Our vehicle is stopped. We have just heard the praises of God sung on the roof of East Timor while we looked down on the tops of clouds. Now our return journey is stymied by a van with a flat tire blocking a very narrow road. Flexibility. But more of that later.
Last night after posting day one at the Xanana Gusmao Reading Room, we set out to walk 300 metres or so to our chosen restaurant for dinner. We were joined for the walk by Samuel Marcel, who translated Timotio Nia istorio into Tetun, the native language of Timor Leste.
Having traveled on for while, typing resumes. We have stopped for coffee. Some three kilometers later we arrived at the Beach Hut Restaurant. Apparently something was lost in translation. Upon arrival we met David a member of the Australian defense force contingent stationed in Timor Leste. He is accompanied by Joseph and Renton.
We enjoy a good time and good food, returning to the Turismo for a good night’s sleep. Robert Benn has a single room, while Rob Duncanson and Gary Ware are sharing.
This morning, when RB asked RD how he slept, RD replied that he had heard the sound of pigs being chased by buffalo through the night. GW is certain that RD must have dreamed this as he heard no such sounds when he was awake. GW notes that his wife has similar dreams.
Over breakfast we meet Josh, a young native of Texas, a graduate of Princeton in the area of Public Policy. As part of a scheme sponsored by Princeton, graduates are given the opportunity to serve abroad for a year before returning to pursue their career paths. Josh is carrying a worn paperback copy of The Three Musketeers, taking RB back to his first ever visit to the cinema. Josh wonders if the movie was accompanied by theatre organ music. RB decides to be his friend anyway.
It seems that most travelers in Timor are not so much tourists as those seeking to lend a hand. The previous evening we encountered a bright and cheery woman from Mansfield in Victoria, part of a friendship group touring in support of a young woman carrying out aid work. The fact so many people are in the country to promote aid and development means that a lot of the people you encounter are open and caring and very encouraging when they discover that your desired outcomes mirror their own.
The travel arrangements vary slightly today, with RB joining RD with Daniel in the Pajero, while GW remained with Arlindo in the Hilux. For reasons of accountability it should be noted that this meant GW found himself in the front seat. We departed for the Liquiça (pronounced lick-key-sa) district about 9.15.
The drive is largely along the coast, the road carved along the path where the mountains meet the sea. These mountains are more rocky than those we saw yesterday and the foliage has a more tenuous hold on the slopes, amid exposed rocks. Arlindo and GW are able to talk about his desire for more pastors to be trained, with the challenge of locating support for suitable candidates to be able to go to West Timor or other parts of Indonesia. We also talk of our families, and the special blessing it will be for Arlindo to sit with his first sheep, his wife while RB preaches tomorrow.
There seem to be many goats and pigs running wild, but Arlindo gives assurance that each and every one is actually owned by someone. We travel through Liquiça town, onward toward Mobara. As we continue the nature of the homes we pass changes. Whereas most of the dwellings we saw yesterday were cement rendered and steel roofed, we are now passing bamboo walls and palm branch thatching. No satellite dishes. There is no coffee here to raise the local economy. These are subsistence farmers, trying to make do in a period of reduced demand for their commodities.
We arrive at the church in Mobara. In total we are told that 32 families and 200 people in total are part of the Congrgation. There is a congregational welcome arranged. RB is baptized with an effusion of flower petals and then bestowed with a hand-made stole. RD and GW receive presentations of similar stoles, without the flower petals. Inside we talk and pray. The people express their gratitude for our coming and we express our thanks for their welcome. RB prays for the folk after RD has presented copies of Timitio to the Pastor. The people share some of their needs with us. Joining the EPCTL has left them bereft of support. Their place of worship is a concrete slab, with a timber frame walled by bamboo with a corrugated iron roof. The odd breeze teases coolness and relief. In full summer it would be trying. A younger man speaks of their love of music and how even the gift of a guitar would be a blessing to their praises. Cipriano, the pastor, is a younger man and his wife, a lady of Indonesian birth is charming.
We have a morning tea of fried banana, boiled local corn and roasted groundnuts, washed down with sweet black coffee and then we prepare to depart. As we leave, there is a short detour to take: we have to pray for the sick. We go to a thatched roof with two and half walls, an angry chicken resents our intrusion loudly from the rafters, the cobwebs under the thatching are heavy with soot from cooking fires. In the corner is a rude cot, under which lies a dog. On the cot rests an elderly lady, laid low by an ailment of some sort. RB offers gracious words of encouragement and a prayer. We depart.
(Continued Day 2, Part 2)
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