I’m sitting outside a swamp-hot hostel in the underdeveloped island of Langkawi, Malaysia in the second half of March 2020 when I realize I have finally met my match.
It’s time to go home.
Within two months of traveling throughout South East Asia - beginning in Vietnam in January, Thailand in February, and Indonesia and Malaysia in March - the looming threat of coronavirus grew from being a domestic issue in China to becoming a full-fledged global pandemic.
While travelers and locals exercised general caution in these areas of Asia, business seemed to run as usual during the first couple months of the year. Most people in major cities wore masks already, and no one realized at the time how quickly the virus was spreading.
Yet as weeks passed the situation grew more dire, with shops shutting down and international borders closing. Given the circumstances, I decided it would be better to wait out the lockdown with friends rather than be alone in Indonesia, so I set out to meet them in Langkawi, a remote island in Malaysia. The plan was to stay away from the hotspots of the virus for a while as the Malaysian visa permitted us to stay 90 days, with most other countries only permitting 30 for tourists. I did not want to return to the United States which contained thousands of cases of the virus, just as my European friends did not want to head home either to the epicenter.
But alas, the monster known as corona engulfed the world in its tracks, and Malaysia was no different. Shortly after I arrived, the country submerged into lockdown and I found myself in an area where I didn’t feel comfortable waiting it out for three months, or even longer.
For one, the lack of resources on the island was concerning. There was limited access to fresh food, let alone medical assistance if need be. Additionally, you cannot drink water from the tap, so what would happen if less shipments resulted in shortages?
Secondly, transportation was being cut off with less airplanes and ferries operating, which would leave me trapped if the system halted completely.
Thirdly, the rules seemed to be changing every day, through hearsay. Military roamed the streets to enforce unclear curfews concerning our limitations, such as when or where we could get groceries or takeout food. Would hostels be deemed an essential business, or would we be put out on the streets at any moment?
After weeks of looking over my shoulder, trying to outrun the beast and seek shelter in a remote location… I looked up at the blazing equator sun on that pink-sky day and decided it was finally time to throw in the towel, and head back to the Western world while I still could.
Two days later, I sunk into my cramped seat aboard a jumbo jet headed to the United States and looked out the oval-shaped jet window, watching the lime-green ground drift smaller and smaller away from me, when I wrote this miniature fable.
Above: Moments of stillness in Langkawi, Malaysia after businesses closed.
World On Fire
A deep pang throbs from the pit of my chest down to the top of my abdomen as I run, pace after pace. I try to block out the pain mentally and physically, relaxing my shoulders down. I take a deep inhale to level out, but my heart clenches tight, leaving me short of breath. Prickly bumps lift the hairs on my forearms.
My mind checks in to analyze the discomfort. ‘What is this feeling?’ I ask myself.
But I already know.
The anxiety has finally set in. I’ve denied what the world has been facing.
Running the opposite direction from dangerous flames all morning and afternoon, the bruised bottoms of my feet cannot gallop any faster through the arid desert. I steal a quick glance over my right shoulder at the chaos, where our village used to be. Relatively far away from the flames, I still have a chance to escape. I will make it, I promise myself.
My heavy heart is racing, pulse thumping like crazy, but my gaze remains stubborn, determined.
Drenched in salty sweat, the wet beads run down my brows and drip onto my eyelids. My jelly knees are growing weak. I keep sprinting for miles and miles, away from the ever-exploding fire.
Suddenly I feel a gust of wind propel my numb body forward. I start to gain a lead and proudly decide, I really am going to make it out of here alive! But I still don’t know where I’m headed.
Everything was going well in our village before disaster struck.
Looking ahead down the never-ending dry dirt road, I notice a couple other men and women running in front of me at a steady pace. No children. However, almost everyone else is trailing is behind me, either losing speed or lagging several yards behind. They begin to fall off one by one, disappearing into the dust until I can no longer hear their gasps and footprints.
They will be dead soon.
I start to speed like hell, as the fiery explosions behind me are getting closer.
“You’ll never make it running like that!” a family of stragglers shouts at me from the side of the road, huddled behind cluttered debris. “Hunker down with us here, now!”
I know they are trying their best during this wild predicament, but I won’t hide like the others, I say to myself. We all have to get out of here. The best thing we can do is keep going.
“I’m fine!” I shout back, but a sharp terror inside me starts to brew.
I’m panting, dripping sweat. There is absolutely no denying it now: the entire hot earth is on fire.
Golden rock mountains in the distance turn purple as nightfall sets in. Loud howls and yells bellow through the cracks of the desert valley, unclear whether they are from animal or man. Charcoal black smoke thickens the air, tinged with the smell of burnt hair and flesh.
I’ve been fleeing since I got the call at sunrise. Initially we heard of the warning from across the desert villages many moons away, yet didn’t think anything of it. My tribe and I were not affected by the fires just a few days prior, given the distance, but the ashes began to spread in the wind. Soon the sun warmed the dry brush under the hot clouds, and the land began to catch a flame. In just days, the fire grew so large that you couldn’t see the stars anymore.
Red blood clouds loom overhead. I’m burning up in the dark heat, and I thirst for water. My throat is full of sore, dry lumps yet I have no energy to cough anymore. I feel each leap of my legs slowing down, each stride requiring more effort, each wheezy breath becoming more difficult. My mental state stands tough, but in times like these, it begins to wane with the crescent moon.
There are no more roads to take. No more villages to stop in that are safe. Other tribes have shut their doors, and I couldn’t make it in time as they barred the fences. Too many people are needing help, with almost every area now overtaken by the Act of God. And soon, each of these tribes may have to seek refuge themselves.
I abruptly gasp and fall to my knees, crushing the gravel, but nothing even hurts anymore. My body is numb. I am beyond exhausted.
I look up rapidly, breathing hard, and I realize I am alone in the eerie dark.
Surrender.
A deafening blow booms into my back and I feel a torch for a millisecond. The pain frees as my body plummets into the ground and thick smoke fills the desert canyon. In the same fraction of a moment, I take my last breath. Everything goes black.
* * *
Photo by Ondřej Konopásek
