Misadventures on the Mikrolet

This past weekend Ulla and I travelled to Laga to visit the sisters and the orphanage there. This was my first experience riding on a mikrolet. As you can see in the picture, a mikrolet is really just a large van with a long bench lining the length of each side of the interior. You can comfortably seat about 8 people in the back, but a mikrolet never travels anywhere with just 8 people. On one of journeys we squeezed 25 people inside!

Ulla and I were able to catch a mikrolet along the dirt road right outside the orphanage around noon. We hopped in the back and were the only passengers. I took a seat and stared out one of the side windows in front of me (I was facing sideways). We began moving, and I immediately felt a little queasy. Siitting sideways in a moving vehicle is something new to me, and it was difficult to see out the dirty windows so that I could fix my eyes on an object outside to prevent carsickness.  We drove for about 5 minutes before a man standing with a goat signaled for the mikrolet to stop to pick him up. I thought, “Surely he’s not going to be getting on, not with a goat. Maybe he knows the driver and just wants to say hello.” As has so often been the case regarding my mission experience here in East Timor, I was wrong. The man quickly wrestled his goat to the ground, tied its legs together, picked it up and carried it on the bus with him!

For some reason, the driver told Ulla and me to come sit in the passenger seat in the front next to him. I wasn’t sure why he asked us to do that, but I really didn’t mind. I didn’t want to sit in the back by the goat. While we were still stopped, the driver pulled out a cigarette and started smoking it. I quickly remembered my sensitivity to smoke, and I was thankful to be sitting next to an open window. Ulla, who was sitting between the driver and myself, however, got a faceful of smoke at one point and must have smelled it the whole trip.

At this point, we turned around and actually headed back the way we had just come. When we passed by the spot where we had boarded the bus, I seriously considered calling it quits and getting off right then and there. I figured I will be here for another 7 months, so I have plenty of time to explore East Timor. Surely one of the sisters from one of the 2 convents here would need to go up to Laga at some point, and I could tag along with her in one of the sisters’ “chauffeured” vehicles. I didn’t see any reason to have to suffer on this mikrolet another minute. I wanted to get out, but something kept me from doing so. I reasoned that it couldn’t get much worse that it was right now, so I might as well stick it out. Furthermore, I knew if I got off the bus I would have to explain to all of the sisters at the convent why I had come back so soon. I didn’t want to go through the embarrassment of that. I wanted to tough it out. I wanted to prove to them and to myself that I CAN do this. One of my goals before coming here was to truly immerse myself in the culture and experience how the East Timorese live. This is their primary mode of transportation-thousands of people travel on mikrolets every day. Am I really so “privileged” that I can’t live (or at least travel) like an East Timorian for 1 day?

Within 20 minutes of driving along the bumpy road on our way to Baucau we had picked up 15 other people. This brought the total number of passengers heading to Baucau to 20! I liken the mikrolet to a clown car-it is so small, yet somehow there always seems to be enough room to squeeze in another rider. The rest of the hour-long trip to Baucau went very smoothly. Well, as smoothly as a trip in East Timor can go, that is. We bumped along on the rugged roads, the sheep bleating in the back of the van along the way. I was grateful to be sitting in the front seat, facing forward, with a cool breeze on my face. I wondered how bad the next trip would be when I probably wouldn’t have this luxury. The fare for this hour long trip? $1!

Once in Baucau, we hopped onto another mikrolet headed toward Laga. The mikrolet was empty, so we waited a good half an hour for it to fill up before heading out. The elderly lady who sat down across from Ulla was very excited to see malae (foreigners) on the mikrolet. After talking for a while, she offered us some homemade food from a bag she was carrying. I was wary of eating anything offered by a stranger in a foreign country (much less something homemade), but Ulla grabbed some and offered me a bite. It was crunchy, and sort of sweet, but I couldn’t tell you what it was. I only had a little bit. The good news-I didn’t die. And no, I won’t be accepting any more food from strangers any time soon.

An elderly man carrying a rooster sat down across from me. I felt so badly for the little boy sitting beside him, because he had to ride with a faceful of feathers for the whole hour and a half trip. The man had a very dirty towel wrapped around his shoulders, and every once in a while he would use it to wipe the sweat from his face. Who knows how many germs were on that thing? I guess if he’d lived this long with these habits, there was no point in trying to talk him out of them now.

