Note to self ....Not yet!

The surrounding, the ambience at the Radisson Hotel where the award ceremony was held was a far cry from the sea front where sea gulls squawked as they circled gracefully over the famed white cliffs of Dover. Just over twenty hours before, we were running along boats berthing at the Dover Marina. The air had turned chilly and I only had a thin cotton blouse that I had won on both days there. I was cold and looked quite a sight. But for the gala dinner at Radisson Hotel, I had to make an effort. Even then, it was an effort keeping awake and trying not to fall flat on to the plate of grilled cutlets before me.

Had I fallen flat on to the plate, I would have been news. But I didn’t. But I was so tired that I didn’t mind resting my head on the table, surrounded by bankers and financiers talking about sukuk and shariat compliant thingies. My head was still full of seagulls, sea breeze, waves lapping the sea front, and most vivid of all, the sorry sight of Zahra, my namesake, limping out of her boat after a futile, albeit brave effort to swim the Channel.

She had braved twelve hours in the cold waters, fighting the currents; she had crossed the French territory but not before strong waves forced her towards Holland; a long way away from her destination.

I was in the kitchen of the caravan in Varne Ridge, preparing fried noodles, when Lis got the sms from the pilot boat that Zahra had been persuaded to give up. I wasn’t totally surprised that she had to be persuaded because Zahra is one plucky lass. She wanted to do the whole length, she wanted to feel the sandy beach of Calais on her feet and reach the destination reached by so many before her. But she didn’t and she couldn’t…not yet.

The caravan site at Varne Ridge

The noodles I prepared were for the group that accompanied her on the pilot boat. They must be famished after more than twelve hours on the boat. Then they were also her siblings and many more who had come to give support. I felt, I needed to do so – after all the caravan with the small kitchen had been ours for the day. We nipped into Asda to get the necessary things. Before that we had a tough time searching for internet cafes to send our stories. We found one in Folkstone but then again my ftp was interrupted a few times and I almost gave up.

Doa selamat for Zahra

The night before, we arrived Dover at almost midnight. Encik Arof, Zahra’s coach fetched us and took us to our caravan. Zahra had gone to sleep in her caravan. She needed the strength and the energy to see her through. I couldn’t sleep and had to catch up with some other work. At about 3am, there was a knock on my door – a party from London had arrived. The guests were from the Malaysian High Commission and the Malaysian Students Department. I played host and made them tea, while we waited for Zahra and her family to get ready. After subuh, we gathered outside the caravan and after a brief doa selamat, we left for Dover Marina.

Zahra was initially and understandably nervous. When we reached the Marina, her mother took her aside and mother and daughter had a few quiet moment together. That seemed to work and we saw a more confident and cheerful Zahra.

I hugged her a few times before she boarded the small boat. With her was her father, her coach, the pilot and observer from The Channel Swimmers and Piloting Federation, a cameraman and Qabbin from Kelab Ekspedisi Ekstrim 7 Benua. We gave her a quiet send off. It was too early in the morning to be shouting Malaysia Boleh.

The view at Samphire Hoe

We then rushed to Samphire Hoe “one of the few places that you can truly appreciate the drama of the White Cliffs”. That is also the place where we hoped to catch a glimpse of the boat and Zahra making her swim. Well, just about.

After more than half an hour, I realised I was looking at the wrong boat!

Zahra, we were told started the swim at 0607 on 1st July 2009 from Shakespeare Beach.

Our work had just begun. And without any sleep and without internet connection, it proved to be a long day.

A drive to Folkstone and I found myself at Starbuck café and after three top ups, managed to send my stories. By then I was beginning to feel that I am much too old to be doing this. I felt really exhausted and tired. I have done my time, I've had my fair share of innings. But for now, I know I had just enough energy to cook. I wanted to cook for Zahra for when she returned. Then perhaps I will hang up my laptop and let it go to sleep.

We were told that she stopped the swim at 6.20 in the evening. When I saw the boat turning to berth, I caught sight of Zahra underneath piles of blankets. She looked sunburnt and tired. My heart went out to her.

Zahra on arrival

She had to be helped out of the boat and arms linked, I walked her back to the car.

She repeated many times that she could have made it. Tears ran down her cheeks, and mine. More tears ran down my cheeks when I saw the video recordings of Taib Suhut, who captured the moment she was persuaded to give up. As Paul the pilot cajoled her, Zahra waved frantically, signalling that she wanted to go on.



Paul said, “ You have done very well. The channel will always be here for you.”

Zahra tried to climb up. Then her legs gave in and she fell back into the water. The waves were quite high. Once on board, she was inconsolable. She felt she had let her supporters and sponsors down.

Zahra had done 12 hours in the water; with strong currents and high waves. The day before, three swimmers had given up in lesser time. I know I will see Zahra again. I will wait for her return to conquer the Channel, Insyaallah.

I spoke to her the next morning. She was chirpy and back to her old self. She had also eaten the mee goreng, before going back to have a swim at the harbour. Zahra is not about to give up.

Posing while waiting...

Maybe this Zaharah too shouldnt give up... not yet.