In the late 1970s a lone fishing boat rocked gently on the waves of the Java Sea just off the coast of Kalimantan, Indonesia. They silently went about their work, hauling in nets full of fish, clams and seaweed. A single deckhand leaned over the boat to pull a net over the side when his fingers curled around an unexpected shape. It was hard, too large to be a shell and too uniform to be a rock. It felt man made. He pulled it onto the deck and crouched down to untangle it from the net and flopping fish. “Rangga, what did you land?” yelled the Captain. The fisherman tugged the large object loose and as the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon, he began to examine it closely. Moments later he shrugged and replied, “Just an old pot.”
The boat returned to its dock and the men began to unload their catch. When the boat was empty and secure, Rangga picked up the pot and headed into the bustling harbour town. No one on the boat really cared if he kept it or not, but he found the vessel pleasing. It was oval in shape, a smooth rimmed mouth, and was dark brown in colour with a streak of grey accenting its middle. He was going to give it to his wife as a gift.
On his way home, Rangga stopped at a open air food stall to grab his favourite snack, sticky sambal rice balls. Eating his food on a rough-hewn table, he noticed two European men frequently glancing his way. After a while, the two approached and asked about the pot. Much to Rangga’s surprise they offered to buy it on the spot. Utterly perplexed, he asked what was so important about the old weathered pot. “Although it’s just an old Chinese vase,” said one of the men, “it’s intact.” How old?” asked Rangaa. “Several hundred years. It was likely part of the cargo on a trading ship that sank off the coast.”
Rangga decided to take the money and, in turn, he bought his wife a small amulet featuring her favourite god. When he gave it to her, they both agreed that the god had smiled upon them that day.
The boat returned to its dock and the men began to unload their catch. When the boat was empty and secure, Rangga picked up the pot and headed into the bustling harbour town. No one on the boat really cared if he kept it or not, but he found the vessel pleasing. It was oval in shape, a smooth rimmed mouth, and was dark brown in colour with a streak of grey accenting its middle. He was going to give it to his wife as a gift.
On his way home, Rangga stopped at a open air food stall to grab his favourite snack, sticky sambal rice balls. Eating his food on a rough-hewn table, he noticed two European men frequently glancing his way. After a while, the two approached and asked about the pot. Much to Rangga’s surprise they offered to buy it on the spot. Utterly perplexed, he asked what was so important about the old weathered pot. “Although it’s just an old Chinese vase,” said one of the men, “it’s intact.” How old?” asked Rangaa. “Several hundred years. It was likely part of the cargo on a trading ship that sank off the coast.”
Rangga decided to take the money and, in turn, he bought his wife a small amulet featuring her favourite god. When he gave it to her, they both agreed that the god had smiled upon them that day.