The trip to Laga was very hot. There were 25 people and 2 chickens jammed into the small mikrolet, and we stopped often to let people on and off. There are very small “windows” in the mikrolet to let air in, but you only feel a breeze if you are travelling fast enough. With all of the stops we made, it was hard to ever feel “cool”. I mostly kept my head down and eyes closed, so I didn’t feel too sick along the way.  We were some of the last people to get off the mikrolet, and when the drivers heard we were going to the orphanage, they drove us up the steep hill, into the compound and right up to the orphanage doors (unbeknownst to us at the time this cost us an additional 25 cents, bringing our trip total from Baucau to Laga to $1). I was very grateful to get off the hot mikrolet, and as a parting gift it gave me a firm bump on the head as I ducked out of it. Regardless, I had survived my first one-way trip on the mikrolet!

The return trip home from Laga was pretty similar to the trip to Laga: hot and very crowded. At one stop on the way to Baucau, an elderly lady boarded the bus. Without being prodded by her mom (who was carrying a smaller child in her lap), an 8 year old girl stood up to allow the older lady to sit down. This left the girl without a seat, and she stood in the small space in the middle of the seats before a complete stranger motioned for the girl to sit on her lap! I never cease to be amazed at the kindness and generosity of these people. The bus was extremely hot and cramped, yet this stranger did not hesitate to offer the girl her lap to sit in. It was so kind!

We were the first ones on the mikrolet for the last leg of our journey from Baucau to Venilale. Thus, we  drove around different streets of town for a good half an hour before finally heading “home”. Because we were the first ones on, we got to sit at the very back of the mikrolet. This was great because I could look out the large back window and focus on the road without feeling carsick. This was the “hippest” mikrolet we had been on so far. It played songs on the radio that I had actually heard and could understand! Some songs I recognized included Jason Mraz’s song, “I’m Yours”, “Hotel California”, “This Time for Africa”, and even Justin Bieber songs! No one else on the bus seemed as excited as I was to hear “American” songs-go figure.

Because we were at the very back of the bus, we were in clear view to all the people we passed who were walking or working along the roads. Some waved at us first, sometimes we waved first. Either way, they were always very excited that we waved to them! We felt a little like celebrities!

I am happy to say I survived my first round-trip mikrolet journey! It was definitely enlightening  to experience how people here travel. In the United States every passenger on a plane, subway or bus has their own seat. We’re uncomfortable if we happen to bump shoulders with someone sitting next to us. Furthermore, we never have to worry about sitting next to a chicken, goat or pig. We are so blessed to have non-smoking transportation that includes air conditioning, seat belts, and smooth roads. Perhaps I will become so used to travelling on the mikrolet that I will forget what travel is like in the U.S. It will be a real shock to come home and sit by only humans next time I ride a bus or a take a subway. 

Running in East Timor

Last week I went on my first run in East Timor! I was a little anxious to get out, but I am glad I did. It was a great experience. Below is an excerpt from my journal documenting my first run.

One of the scenes from my run

I headed out the back driveway of the school around 8:30 a.m., not really sure of a route, just wanting to get out and explore. Soon I hit a fork in the road-down one road I saw 2 men walking toward me-I chose the other road. This road took me out by the other convent and lead me into the “town” of Venilale. I didn’t realize Fridays are school and street clean up days for all the students in Venilale. I was a little embarrassed to run by all of them, so I stopped and walked.  I ended up walking for a good 10 minutes flanked by school children on either side of the road who were pulling weeds and sweeping and picking up trash. Everyone stopped and stared as I passed by, and many offered a cheery, “Bondia!” (Good morning!). Several people asked me where I was going, and I didn’t know how to say I was just exercising. I don’t think these people “just exercise.” They are either work hard or playing soccer games or tag. There is no “exercise.” They don’t really need it. They stay active enough around the house and playing with their friends. Sr. Johana later told me I could just say, “Pasear”, a nice stroll.

