Note: Name change. Jai Kun's friend, who was kidnapped at the same time, was known as "Dao." I've recently changed her name to "Gely Suy" to honor a Customer Service Representative from S.E. Asia that helped me solve a problem with software. Thanks, Gely...Gely Suy is an important character in this story, though you won't know why until the very end.
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| Master Sengha |
Thursday, August 15, 2024 - 10:04 AM
The Pangina Mountain terrain, just west of Yung Fa Ho, was a paradox of lush, fertile valleys and ancient, weathered rock columns left by natural erosion. Hundreds, perhaps thousands, of years ago, Buddhist and Daoist monks carved a steep, sacred staircase into the rock substrate, leading from the valley’s green vegetation to the massive, moss-covered conglomerate pillar on which the Sapphire Wat Phra temple was perched. At the base of the ascent, large white aerial roots of an ancient Banyan tree channel a mammoth boat constrictor as they wrap around the walls of an antecedent shrine, commanding awe, if not adoration, of how natural and man-made structures can coalesce.
Sabriya’s SEC would not scale the 400-meter-high, steep, and narrow staircase to the monastery, and, despite her physical conditioning and sometimes fearless demeanour, heights were her foe and vertigo her ruin. As she climbed the staircase and calmed her nerves, she was reminded of the Buddhist emphasis on suffering, the pursuit of perfection, the importance of virtue, wisdom, patience, and truthfulness, and of how actions have consequences that determine one’s future. On the surface, such values and the recognition of karma were not that different from Catholic moral teachings on Natural Law, which explained how a Buddhist monk and a Catholic nun could become friends, as Master Singha and Sister Linsim had become, while pursuing the intricacies of Wing Chun kung fu.
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| Sister Linsim |
Near the top of the staircase, before she entered the Temple gate and Monastery plaza surrounded by cream brick buildings and pointy canopied roofs of green tile with upturned corners, Sabriya came to a rocky outcrop that loomed hundreds of meters above the verdant valley. There on the edge, in Padmasana, or Lotus pose, sat her venerable sensei in his brown and maroon priestly robes, facing the infinite expanse of the haze-covered valley. Master Sengha was the picture of serenity, basking in a state of relaxation that Sabriya could not imagine. In her mind, she saw Jia Kun on the outcrop, but her daughter was not sitting securely on the rock; she was dangling over the edge, suspended by a frayed thread.
Joining Singha on his rock required a literal leap of faith, over a 50-meter chasm, at the bottom of which was a mystical stream of water, the source of which was a mystery at this height on what appeared to be a barren monolith. Evidently, reaching serenity required risking one’s life. Sabriya was sure Jia Kun was not risking less. She jumped and landed with a thump—suddenly shattering her sensei’s peace.
The monk turned in surprise. “Sabriya?!”
Sabriya bowed low in honor of her sensei.”I come on an urgent matter, Master.”
“A long way you have come. Are you well?”
“Well enough, but not in mind.”
“Anguish is temporary, my dear, made smooth by the many waters of a flowing, ever-changing stream.”
“Miwu Cun. Do you know this village?”
Singha thought for only a moment. “Yes, the lost mist village. It is nearby, not nearly lost as it would seem.”
“My niece and my daughter, who is 12 years old, live there with my sister. Only recently, after many years, have I been reunited with them.”
“They are one and the same, this niece and daughter? ”
“Yes, a long-held secret for her safety.” Sabriya paused to collect her thoughts and a semblance of serenity. “Yesterday, two men kidnapped her and a friend on their way to school. We believe they are being trafficked, perhaps out of the country. They were taken from the village in an old, green, rusted cargo van and driven here into the Yung Fa Ho district. To find the van, rescue my daughter and her friend, and bring justice to the traffickers is my objective. The boy who escaped from the captors described the van as resembling a frog. Do you know of such a van, possibly green and old?”
The Sensei closed his eyes, relaxed, and thought deeply. After a minute, “My daughter, this may not bring you the peace you seek.”
“What do you mean? To seek justice is to seek peace. To avoid justice is to avoid peace.”
“Do you really seek justice or revenge?”
“When a child is violated, justice and revenge are one and the same, are they not?”
“It may seem so, but to bring harm to another is not peace. To aggravate belligerence will only increase hostility.”
“Hostility will not increase or even continue if the justice is swift, sure, and secure. Wing Chun does not seek increasing attacks, but complete surrender.”
“With honor.”
“Is punishment for wrongdoing honorable?”
“It is desirable.”
“Is wrongdoing honorable?”
“It is not, but surrender can be.”
“Is evil honorable?”
“It is not, but to recant from evil can be.”
“If there is no recanting, is there honor?”
At this, Sensei recanted. “There can be honor in retreating, but only when retreating from evil.”
“And returning to good.”
“Yes.”
“So, if evil has taken my children and refuses to recant, how can justice without revenge bring peace?”
Sensei sat upright, straight-backed, and respectful, staring coldly at his student for a long time. Finally, “I am sorry. I am not familiar with such a vehicle. Perhaps those who are younger and visit the villages are more observant than I. We shall ask them. Come.”
Sengha effortlessly rose to his bare feet, skipped over the chasm to the path, and led Sabriya up another flight of steps through the temple gate and into the monastery proper. He stopped at a double door, bowed, and spoke quietly to the doorman, who, after listening to the older monk, scuffled off. Sengha gestured for Sabriya to follow him, and they turned down a hallway and followed a stone path. Several moss-covered steps led to a quiet garden, where they waited patiently in silence.
After a few minutes, a half-dozen young men in traditional sabongs (wraparound orange-and-brown robes) with shaved heads and eyebrows entered the garden on bare feet and stood before Venerable Sengha and bowed respectfully to Sengha and Sabriya. Sengha explained Sabriya’s situation and request. The young monks chatted quietly among themselves, excitedly nodding, and then the oldest spoke with an enthusiasm that Sabriya considered unnatural for the otherwise patient and calm personalities.
“Master, a few of us are familiar with a vehicle such as you describe, but it is associated with men who are not peaceful, and are known to be associated with activities that bring unrest, theft, and danger to villagers.” He bowed his head for a moment before continuing, embarrassed to reveal what came next. “One morning, our brothers here were making alms rounds, and some of these men appeared, took our bowls, looking for money, but only finding rice and mangos, threw them to the street, and destroyed the gifts with their feet. To Sabriya, he said, “If you search for this van, you must take an army.”
“Where might this particular van be?” asked Sabriya. “It was used to kidnap two girls from a village.”
The young men chattered among themselves for a moment. Then came the answer Sabriya sought: “On the road, from here, just before Yung Fa Ho, there is a village of corrugated dwellings and one cinderblock building, surrounded by a field of old conveyances, motor vehicles, and farm implements. There is a water tank on a building north of the road, just a few kilometers from the city. You might find the van there among the others. But you will not be safe, they are very dangerous men. ”
Sabriya thanked the young monks and her sensei, then hurried to the staircase. She didn’t want to disrespect the young monks and Venerable Sengha, but the danger that lay ahead was not for her, but for the men who took Jai Kun and Gely Suy; she cared not in the least about their peace.
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