Dayak Head-hunter

.... Eleven something it seemed from the chap on the parapet wall outside Enak, Enak—Tasty, Tasty—this morning. Two upraised forefingers chosen after a momentary shuffling of the hands, something like a goal-umpire’s signal. From four or five metres it was a wise decision. The more or less that followed left some doubt: might have been three or thirteen minutes either side. Roundabout all that was needed, Terima kasih. Thumbs up…. The word of Malay had been unexpected. (Similarly finding himself in the ascendant position with the wrist-watch.) Shortly afterward when the man comes over to try a witticism, with all the gaps in the mouth the English again problematic.... A single fang it looked like on the upper row, wide and to one side. We missed each other there. Evidently the man was left disconsolate at the failure himself. Rounding back one more time on his way out, in a slightly more intelligible articulation for farewell, chap lets it be known, keeping a firm, hard face all the while: — My name not Bye-bye.... A couple of repetitions were sufficient. Got it! You cheeky old devil, playing the head-hunter from Borneo…. Smiles for miles and miles across those broad features, man well into his seventies, the latter reaches almost certainly. How can one fail to love these Malayu?