Soon I came to the ”Bemvindo ba Venilale” sign. From here there are 3 possible routes you can take. The very steep uphill route straight ahead was the road Sr. Menia and I had taken the week before on our walk to the oratory. The road to the left was downhill and the road to the right looked pretty flat. I knew a nice flat road would be my best bet since I was pretty out of shape from not having run in almost a month, so I chose the route to the right.

I was a little anxious to start running, both because I knew I was out of shape and because I have never really liked people watching me as I run. When you are in a race, most people are cheering for their own family member or teammates, and they aren’t really focused on you. But when you are in a foreign country where running for exercise is almost unheard of, people are bound to stare. Once I finally started running though, I felt better about it. Maybe I did look ridiculous, but I can only get better from here. I already stand out because I am a “malae” (foreigner), so I don’t think anyone is too concerned with HOW I look while I am running. These people are just so curious and interested in seeing a malae out exercising! As I started running I “got into the running groove” and was reminded why I like it so much. It is challenging, but every minute you run is like a mini victory. YES, I did it! I can do another minute! Etc…

To my dismay, I quickly discovered that this route was actually primarily downhill, too. Therefore, as you might imagine, I was able to easily run 10 minutes without feeling tired or out of breath. The scenery along this road was beautiful! There were trees and huts lining the road, but I could see fields beyond that and tall, majestic mountains in the distance. Many young children and mothers were working in and around their huts, and they all would stop and stare as I passed by. Many greeted me with a  Bondia, but some younger children shouted out, “Malae! Malae!” (foreigner). I still don’t know if this is a friendly greeting or a way of making fun of me, but I generally answer back with a friendly “Bondia!” Some of the kids seem so amazed that the “malae” acknowledges them. When I say hello back sometimes they jump up and down or laugh. Some even came up to give me high fives. 

It was difficult to really take in the scenery because the road was so bumpy and uneven. Cars here drive on the left side of the road, so I figured I should run on the right. When I saw other people on the streets though, they were walking on the smoothest, most even part of the road (generally the middle). That seemed like a good strategy, so I followed suit.  I heard a car slowly coming up from behind me but didn’t think much of it. It definitely had enough room to go around me. As the vehicle passed me I saw that it was actually a microlet bus. It honked as it drove by, startling me. I jumped a little bit and almost ran off the road! I forgot that cars here honk for any number of reasons-they may honk to signal for you to get out of the way, as a friendly greeting, or to warn others they are coming around a sharp bend. I assumed it was honking as a friendly greeting.

Soon I turned around and headed back to school. The uphill return journey was much more difficult than I had anticipated! The good news was that it was much easier to answer the “Where are you going?” question on the way back. I would tell them “Eskola”, and they would nod back knowingly. As I passed one house, a mom holding her youngest child stood in her doorway with her other 3 kids and clapped and cheered for me! It was so nice! Although exercising with so many people watching was a little nerve wracking, it was also motivating. I had decided on the way back uphill that I would alternate between running for a minute and walking for a minute. However, if at the end of that minute I was passing by a house with people staring at me, I couldn’t just STOP right in front of them-I had to keep going!

As I ran by the school kids lining the road on the way back, they all stopped working and clapped and cheered for me, too! It was like I was running a race, but I was the only runner (so I knew all the applause was for me!) It was really nice, but I still felt very awkward. What were these kids really thinking? I tried to stay confident and meet their glances with “Bondia!” A lot of them cheered and laughed as I ran by. I knew they probably weren’t laughing AT me, they were probably laughing at the situation.  These moments are awkward for me, but I think they also help me to develop self-confidence. No, they are not laughing at me, and even if they are, SO WHAT? I am not going to let it interfere with my exercise routine. I am doing something healthy and hopefully setting an example for them. I don’t need to be ashamed or embarrassed by that.

So overall my first run was good! I exercised for 45 minutes total, running 20 minutes. I was sweaty and thirsty when I got back, but am looking forward to doing it again tomorrow (hopefully there won’t be as many spectators, but hey, if I can face all those school kids, surely I can face other people I will pass along the way!

