I got to know Herry and the two artists better throughout the week. Herry went the extra mile and introduced me to his Bengali friend from England, Munni. I guess he thought it would help to hang out with someone who shared the same background as me. Munni was an old man who had had three wives and three heart attacks. He was a funny guy and I enjoyed a night on the beach with them both, watching the beach boys play with fire. I told Munni that I had seen the beach boys smoking weed on the other island where we were paragliding. I was surprised that they had done it in the open as the law was extremely strict about it. They checked people's urine for traces of drugs and if they were found guilty, it was a death penalty. Munni told me the beach boys did what they wanted. They had a deal with the local cops; they would rat out a few of their new clients, usually tourists, in exchange for turning a blind eye on their daily deals. I couldn't believe it. Malaysia was so strict and fast becoming very established and professional and yet, this tiny island had bent cops. How far did this law bending go? I decided I would not tip them for their brilliant fire dancing that night. I couldn't help but feel a sense of resentment towards them; they had already ripped me off the day before with the paragliding and now I found out they set up innocent tourists to keep their dirty drug dealings going.
