Now, the Bandanese had known for quite some time that a lot of their produce ended up on the other side of the world with people with unintelligible names in strange countries and were therefore delighted when they finally got a chance to meet some of them in 1512. Those guys, Portuguese as it turned out, filled up their ships with spices and then left Banda mostly to themselves for the rest of the century, concentrating mainly on the northern clove islands of Maluku. Not that the Bandanese were really heartbroken over that fact, since those newcomers always insisted on wearing heavy long clothes at all times, while having an aversion to regular baths at the same time.
For a very long time the bandanese people had it extremely good. There was no raja or king or whatever to tell them what to do. Only Orang Kaya, village elders, but they were…, well, old! So Life was great! They were in the unique position, that their little group of islands was the only place in the world, where nutmeg and mace grew naturally. They traded with Arabs, Chinese and Malay, made a good living off it and, because growing nutmeg does not actually involve much physical work, spend their time fishing or hanging out in the shade on the beach with friends.