No Ordinary Priest Ordination

This past weekend I attended an ordination for Father Andre in Wailili, a village about 35 minutes from Venilale. The truck (which was the same one we rode in here to Venilale) would not start, and 2 sisters and I pushed it backwards out from under the awning and then pushed it forward a little bit to give it a little “head start”. It did the trick! Soon we were on our way. The sisters graciously let me sit in the front seat, which I appreciated. I was a little nervous about the trip because I had been so sick the last time we drove here in East Timor. I tried to focus on the road ahead and not look off too often to the sides. It seemed to be a pretty good strategy. We stopped in Fatumata, a village 15 minutes outside of Wailili, to drop off some supplies at a Don Bosco School. I was surprised it only took us 40 minutes to get to Wailili, because I had never really gotten a clear answer on the exact distance from anyone and was expecting the worst.

When we arrived at the church at 9 a.m., there were already a lot of people standing outside. I knew the ceremony started at 9:30 and I figured the inside of the church must already be full. I had heard it would be a long ceremony so I was not thrilled at the idea of standing outside through the whole thing. Within just a few minutes, we processed down a hill, lead by adult women drummers in colorful tais clothing. We turned right into a large open auditorium-type space. To my surprise (and delight) there were seats right up front designated for the sisters. People really do treat them so well here in East Timor!

The weather was absolutely perfect-overcast and just the right temperature-not hot, not cold, cool enough to be comfortable without sweating or needing a long sleeved shirt. Because it was cloudy you didn’t need sunglasses and didn’t have to squint to see. There were a few light raindrops that fell, but nothing more.

There was a big sign over the altar that I had Sr. Carolina translate for me. It said, “Blessed are they who trust in God.” She was nice enough to translate most of the “unusual” things that happened in mass for me-i.e. things that don’t typically occur. There was a high school band (Don Bosco boys) providing pre-mass entertainment. One of the songs they played was the “Allelulia Chorus”. I had never actually heard this played in anything but movies as a sort of joke, so to hear it played live for the ordination of a priest was a nice, but funny experience to me. 3 different men welcomed everyone to the ceremony. One said he would like to give this day to God, but we must recognize that it is already God’s. The priest who was being ordained lived here in this village before attending seminary school in Dili. He was the first Salesian priest to ever come from this village, so it was definitely cause for celebration. Several speakers mentioned it was a miracle! One of the speakers gave a history of Catholicism in East Timor. He said that Dominicans served as missionaries here first, but everyone thought they were crazy. To get followers, they would set up camp by the village water supply so that everyone would “come to them.” When people came to the water, they would quickly baptize them to “seal the deal.” In 1927 the first Salesian 

missionaries came to East Timor and now in 2010 the first Salesian priest of this village was being ordained!

The soon-to-be ordained priest (Father Andre) was dressed in a white shirt and black dress pants, but was wearing traditional East Timor head gear and a tais garment around his chest. His family was summoned up to remove the traditional clothing as a symbol of him letting go of “this world” and entering the Salesian priesthood. He was then lead back to his home by the drummers and dancers so that he could put on his priestly vestments for mass. Mass started around 10 a.m. There were several priests presiding at the mass and they were lead to the altar by half a dozen altar boys, drummers and dancers. 

Father Andre in his traditional East Timorian gear

The mass itself actually went by pretty quickly. The new priest gave the homily and kept it under 10 minutes (the shortest homily I have heard thus far in East Timor). His extended family brought up the offerings which included the bread and wine, candles, flowers, assorted food items like bread, bananas and papayas and even 2 doves that he set free! One of the altar servers bumped into a flower arrangement, knocking it over and scattering flowers all over the altar. With so many people on the small altar, it was only a matter of time until something like that happened.

The singing at mass was lead by a girl’s choir (also from Don Bosco’s school?) They sounded pretty good on most of the songs, but there were 3 singers who lead the Responsorial song who were very flat. Thankfully all of the songs sounded better after that. There were more songs and singing than usual during mass, but all in all, the mass itself wasn’t much longer than a typical mass. At the end of the service, the newly ordained priest got up and thanked everyone for coming and for all of their support over the years. He thanked many people by name and category (friends, family, parishioners, the choirs, etc). 4 more men got up and essentially did the same thing-thanked everyone for attending. The last man to get up stopped speaking because the electricity stopped working. I didn’t think what he had to say could have been THAT important…couldn’t we just end the mass already? I don’t know what he ended up saying, but everyone in the audience was laughing, so I guess it was good that he got to say it after all. 

