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kerkah: He isn’t a tiger who wants to chew you up.’
    â€˜I’m not frightened,’ Maryam answered mildly. ‘I just didn’t want to speak to him first.’
    â€˜He’s a private man,’ his sister pronounced. ‘He’s a fair man, and he works hard, that’s all. Doesn’t fool around much. He’s always been that way, and it always made people think he was a little standoffish, you know. But he isn’t, just serious and hardworking.’ She leaned back against the wall of her house.
    â€˜People seem reluctant to talk about it.’
    â€˜And that’s as it should be!’ Noriah concluded. ‘People shouldn’t gossip; I think they respect Murad too much to talk about him. They look up to him,’ she continued, sipping her coffee, ‘they need someone to look up to. Villagers, I mean.’
    We’re all villagers here, all three of us , Maryam thought. Who was she talking about ?
    â€˜The fishermen on his crew, for instance. These people need a leader, and I think Murad is just such a one.’
    Maryam nodded silently, drawing on her cigarette. She let the quiet grow, waiting to see if Noriah would seek to fill it.
    â€˜If people fear him, it’s because they are guilty themselves, and they think he’ll discover their secret. You know about his fight with Jamillah’s husband,’ she guessed shrewdly. ‘Someone who’s innocent has nothing to fear from him.’
    â€˜Innocent of what?’
    â€˜Of anything! I’m saying he will see through you if you’re a liar. Or a thief. But if you’re a good person, he’s kind and generous. But fair,’ she amended, lest Maryam think he was simply open-handed. ‘He’s a fair man.’
    â€˜He was a ship’s captain, wasn’t he?’
    â€˜Yes. Have some cakes, please! You haven’t touched anything. More coffee?’
    They begged her not to trouble herself. They were fine – indeed, cool where they now sat – but Noriah followed the precepts of Malay courtesy, refilling their coffee cups and urging cookies and cigarettes upon them. They were profuse in their thanks.
    â€˜He was a ship’s captain, your brother?’ Maryam repeated after the flurry of politeness.
    â€˜He was. For a long time. He was thrifty and worked hard.’ Thriftiness was not a virtue appreciated by most Malays; they perceived a short and slippery slope from frugal to downright stingy. Maryam was intrigued at the many ways Noriah inserted her brother’s exemplary parsimony into the conversation.
    â€˜Did he start as a fisherman and work his way up?’ Maryam was prepared to be impressed.
    â€˜Not really,’ Noriah sniffed, ‘our father owned the boat, and Murad took it over. But there are plenty of men who would have lost it, you know. Spending money everywhere, mortgaging it,’ her expression told Maryam this would count as a mortal sin in Noriah’s world. ‘Even drinking and fooling around. But not my brother. He kept the money he was given and made it grow.’
    â€˜Very impressive,’ Maryam murmured.
    â€˜People here were suspicious of his accomplishments: but, as they say, untung ada, tuah tidak: there is success but not luck; it was all done with hard work. And therefore, they feared him.’
    She took a ladylike sip of coffee and the merest nibble of a rice cake. ‘He made plenty of money for Aziz, who didn’t lift a finger. Dapat pisang terkupas: he had his bananas already peeled. He didn’t do a thing.’ This was not a compliment.
    â€˜And Pak Cik Murad’s son now has the boat.’
    â€˜Why not? It’s his son. A fair man, like his father, like his uncle, like his grandfather before him. He looks towards the future.’ Maryam translated: doesn’t spend money.
    â€˜He wants to have a family based on hard work and planning. To raise his children without spoiling