One Night In Bahrain IV

At the seaside which looked like the Klebang beach in Melaka, we walked past some Balrainis who were having a drink on the terrace of a restaurant. I thought of the previous night chat I had had with my ex-school friends in Subang before my flight.

In front of us was the Arabian sea and a bridge leading to the northern part of Bahrain.

"Have you gone back to your country since you came here?"

"No, but I plan to go back and stay 45 days with my family. I haven't received the official approval from my boss. If I don't get it 72 hours before the departure, I'll have to cancel my flight and lose ten percent of the ticket price."

"I'm going to France. Otherwise I can pay you a visit there."

"I wish you could. Then I'd bring you to see my mum."

"God has arranged us to meet here. We'll meet again in future. You're also welcome to Malaysia."

"Maybe one day. God knows."

"You must feel lonely sometimes. The culture here is so different from yours."

"Ya, when I don't work, I just stay in my flat, either sleeping, watching DVD or chatting online."

"You can look around in church to find some activity partners..."

"Let's find a place to sit down and have our snack."

We walked towards a park and sat on a bench. It was a windy night. I could see sand and rubbish being blown into the air. I raised my head and stared at the sky where only one star was accompanying the full moon.

"Is your sister waiting for you at home?", while having my bottle of soya milk and the syawarma Alex had broken into two, I asked. The Bahrainis version of kebab was combined of pita bread, hummus, tomato and cucumber, and sliced chicken. I found it very tasty although I was not hungry at all.

"No, she's staying with her husband and she must be already sleeping. But she wakes up very early to pray. Although she's very devoted to her new religion, she doesn't try to convert me..."

I praised Lord for that. Anyway, we know very well He is the truth.

"It's time to go back to Baisan." Alex stood up first. I looked at my watch. It was about 3.20am.

On our way back, he suddenly made a request,"May I hold your hand?" and he continued,"in remembrance..."

I chuckled, "Ha, Alex. You remind me of Jesus' last supper. Just now we broke the syawarma and drank soya. It's like the communion."

I gave him my hand, thinking of the same gesture of fellowship I often made at church service with other brothers and sisters in Christ.

"How to say nice to meet you in your language?" I asked.

He searched the sentence for two minutes, finally said,"We don't really say that. When I meet new Philippino friends, I just say 'Nice to meet you'"

"How about 'How are you'?"

"Kumusta."

"Kumusta? I also teach you the Chinese version. 'Nihao ma'"

"Nihao ma?"

"To answer 'I'm fine', you say 'Wo henhao."

"In Philippino, we say 'mabuti'."

"When we chat online later, we can teach each other our mother tongue. That will be funny... Alex, you look sad."

"Yes, I am sad. Because you're leaving."

"Don't worry. God will gather us again some day, somewhere."