Finally, the mass was ended. I thought everyone would leave, but instead, EVERY single person in the congregation came up and kissed the priest’s hands. There were hundreds of people lined up waiting for their turn. The sisters did not participate in this, but they DID wait until everyone had finished before they left to go to the reception. After kissing the priests, many people came and hugged or greeted the sisters. I got to meet Sr. Carolina’s sister, who looks a lot like her. I pulled out my Bible that I had brought in case the ceremony got too boring. I didn’t expect to need it AFTER the ceremony! I read a good 10 pages from Jeremiah before I decided to put it away. By the time the kissing of the hands was done it was 1 p.m.

The reception was in a very large tent and there were about 6 serving stations. There were girls lined up at all of the tables to hand the people their plates and utensils, but primarily to keep people from going through the line until the appointed time. The food was already on the tables, but we all sat down and got to stare at it for 30 minutes while we waited for the priests to enter the tent and for all the announcements and gifts to be awarded. I was not sitting by sister Carolina at this point, so I was frustrated because I did not know what was going on. The sisters on either side of me did not speak English well, so I couldn’t ask them. I knew I just needed to be patient, but at this point I was just feeling frustrated at my lack of understanding. I felt like an impatient little kid again-not mature enough to understand the events happening around me, but able to understand the universal idea of “food.” It’s interesting how you comforting it is to know what is going on. Yes, this whole ceremony and reception would have been long even if it was in English, but at least I would have known what was being said. Maybe they had announced that food would be served at such and such time or after these gifts were handed out. Instead, I sat there not having a clue what was going on and not knowing why they were still talking. How could everyone else be so patient? Wasn’t anyone else hungry? We hadn’t eaten since 7 a.m. and it was now almost 2 p.m. I wasn’t hungry as much as bored, though. I needed something to DO. Eating was something to do. “Please just let us eat soon!” I thought. Couldn’t they make this process any more efficient? Why did they call people up in 3 groups to receive tais scarves? Couldn’t they just call them up all at once? Do we really all have to watch these big wigs drink their wine?

Eventually they called up all the sisters (and I got to go, too) to taste some traditional East Timor food. I was handed a hollowed out bamboo stalk stuffed with meat and rice. I turned to the sister beside me and asked what it (the meat) was. She said, “Meat.” Not too helpful. I decided to try it anyway. It actually tasted almost like steak, but was a little chewier. I didn’t really like it. I asked the other sister what it was and she said she it was goat! I have never eaten goat before. It wasn’t terrible, but it would definitely take me some getting used to. Thankfully I wasn’t required to eat all of the food in my bamboo stalk and I slipped it back onto the table just like all the other sisters did. As sisters, they were first to go through the line, which was a nice treat. Still, though, I felt badly for everyone who still had to wait for food. I thought I had to wait a long time and I was one of the first to go through the line.

 I was pleasantly surprised to find that there was TONS of food on the table. The first thing in the line was rice-3 different kinds of rice, in fact. Plain rice, what looked like Spanish rice and fried rice. I wasn’t sure what I would find further down the table, so I got a pretty big portion of rice, just in case. I found there were a lot of American things served like lasagna  and meatballs (ok, I guess those are Italian, but I eat them IN America), French fries with ketchup, a stromboli with peas and carrots in it, and what looked like an ice cream cone but tasted like a taco with hamburger meat in it. I also tried a shish kebab with meat that I recognized on it. There were a lot of meat dishes, but I passed on most of them because I didn’t know what they were and didn’t want to risk getting sick (especially with the drive back still ahead of us). There were also a lot of vegetables I didn’t recognize, so I avoided those too. Still, I ended up with a big bowl of food. I felt a little embarrassed by all the food I had picked up, but I figured I had to get a lot because I was sure there would be stuff I picked up that I wouldn’t like. I was right in my assessment-while I did like most of it, some of the things did not agree with me.

