Malika Bandung woke up and stretched luxuriously as she sat on the bed. Lying next to her, Calvin Geobisa slumbered. Malika looked at Calvin, who slept peacefully, and she allowed herself a smile. Calvin looked none the worse for wear, especially given how, mere hours before, he'd sexually exhausted the hell out of Malika. Never in her fifty seven years had Malika felt so alive...
Malika went out on the balcony, not caring that she was nude, and looked at the skyline of Singapore, where the pink rays of dawn were chasing away the last remnants of the night. Malika was born in the City of Balikpapan, Indonesia, to an Indonesian Muslim father, Malik Bandung, and a white British mother, Eileen Pennington. Not long after, the family moved to Singapore, where Malika's father ran a textiles company, Bandung Enterprises.
Malika barely remembered her native Indonesia and felt quite at home in Singapore, one of the most cosmopolitan areas in all of Asia. Fifteen percent of the population of Singapore came from Indonesia. There were lots of European expatriates living there as well, people from the United Kingdom, France, Germany and Italy. Malika's late mother Eileen Pennington was such an expat, and she taught her only daughter how to speak English, French and Dutch, on top of the Malay and Indonesian which she already knew.
Malika had often felt like a stranger in a strange land when she stayed in London, UK, with her parents. Folks in metropolitan London gawked at Malik Bandung and Eileen Pennington-Bandung and their daughter Malika because there was an unwritten rule against British women marrying men from the teeming brown masses. In Singapore, where so many people were a mixture of this and that, Malika was simply one of the locals.
Interestingly, the Republic of Singapore had become the destination for foreign students wishing to study in Southeast Asia. Japan and China were largely homogenous and not exactly open to integration from foreigners, especially those hailing from other continents. Singapore attracted foreigners from all over the world, who found it a diverse, flexible environment. Malika never imagined that some of those foreigners would come along and change her life, not once but twice.
"Singapore, you will always be home," Malika said, and she closed her eyes, inhaling the morning breeze that wafted up to her seventeenth-floor condo, located in the affluent Bukit Timah neighborhood of Singapore. When wealthy people from places like Europe, North America, South Africa or Japan came to Singapore, they often stayed in Katong Peranakan Homes or Holland Road Gardens. This is where the cream of the crop lived...
Malika thought of her late husband Theodore Mowry, formerly of London, UK. The two of them met at Brunel University, where Malika earned her bachelor's degree in English Literature. After graduation, Malika lived in London for a while, long enough to marry Theodore and earn her MBA from Kingston University, where he happened to lecture. Malika and Theodore split their time between the UK and Singapore, and tried to start a family, but it was not meant to be...
"Sweet Theo," Malika whispered, remembering the six-foot-tall, red-haired and bespectacled, thin and wiry Englishman who stole her heart. They had twenty glorious years together, and then prostate cancer took him away. Malika mourned the loss of her beloved Theo, and became a shut-in. Malika thought she would never love again, until, two years after her husband's death, she met Calvin Geobisa.
"Selamat pagi, adakah bilik itu masih boleh didapati, good morning, ma'am, is the room still available?" said the tall, well-dressed young African standing at the door. Malika blinked in surprise, for Calvin Geobisa was not what she was expecting. When Malika typically thought of a Calvin, she thought of a white man, perhaps an American, a Brit or an Australian student spending a semester abroad at one of Singapore's many schools. Calvin Geobisa was tall and black, with a disarming smile and spoke disturbingly good Malay...
"Selamat pagi lelaki muda, masuk ke dalam, good morning young man, come inside," Malika replied, and Calvin smiled and nodded. She showed him inside her four-bedroom, three-closet, two-bathroom, one-living room, two-kitchen condo. This was the place that Malika bought with her late husband Theo, and it had been their home for many, many years. The thought of sharing space with anyone didn't sit well with Malika, but her finances had taken a dive after Theo's death...
"The place looks great, ma'am," Calvin told Malika, as they sat in the living room, to talk business and get to know each other a bit. Malika was puzzled by this tall, handsome and well-dressed young black man who was not mixed-race and yet spoke Malay with an almost native proficiency. When Calvin spoke English, he had a slight accent, but one which she could simply not place. Malika had met African American tourists in Singapore before, and Calvin definitely didn't sound like them. Where was he from?
"This dame is interesting," Calvin thought as he quietly seized up Malika. In Singapore, most of the women that Calvin had seen were short, trim, with brown or bronze skin, sharp features and dark hair. Malika Bandung might have an ethnic name but Calvin could tell that she was mixed with something, instead of being pure Asian, unlike most women in Singapore. Malika was also taller than most of these ladies, around five-foot-ten, and a bit more pale than them as well. Mixed-race mama, Calvin thought, smiling.
"Your Malay is excellent, Calvin, where are you from?" Malika asked, curious in spite of herself. Calvin smiled at her, and there was a smoldering intensity in his golden brown eyes, which contrasted sharply against his mahogany-hued skin. The young black man reminded Malika of one of her favorite actors, Hollywood legend Djimon Hounsou. This one is someone I'm going to have to watch out for, Malika remembered thinking at the time.
"I was born and raised in Cape Town, South Africa, and I went to a school full of Malays, that's how I learned the language," Calvin said with a confident smile. Malika looked at Calvin, who seemed a bit too comfortable in her living room, especially given they hadn't signed a lease or agreed on house rules yet. The young man's confidence was quite infectious and a bit unsettling, to tell the truth. Was Calvin some sort of prince in South Africa?
