, cap, and white wimple—appeared more like a Sumo Wrestler complete with a three-pound crucifix at the end of her heavy-metal rosary that she swung menacingly from her belt.

Monthly, in a designated market area, the town provided stacks of wooden pallets and crates on which commercial vendors and villagers spread fabric to create tabletops for their wares, crafts, and foodstuffs. Tourists were frequent during the summer months, since Sapae Nok was accessible by motorcar. Sabriya and Sister Alma would cart monastery goods a half-mile down the mountain path and sell them to supplement the monastery’s income. Among their goods were medicinal herbs such as dried roots and leaves; honey; fruit preserves; balms or salves for joints, muscles, skin rashes, and headaches; herbal oils, incense, and candles; hand-woven, wood-beaded rosaries; hand-scribed and colored prayer cards; and hand-carved wooden crucifixes. 

St. Mary Elias items were always modestly priced, and never was there any haggling, bartering, or a hawking spiel by the sisters. Thus, potential buyers were always drawn to the sisters’ stall for the quality of their products and the nuns’ gentle honesty. Many would come to the market just to talk or counsel with the sisters. Some buyers would ask for prayers, telling the sister to “keep the change.” For Sabriya, it was a joyful occasion, one she enjoyed leading. And, of course, although she and Sister Alma were in charge of the stall, a dozen other sisters, and often Mother Superior, would come in groups throughout the day to shop for the monastery’s needs, as well as remake acquaintances with the villagers. 

Generally, villagers were gentle and courteous. But once in a while, and on this particular day, there was trouble. Usually, a constable was present to mitigate such occasions. Still, with multiple duties and a large market footprint, the constable wasn’t always nearby when needed, which was the case when Sabriya was forced to take action. 

The teens had evidently found the harassment of vendors monotonous and so the young bucks had turned their attention to a peasant girl, perhaps 15, pretty as she was shy, and she was pretty shy. The boys walked menacingly close to the girl and sandwiched her thin body between their bulks, all the while taunting her. Although Sabriya could not hear exactly what the boys said, their taunts and gestures had been clearly sexual. The young girl turned beet-red, quite a feat given her dark complexion. She wore a plain bonnet, the sides of which hid her eyes from seeing their faces as long as she kept her head straight ahead, which also prevented the perverts from seeing her face unless they got directly in front of her and walked backwards, which they eventually did. The girl tried to outwalk the boys or head off in another direction, her arms folded tightly across her well-developed chest. But the boys didn’t give up. 

Sabriya saw all this, elbowed Sister Alma, who crossed herself and whispered a Hail Mary. 

But when the boys started grabbing at the girl’s arms and tugging at her threadbare skirt, Sabriya put down the prayer card she was admiring and stepped away from the table.

“DON’T!” Sister Alma snapped at Sabriya. “It’s none of our concern.”

But Sabriya’s attention was entirely on the boys and the girl about 30 meters away. At first, she was upset at the boys’ harassment, but grew enraged when the men and women tending stalls near the confrontation turned and backed away. That was reprehensible. 

Knocking the vulnerable girl to the ground and kicking sand in her face was the last straw. Kicking off her sandals, Sabriya ran on bare but calloused feet. At first, the boys didn’t notice her quick advance until she darted between them and the girl, faced the boys, and put the girl at her back.

In mock shock, the boys, who were taller than Sabriya, laughed.

“Apologize to her, and leave, both of you,” steamed Sabriya, “or I’ll make sure that when you do leave, you won’t be walking.” 

“Oooo. Scary woman with brain sickness,” said the younger wanna-be bully. 

“She crazy,” said the older. “She need to learn place of woman.” Whereupon both advanced on Sabriya, fists raised and clenched like amateur boxers. 

At that moment, Sabriya realized several things. These boys were not fighters, and there was indeed going to be a fight—one woman against two towering fools. But even after five years of training and earning a third-degree Wing Chun black-belt, Sabriya had never been in a real fight. Not good, she thought, but never too late to start. 

She centered herself, faced the boys directly, extended her arms halfway toward their center, and rotated her wrists, elbows in, hands open. Her left hand invited them to their attack, while her right hand guarded her center.

“Oooo! Watch out, Shin,” the younger one said mockingly. “She know kung fu.”

