When we finished our boat tour, we stood on the shore and looked across the road to where the Sultan Omar Ali Saifuddien Mosque stood. The golden-domed palace-like structure reminded me of Father’s position as a foreign and forgotten subject here, a minority who was openly unwelcome by law. In all his stories of Brunei, it was easy to forget that Father, raised as Buddhist, was living in a Muslim country. My family had chosen to focus on the fact that Brunei had previously been a British colony.

The air was oppressively dense and hot. My sweaty feet were sliding around in my plastic sandals. Mother and I had the same square feet without curves. Now I understood why she never wore socks.

Our weeklong visit was coming to an end, and Winston told Auntie Choo Neo that he wanted to take me to see Jerudong Park, the largest and most expensive amusement park in Southeast Asia. The Brunei government spent $1 billion to build it, and it was made famous when Michael Jackson performed a free concert there in the 1990s.

Winston was clever. We planned to meet up with my cousin on Mother’s side, and Winston did not think Auntie Choo Neo would approve. But he also knew that she would have no desire to go to Jerudong Park.

In our spurts of conversation when Auntie Choo Neo was out of earshot, I learned that Winston had attended school with my cousin Priscilla, Auntie Ah Lian’s daughter, who now lived in Singapore. Winston introduced us on WhatsApp, and we exchanged a few messages and spoke briefly. I told her I was sorry to hear Auntie Ah Lian had passed away and casually mentioned that it was too bad they she wasn’t here in Brunei for a visit, that it would be nice to connect since I had come all this way. Priscilla offered to fly in to meet with us the evening before John, Leo, and I were set to depart for Malaysia. Her generosity filled me with hope.

When we arrived at the amusement park, Winston looked at his watch and rushed us through the admission gate. He was messaging frantically on WhatsApp, and then abruptly stopped. He told me we were meeting Priscilla in an open green space called Colonnade Field. Just then, prayer time was called, and everything at the park came to a standstill. People not praying flooded the field and set up picnic blankets everywhere, making our task of intersecting with Priscilla that much harder. Winston finally found her looking into her phone, and she greeted him with a kiss on the cheek.

“This is Lily, John, and Leo,” Winston introduced us.

“Nice to meet you,” Priscilla said and embraced me. She had Mother’s dancing eyes.

“You know, Priscilla has a great singing voice, just like your mother,” Winston informed me. It was like he had read my mind; in front of me was someone I didn’t know but recognized.