At the end of the serving line there were sodas or fruit juice to drink and water in a sealed cup. The water was arranged in a semi-sphere structure and looked like a big igloo. It was very cool. After we had eaten our food I was surprised to find there was even dessert!! The dessert wasn’t all that “sweet’ to me, though...I tried one thing that looked like gelatin and another that was some kind of pound cake. I also tried some fruit cocktail that I liked, but It was interesting because it seemed to have a “kick” to it. Shortly after dessert one of the sisters lead me over to where there was dancing. We saw 3 groups perform-2 wore traditional ET clothing, and the other group wore t-shirts and caps-like gangsters! I didn’t understand why, but I thought it was funny. I enjoyed all 3 dances.

Finally, we decided to head out. I said goodbye to the priest I had met before the ceremony who had actually visited Dallas, Texas 13 years ago! He knew some of the Salesian sisters in San Antonio and said one of his former students is there now. He heard that I was going to Com and told me not to worry about the sharks-the crocodiles usually scare them away.

All in all, I had a great time at the ordination, even though I didn’t understand most of what was going on. I COULD understand the excitement of the people in the village and the love they had for their newly ordained priest. I was blown away by the patience these people exhibited throughout the day. I certainly have a lot I can learn from them in this regard.

Fr. Andre in his priest garments

"Com" on Over!

Ulla and me on our own private beach in Com!

Today I went on a day trip to Com with Ulla (the other volunteer who is heading back to Germany in 2 weeks) and Sr. Sylvia to sightsee and to visit with Sr. Sylvia’s family. I was excited for the trip but also a little nervous because I didn’t know how long the drive was (Sister told me it was 2 to 3 hours. Did that mean it would be 2 hours or 3? This is a very important thing to know for someone who might get carsickness and needs to mentally prepare for such a trip!). Also, as usual, I had no idea what the schedule for the day was, so I didn’t know what to expect. This has been a recurring theme during my time here in East Timor, but I still haven’t exactly gotten comfortable with not knowing what’s going on all the time.

As we were driving along in our little truck, I couldn’t help but think of that “It’s a Small World” ride from Disney Land. The ride makes a lot of twists and turns and along the way different characters pop out from the shadows. On the drive on the winding roads, the “characters” were people in the small villages we passed through. They would all stop whatever work they were doing and stare at us. Many would smile excitedly and wave, and yes, some even shouted out “Malae!” (foreigner).

We stopped in Baucau (45 minutes outside of Venilale) to have our tire pressure checked, which took all of two minutes and was free of  charge ( I think because there was a nun in the car). Then we stopped quickly at the Salesian convent in Baucau to deliver meat to the sisters. We even saw a swimming pool in the city (the first one I have seen in East Timor and probably one of the few pools in the whole country). Once we were out of Baucau, the scenery changed dramatically. The road was no longer lined with trees. Instead, the were marshy grasslands on either side of the road, with a a view of the ocean for much of the drive on our left, and a beautiful view of the mountains on our right. These wide open spaces made me feel much better-no more car sickness! The road to Com was surprisingly smooth. There were a fair number of potholes, but not nearly as many as the short drive from Venilale to Baucau or the much longer drive from Venilale to Dili. We were able to drive around 60 mph for a part of the way, but that was the topmost speed we ever reached. Usually we were coasting between 45-50 mph. When driving in East Timor you have to be prepared to stop on a dime to avoid hitting the 4 C’s: errant chickens, cattle, canines and children. At one point I saw a chicken cross the road. We did not stop to question its motives.

An hour and a half outside of Venilale we passed through Laga, a small village overlooking the ocean. Ulla volunteered at the orphanage in Laga for one month and we plan to visit this village next week so she can say goodbye to the kids. I am excited to meet all of them.

At one point we stopped and sister bought 4 bottled waters and handed the boy a $10 bill. I was shocked that water was so expensive here, but didn’t think much more of it. The boy promptly returned with $9 in change for sister! The waters had not cost $2.50 each, they only cost 25 cents each! I am not sure how these vendors can make a profit selling their items for such low prices.

Around 2 hours into our trip we passed a monument honoring those killed by the Indonesian military forces in East Timor’s War of Independence 10 years ago. Apparently a lot of innocent people were killed (including sisters and priests) and many of the bodies were never found. It is (understandably) still a very sore subject for many of the East Timorian people.