“We see,” said the older as he thrust his left foot forward and launched his right fist at Sabriya’s head.

Sabriya barely flinched. Instinctually and instantly, her left arm rotated out counterclockwise, deflecting the boy’s punch, and at the same time, her right open hand closed to a vertical fist and blasted the boy’s solar plexus, doubling him over. Simultaneously, Sabriya’s right knee came up sharply and struck the boy’s falling chin. Then, a split second later, her deflecting hand came down hard on the boy’s exposed neck. The combination was over in the blink of an eye.

With the older boy crumpled on the ground, trying to regain his breath, Sabriya rotated and squared off against the younger, who took one look at his friend, a second at the relaxed and poised nun (or so he thought), and suddenly, aggression took over. He was there to fight. One step back and three forward, he launched himself at great speed through the air at the otherwise diminutive woman. Nuns aren’t allowed to fight, he was thinking. But Sabriya was not a nun. His outstretched fist came quickly for her throat, but at the last second, his body rotated, his fist pulled in to increase his rotational velocity, and the heel of his left foot swung rapidly in front, aimed directly at her temple. But Sabriya was ready, and rotated her guard hand outward, grasped the boy’s flailing pant leg, and jerked it out of the air, forcing the boy to land hard on his back with a THUD and a CRACK. The wanna-be bully was stunned and temporarily paralyzed. Sabriya dropped her guard, left both boys in agony on the ground, walked over to the young girl, and helped her up. “Come with me, my dear. Is that your mother over there?”

Cowering near a stall was a short peasant woman, about 35 years old, her face scarred with fright and her arms weakly reaching for the girl. 

“Yes, ma’am. She crippled.” 

“And your father?”

“He be gone long time.” 

Sabriya put her arms under the girl’s and helped her walk to her mother, who could hardly walk herself. At the same time, she gestured for Sister Alma. When Sister arrived, Sabriya whispered, “Please give this girl’s mother some Yuan from our earnings. Be generous. God will reward us. I have more to do.”

Sister Alma was quick to oblige. She comforted the poor girl and her mother, took money from her habit’s pocket, and gave it to the surprised and grateful mother.

Meanwhile, Sabriya walked back and stood over the boys, who were still lying on the ground nursing their wounds and egos. “Get up, fools. Walk or crawl away. Now! Or, I’ll make sure you wish you had.”

The boys struggled to get up. Sabriya stood back, on guard, in case either was tempted to be more foolish than before. 

As they stumbled away, a final warning: “Never come back to this market. Redeem your ways, or hell will open its gates in greeting.”

Sabriya watched him stumble down the road away from the market. She then turned to face Sister Alma, who was returning from ministering to the girl and her mother. But what Sabriya saw was more than a dozen adult stall owners, both men and women, still cowering behind their crates, apparently now afraid of the lay sister from the monastery as if they were guilty and worthy of rebuke, which they were.

 

As Sabriya rode along in the back of the rocking Nissan with Hannah, she thought back to that fateful day in the Sapae Nok market. She could still picture everything in her mind so clearly: the makeshift stalls and crates, the colorful villagers, the poor peasant woman and her daughter, the two boys. She would never forget their mocking and later terrified faces. She was humbled by her actions and praised by the nearby stall keepers, whom the boys had harassed. She also clearly remembered Sister Alma praising her in front of Mother Superior and Sister Sensei Linsim, who spent time with Sabriya to help calm her nerves. The fight, although short, had frightened Sabriya for hours after it was over, and she found her body shaking from some automatic bodily function, evidently preparing her to continue the fight, although there was no need. Sister Linsim said the emotions were natural and her body would return to normal by the next day. Sabriya sought no praise for what she did. It was something she seemingly could not control. It reminded her too much of her past.

But there was a mystery. David Kensington was visiting the market that day and, from a short distance, evidently witnessed everything. As much as she searched her memory, she did not recall ever seeing the tall, handsome Brit at the market. Where was he standing and watching, she wondered. She had never asked him. During their courtship, David told her that, after the brief fight and while she had withdrawn to calm down, he had visited her stall and spoken with Sister Alma to learn the monastery’s name and location. Tragedy has a way of redeeming itself, she thought, although she wondered whether that was true in every situation.