The Amulet

 

Ten wives Anwar’s father had had. A couple of days ago the fact had been revealed. This afternoon was added that in his own case, despite numerous opportunities, the son, Anwar, after his marriage had never taken a lover; never cheated on his wife. Over the ten or eleven  year acquaintance quite the contrary impression had been conveyed. However, that was mistaken; never once a lover taken. Anwar’s sincerity could not be questioned. There had never been thought of a second wife either. Clearly Anwar had never countenanced the thought; the hurt of early youth when he and his mother had been abandoned remained in mature years. In the photo Anwar showed the mother was every bit as beautiful as the son suggested. A Minangkabau. Number three wife to the short, unprepossessing and quite poor Boyanese father. Yet the man managed exceptionally well with the ladies, including one very pretty eighteen year old who may have been number 5 or 6. By that time Anwar was teaching and this stepmother was his junior. Anwar met five or six of the wives. With the last, No. 10, some closeness developed, which extended to a step-brother. With Anwar’s own mother, the beautiful Minangkabau, there was a younger brother too. Anwar knew nothing of any further siblings with the remainder. It was unclear if some of the wives were simultaneous, or all divorced. The hint in the father’s uncanny history was the small island from which he hailed, a couple hundred kilometres north of Surabaya, Java. The Boyanese were well represented in Singapore. And among the Malays, respected and rather feared for their black magic. Anwar’s father was a good example. Many came to him for potions and amulets: those seeking a partner, the ill and afflicted, the ambitious. In upper primary, not long after the father left No. 3 wife, Anwar’s mother, the man presented his son with an amulet that would protect him for the remainder of his life, and also win him the chief beauty of Jurong district here, of the period. A cable car disaster that resulted in a number of deaths, a six car pile-up in  Malaysia, a scorpion planted in the newlywed’s kitchen, all left Anwar unscathed. Every day of his life Anwar kept on his person the little bundle given him by his father, either in his wallet, or else a little Strepsils tin that over time had rusted. Over sixty-five years the charm was kept. A pair of twigs no more than an inch & one half long, separated from a third by a little, flat stone that fitted neatly between, wrapped in aluminium foil. The father had securely bound the pieces with bright yellow thread, which over the years Anwar had further secured with the same colour. In teen years there had been resentment and anger at the father, before this was later overcome. There had been concern too over the amulet itself. Anwar had approached a number of ustad for opinion. As long as there was nothing Satanic, nothing of devil worship, it was all OK; Allah remained primary. In Anwar’s mind the amulet was an aid to courage. Nothing wrong or contradictory. Anwar preferred the amulet not be photographed. Better not, he decided, after a couple moments’ reflection.