We reached Com in two and a half hours! This seemed like a reasonable time since I was told the trip took between 2 and 3 hours-that turned out to be exactly right! The driver pulled right up onto a large dock and Sister Sylvia, Ulla and I got out to walk around and then explore. We briefly met with Sr. Sylvia’s family before heading to the beach. Even though it was Saturday and the weather was absolutely gorgeous (90 and sunny!) we had the entire beach to ourselves! Ulla told me that bathing suits in East Timor are just your street clothes. I had brought shorts and a t-shirt, assuming we would change once we got to Com. Instead, we headed straight to the beach and I had to change right there out in the open on the beach. Thankfully, there was literally no one there and sister, Ulla and the driver nicely gave me some privacy. It still felt weird, though.

Looking out across the water, you could 4 different shades of blue. Ulla and I swam only in the first shade, the bright, turquoise blue. The water felt wonderful-it was actually pretty warm (i.e. not cold at all) so I jumped right in! The sand was white and soft and there were very few rocks in the water. This was my first time swimming in the Indian Ocean and it was amazing! Definitely the warmest, cleanest and least crowded (at least the part that we were swimming in) of the 3 oceans I have swam in!

After swimming for a good hour, Sister (who had walked along the beach while Ulla and I swam), Ulla and I strolled along the shore for a while, exploring little coves and stopping for a” merinda” (snack) consisting of bananas and pizza (made by Sr. Maria from Italy) around noon. After taking pictures and exploring some more, we walked back to our car and headed to Sr. Sylvia’s parent’s house for lunch. Along the way I asked that we stop to take a picture by the “Careful-Crocodiles” sign. I have never seen a warning sign for crocs before. The driveway up to her parent’s house was more of a hiking trail than a road for driving, but we cautiously made our way up it.

Sr. Sylvia’s parent’s house wasn’t much to look at. It had been overtaken and used as housing for Indonesian soldiers during the East Timorian War of Independence and the soldiers burned it down when they left. Apparently during the Indonesian occupation, all of the Como residents were forced to retreat and live in the woods. When they returned to what was left of their village after the Indonesian army left, they found all of their livestock had been killed and there was a terrible stench. Fishermen would not gather fish for an entire year after the invasion because the water had become so polluted.

Sr.’s parent’s new house was made of bricks of concrete and the floor was a concrete as well. The house was up on a hill, and it has a beautiful view of houses below it and even the ocean! The stove and kitchen sink were under a little metal roof outside the house. The bathroom was also outside. The toilet was a small hole in the ground, and the bathtub was made of concrete as well. The village had running water most of the day, which was a nice convenience. The family had nicely gathered enough water for us all to shower, but we insisted we were fine and would wait until we returned to Venilale.

Although there were very few possessions or furnishings in the house, the kitchen table was adorned with a very nice tablecloth and plates that looked like they could have come from Ikea. Lunch wasn’t too unusual-there was chicken, rice (what a surprise!), green beans, ramen noodles mixed with vegetables and that gross green vegetable staple I can’t pronounce or spell. The only really unusual thing served was the whole fish and fish soup. The fish had literally been cooked head, tail, bones and all and had been simply sliced into 4 pieces for serving. I took a “middle” piece that did not include the head or the tail, but still had to be wary of all the bones inside. It was delicious! While I had seen whole fish in Guatemala, that was almost 10 years ago and I was still a little shocked by the sight. The fish soup consisted of some type of whitish, light yellow broth with whole fish parts in it. The head was jutting out of the broth, which was not appetizing to me, so I passed on that dish. Dessert included bananas that we actually brought from Venilale. I think we also brought the drinks along too because they consisted of Coca-Cola, Sprite, bottled water or canned fruit juice (all things served at the convent).

Sr. Sylvia’s parents did not actually eat with us because they are accustomed to eating at 2 p.m. and it was only 1 p.m. Plus, the father teaches Theology at the local high school, so he was not home on his lunch break yet. Although they were very nice people, it was nice eating with just sister, Ulla and the driver because then I did not feel like I was being “watched” while I ate.  Therefore, I didn’t feel bad about not eating the fish soup or the fish head. I could eat just the foods I knew would agree with me without feeling guilty.

