Thankfully my conjunctivitis convalescence was conveniently curtailed. I’m not sure if it was the super-strength, single-dose, over-the-counter antibiotics, or if it was the eye drops, or if it was just that my bout was never going to be much to write home about anyway. Whatever the reason, a gentle homey day on Friday was all the time required to get me feeling fine, and – more importantly – looking safe for social interaction.
So on Saturday I joined the dozen or so ex-pats as we trundled along in the back of an open truck to a country region called Talifurleu, an hour or so up the mountains south of Dili. The ride itself was every bit part of the experience. The roads went from rough to almost “adventurous”, traversing truly beautiful countryside. I couldn’t help wondering how I’ll go navigating this kind of trail, when I’m finally on my own wheels.
The main enterprise in the Talifurleu area has traditionally been rice and fish. A recent World Vision project has encouraged the locals to dream dreams, with the first prioritised plan from that exercise to layer tourism over the top of these traditional rice and fishing endeavours. According to our guide, the local elders are very keen to maintain their traditional ways, but need additional income to ensure economic sustainability. In contrast to the elders, we were told that the young people in the area are “lazy” and “just want to play on their phones”. Does that sound like any young people you know?!
June last year saw the initial public launch of the tourism initiative, with Tracey (my current hotelier) gathering up a small crew for a rice harvesting trip. Our Saturday rice planting trip was Talifurleu‘s second foray into “eco-tourism”. Since June, with World Vision’s help they’ve built an open-air structure described as a “cafe”, which has truly stunning views across the rice and fishing precinct. I could have simply sat and enjoyed that view all day. So peaceful. Other than that cafe structure, I believe the area is as it has been since time in immemorial.
Speeches, ceremony and nibbles for a warm welcome were followed by a short hike up a nearby hilltop. The community is exploring increased productivity from terraced farming, and experimenting with tree planting and other techniques to stabilise the hillside for greater water retention and crop yield. We each planted a tree up the slope, participating in that exploratory endeavour.
Lunch back at the cafe was prepared from all-local ingredients. An array of veggies complemented the chicken’s feet and fish heads. I should confess to some small-minded gastronomic prejudice at this point, which left me enjoying a vegetarian lunch. I often say “I don’t mind vegetarian food as long as it has meat with it”, but it turns out even I have limits. I was grateful for the hospitality and in no position to complain that they’d not catered to my particular culinary squeams.
And then on… to the main game… planting rice.
The entire valley had already been planted last month, with only one small paddy at the end of the farm left for the “malae” (foreigner) tourists to plant. This field will have low yield, since the late planting will miss the best of the rain, but at least they’ll be compensated by the (rather small) tourism revenue.
I’m not a big fan of sticky or muddy, and rice planting may just register on that scale. So I “hid” behind the DJI Mini 3 drone controls to get some aerial footage of the event. Everyone, and especially the farmers, were a bit excited about the prospect of that footage. I’m such a newbie amateur with very badly shot footage resulting, but I guess it will be better than nothing! In the end I also jumped in the rice paddy and had a go planting despite myself, realising I couldn’t really come all this way out to rice planting only to sit like a knot on a log watching everyone else. It was, unsurprisingly, quite as sticky and muddy as you’d expect. Other than that, it was a pleasant enough activity. The locals certainly thought it was hilarious that they were the ones standing and taking photos of the malae doing the manual work. I can imagine there’d be quite a therapeutic rhythm to doing a whole day of rice planting. I’m not sure how I’d feel about a week or a month. I guess it would wash away (ironically) other cares and concerns. A bit like thousands of kilometres of motorbike road trip.
I’m not really a city boy, and do very much like getting out into the country. Just being in open space and beautiful greenery is so good for the soul. Actually I’d be fine with the sticky mud of it too if the countryside was my habitat – without needing to manage the professional (or at least “tidy”) appearance demanded by city life. The day in Talifurleu has been a highlight of my road trip so far. Thank you to all who worked so hard to make our day delightful.
The time eventually came to be bundled back into the trucks, and head back to Dili. The same rough ride in the back of the truck hit a snag with the road on which we came in shut off for emergency maintenance as we came out. That and a stop or two along the way and we were pushing behind schedule by the time we got back to Dili proper.
