“...THE STONE ROAD THAT LEADS TO JIANGONG ISLAND…”
Following a bowl of Guangdong Congee (廣東粥), we unexpectedly found ourselves walking across the stone road that leads to JianGong Island (建功嶼). The rectangular bricks of cut stone were covered with eroded oyster shells while, because it was low tide, the exposed muddy sea floor was left to bake in the sun on either side of the road. Small holes dotted the ground, out of which crabs would run to and from, occasionally quarreling with each other. You could occasionally see mud-skippers shooting across the slippery terrain and into the enduring puddles. I ventured off of the stones and into the mud more than a couple of times in order to get a closer look at the sea life that remained and when I eventually my bare feet were caked with mud up to my ankles. There was a foot washing station on the island, right before you entered the fort, but the water almost burned my feet as it came out of the taps.
“...THE ISLAND FELT ISOLATED AND LONELY…”
The island’s fort contained mostly empty rooms, some had mattress-less bunk beds, others clearly used to hold large guns while there will still more with unknown purposes. I looked out of the little windows that viewed all sides of the island’s rocky coastline, just beyond the fort’s walls, but it was desolated except for the stones, oyster beds and the sea life that stayed for low tide. Following the thrill of investigation, the island felt isolated and lonely.
“...HE CHATTED AWAY TO US BUT WE DID NOT UNDERSTAND…”
Walking back towards the stone road, a man who I hadn’t seen on the island before waved at us to hurry up. The tide was coming in and beginning to wash over the path. We hastened but this did not satiate him, so he became more enthusiastic. We conceded, beginning to jog across the island’s sandy beach until we were back on the large stones of the road. The man, who appeared as if from nowhere, was very recognizable wearing a light blue shirt obscured by a tan vest, a conical hat, thin plaid shorts (possibly boxer shorts), green rubber boots, dark arm sleeves and he carried a galvanized steel bucket filled with tiny snails. We passed by him, trying not to become stranded by the rising waters, but then waited for him near the road’s halfway point. He caught up and began talking to us, which is when it became apparent that he couldn’t speak. He made sounds and had a lot to say, motioning with his hands in trying to make us understand however we we couldn’t quite grasp. Did he ask where I was from? Well I told him anyway. Does he dislike the bridge construction between Kinmen and Xiamen? Perhaps. Did he swim to the island? Probably not but that is what I understood.
We walked with him to the foot washing station on the Kinmen side of the stone road . He filled up his boots with water from the tap and then, one at a time, extended his legs horizontally to let the water drain out. Pointing to the green water pooling below because the drain was clogged while also plugging his nose with his other hand, he was clear what he meant: “don’t step in this water, it smells”. With that information, we both washed our feet again and avoided stepping in the green water that partially filled the foot washing station. The three of us slowly walked back up the hill towards the Yan Ping Jun Wang Temple and he chatted away to us but we didn’t understand much. He took us into the temple and prayed to the prominent statue inside. We looked around inside and then outside on the veranda while he smoked a cigarette. Then, he seemed to give us directions: down the hill, up the hill and then follow the turn to the left. We walked with him to his bike, unsure of what we were supposed to do next, but he seemed to motion to us to go get the scooter and then meet him.
“...PERHAPS HE WAS A GHOST…”
When we got back to where the man had been previously, he was nowhere to be found and no bike to be seen riding on the main road. We drove in all directions: on the main street and the country roads but the man with the rubber boots, plaid shorts and conical hat was gone. He was probably just a man who is quick on a bike but perhaps he was a ghost that haunts the land between JianGongYu (建功嶼) and Yan Ping Jun Wang Temple (延平郡王祠), but we will never know for certain as we are unlikely to find him again.
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