Princess Play by Barbara Ismail

‘Yes, I am, though this’ – he gestured at the hubbub – ‘is a bit crazy.’
    She nodded and agreed. ‘Yes, but it’s how we make a living, isn’t it?’
    He kept smiling. She excused herself and ducked away, not wanting to prolong her first meeting with him. Though she hadn’t been told, she knew the introduction was not random. She was of an age where everyone was trying to find her a husband, and any man to whom she was properly introduced was a prospect.
    *  *  *
    Osman met his Thai counterpart at the border town of Sungei Golok, across the river from Kelantan. He’d brought Zainab with him, in case they actually found Zaiton; as her older sister, no doubt she had some influence over the girl and would help bring her back. Rahim he would handle himself.
    The Thai policeman, whose name he stumbled over every time he tried to say it, seemed bored and removed from the project. His Malay was non-existent and his English spotty, so communication between the two was difficult. Luckily, however, Rahim’s family had finally disgorged information on their relatives here, and he had the name of the kampong . He also had Zainab to speak Kelantanese if necessary – the dialect in this very Malay part of Thailand was even thicker, if that was possible, than in Kelantan.
    They were driven through Sungei Golok, the neighbourhood Sodom, where all manner of sin existed, many of which did not – or were not supposed to – exist in Kelantan.
    During the day, it looked like any other market town, with stalls sprawling throughout, packed with Thai goods ranging from durian (the ‘durian Bangkok’ widely believed to be the best variety ever) to kitchenware. In the evening, it would shimmer with lights: neon for the bars, strings of Christmas lights for the brothels, bare light bulbs and paraffin lanterns illuminating the night market.
    The kampong in question was more utilitarian and a bit more run down than those in Kelantan, with houses closer together and less effort spent on flowers and keeping the yards clean.
    Osman showed a picture of Rahim to everyone they met, asking if they knew where he was. Most of the villagers were wary of the police, and even warier of turning someone in to them, and it appeared that no one had seen him, or knew of him, or anyone related to him.
    This area, Osman realized belatedly, was considered a hotbed of separatist activity, its inhabitants anxious to leave Thailand and join, or rejoin, their fellow Malays in Malaysia. They’d probably seen a good deal of the Thai police in recent years, and had learned to stay as far away as possible.
    Zainab, however, had broken away from officialdom and had gone on her own to ask, telling everyone that she was looking for her younger sister who had run away from home with Rahim and how much she wanted her back. This, at last, was something everyone could understand, and Zainab was taken to the home where both Zaiton and Rahim were staying.
    Zaiton greeted her with open-mouthed shock. ‘How did you find me?’
    â€˜I had to come all the way here to look for you! What do you think you’re doing?’
    â€˜I’m here with Rahim!’ she answered defiantly.
    Rahim sought to defuse the situation. ‘It isn’t what you think, Kakak ,’ he told her.
    â€˜Really? What do I think?’
    â€˜That I meant to, you know …’ he blushed and looked uncomfortable. ‘Because I didn’t.’
    â€˜We’re married!’ Zaiton announced proudly.
    â€˜What?’ Zainab screeched.
    Rahim’s relatives gathered around her to calm things down, several explaining at once that Rahim’s intentions were entirely honourable, and marriage was a respectable state, and they had witnessed it, and it was all legal. They had even given a small kenduri , a wedding feast to celebrate the occasion, so that Zainab would see this was no backstreet