With Tracey and one of the Fulbrights (see earlier diary entry) going to an Indian dance concert that night, time was of the essence. So a few of us heading in that direction grabbed a cab when the bus stopped for petrol. It was therefore ironic that the cab only just managed to putter along, at best up to 5km/h. I’m not sure if the clutch was gone, if the spark plugs were gooped up, if there were parts of the engine and undercarriage that had simply dropped off, or if it was all of the above. Anyway, crossing one of the busiest Dili streets the clutch slipped, engine stalled, and driver repeatedly failed in attempts to restart the flailing vehicle. In the end we three passengers just jumped out to push start, from the middle of that busy main thoroughfare. All we succeeded in doing was to push to the roadside. Given the hurry, we abandoned ship and caught another cab. In a contrast that could not have been more stark, the next driver was clearly quite high, laughing uncontrollably at nothing and driving so fast and furious we thought we’d crash a few scooters along the way. We didn’t. But we did in fact pass an accident not of our causing, and rode madly through the middle of it while a push bike and rider were still being scraped off the road. The pulse was ever so slightly quickened, in sympathy with the driving pace.
By then I’d had my introvert’s fill of people for the day, so I took the opportunity for a quiet evening and left Bollywood to others.
The next morning began with the regular dosa breakkie at Harri’s Indian restaurant, followed by a microlet bus to English-speaking church at the other end of town. I was pleasantly surprised to find that Preston, one of the Fulbright scholars, had joined us. It is a little surreal to be in a place like Dili and still “just run into” people I know. Even if I’ve only known them for days or weeks.
This Sunday I had to duck off straight after church as the choir performance had been scheduled to allow the couple of mutual members to manage both church and choir. So long as we hurried. The last time I sang properly in a choir was in 1992, and three decades have rather diminished any choristing capability I might (or might not) once have had. It took a deep breath and deliberate focus to refuse embarrassment any quarter. Just once or twice I managed to find a starting note and then hold my part for a bar or two. Hopefully I sang quietly enough not to be noticed for the remainder. I’m yet to discover if there’s video evidence available, and really not sure if I want to know.
A bit of the card game Skip Bo at Dianne’s rounded out the afternoon, until I had the privilege of joining an inter-church Bible study from my then-newest friends Raj and Lois. I’d met Raj and Lois on the back of the truck to the rice farm on Saturday. We’d quickly established that we had a shared faith after Raj picked up on hints I’d deliberately left in that direction because of the sense of grace about the couple. There turns out to be quite a generous scattering of Christians among the Dili malae.
All in all it really was a lovely weekend.
In a bit of contrast, five hours of Monday was spent trying to retrieve an email from services Australia. Such a weird, frustrating system that is. The email is probably pointless and valueless, but just possibly could be one of those things that will cause much trouble if it isn’t read and actioned. I’m yet to conquer their horrid systems to find out which it is.
The Sunday night Bible study was at the home of an Queensland couple Rob and Katrina, who are every bit as much an institution here in Dili as Tracey is, and have even been here the same 21 years. Rob is an agriculturist with a direct impact on the productivity of most of the farms across Timor. Katrina is a linguist, heading up the Language School at one of the local Universities. Both are currently contributing to Bible translation into the 33 languages across Timor.
Rob invited me to lunch today. It was great to just connect, and share life stories. But it turns out he’s had an ulterior motive, too. Of the most generous kind. Knowing that I’m currently on a motorcycle road trip with no motorcycle, Rob has lent me a 125cc Honda until my bike turns up. WOW! Late-breaking delays on my BMW’s arrival will mean I still have 3-4 weeks until I can collect it (sigh!), but now I’m able to spend some of that time exploring the Timor countryside rather than only darting around Dili’s dusty drives. I’m actually really excited – it’ll mean I can have a bit of countryside and a bit of solitude. I’ll be a pig in mud, funnily enough. Thanks so much, Rob. I’ve committed to providing some photos along the way “in return” for the bike loan, as apparently Rob’s NGO needs a refresh of stock imagery. That arrangement is designed to make it seem a little more mutual than philanthropic, but I sense that even that design is a generous gesture simply to alleviate any sense of discomfort at my end. I’m really excited at the prospect of getting out to explore the wilderness unconstrained by others’ schedules or needs.
But back to the convivial status quo, tonight there’ll be a crew of half a dozen or so of us sharing Shrove Tuesday pancakes for tea, back at my current accomodation. Somehow I’ve been tasked with making said pancakes, so we’ll see how that goes. I’m sure I’ll manage.
It really is quite astounding how social my time here in Timor has been, given that I arrived on a plane three weeks ago knowing not a single soul. It pays to lean in where life offers opportunity, either to enjoy community or to make a contribution.
5 Comments
Be careful with those pancakes. I remember them landing you with big leadership responsibilities once upon a time.
I’m enjoying travelling with you so much. Pics are great too. Thanks heaps. Are you painting as well? Draw/paint the people?
Really enjoying your updates Daniel! (I don’t remember too much about your choral singing in 1992. But I do remember that you, Richard and I wrangled the juniors in our house to win the inter house choir competition that year. 👊)
Great read, thank you Daniel.
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Be assured that Daniel’s pancakes and singing (and attitude to tackling each) were excellent. I predict that this lad will go far.