Besides the fish, Com reminded me of Guatemala in another way-the heat! Sr. Sylvia’s mother said they have had an unusually rainy, cool year (just like Venilale), but today was very warm. It must have been 90 degrees and fairly humid as well. As a result, I was literally sweating as we sat eating lunch. I have grown up in Texas and consider myself pretty well accustomed to the heat. I couldn’t figure out why I was sweating so profusely while Ulla and Sr. Sylvia did not seem to break a sweat. Sr. Sylvia was even wearing her long sleeved habit. I have heard that conditioned people sweat more quickly than others, but that didn’t really seem like a logical explanation as I have only run once since I have been in East Timor. Why was I the only one who seemed to be affected by the heat? After finishing his meal, the driver promptly got up and announced he had to go sit outside in the shade-it was too hot in this room. I was glad to know I wasn’t the only one who was hot.

While we waited for lunch (Sr and her mother would NOT let us help them), Ulla and I played with Sr’s 2 year old niece, Zivan. It was a great way to practice our vocabulary because we went around asking her the name of every single item inside and outside the house. Outside the house there was a pig with 4 little piglets. They were so cute! There were also banana and mango trees (neither of which were in season) and even a little garden in the shape of a heart!

After lunch we walked down the main street of Com. It is right alongside the water, and as a result, several beach resorts have sprouted up on either side of the street. We were able to walk along from one place to another, enjoying the scenery and each other’s company. One “resort” had a fun tire swing with a magnificent view. On the porch of the resort there was a large cage housing 2 monkeys! Another resort had an elegantly decorated room-apparently it is a popular spot for wedding ceremonies.

Sr. Sylvia on the tire swing!

Sr. Sylvia must have been related to everyone in town because we seemed to stop at every home  or vendor hut along the main street for her to introduce us to another family member. Some of her family sold tais, which is brightly colored material that can be made into blankets, scarves or purses. Finally, we stopped at Sr. Sylvia’s grandfather’s house to get a few coconuts before heading back to Venilale. Unfortunately, there weren’t any people who were young enough or agile enough to climb the tree to retrieve the coconuts. We had to go home empty handed. While we were sitting talking to her grandfather, I noticed a “bed” outside his house that consisted of a blanket on top of pieces of flat wood. It didn’t look very comfortable, but I guess if you are tired enough you can sleep on anything. On our way back to the car we saw a man carrying a HUGE fish-the biggest fish Ulla or I had ever seen in person. We asked the man if we could take a picture with the fish, and he nicely obliged. The fish must have been pretty big, because when Sister took a picture of the man and me with the fish, she did not zoom out far enough and the whole fish didn’t make it into the picture. Oh well!

Just outside of Com there is a “traditional East Timor house” which is elevated 20 or 30 feet off the ground. The ladder leading up to the “floor” of the house was wobbly and not supported by anything. Ulla deftly climbed up and down it, but I proceeded with more caution. Sister apparently thought I was taking too long and came to check on me to make sure I was okay. She held the ladder for me on the way down, which I appreciated. I didn’t think I took THAT long to climb up and down, but apparently sister did (haha)!

The drive back was pretty uneventful. Ulla and Sr. slept for part of the way, but I am just not comfortable enough in the car to sleep yet. At one point we came up over this big hill and a car was coming at us very quickly in the other direction. Usually when this happens both cars slow down (we did, they didn’t) and swerve slightly off the road. This car swerved AT us before swerving away at the last second. I jumped, because I was SURE we were goners. Apparently Ulla noticed in the back seat and tapped me on the shoulder and laughed. I wonder if she jumped too. How could you not? That was the closest call we have had yet.

When I got back to my room, I used twice as much water as usual to take a shower-I had sand all over me! I also noticed that my cheeks were a little red-I can’t believe I got sunburned in October! I went to bed early because I was so exhausted. What a fun day J

Lessons from Movie Night

Saturday night is movie night here at the school. Last week the girls watched a movie in Portuguese, so I wasn’t really interested in attending. This week I was on the internet in the room beside the cafeteria (where the movie was being played) when I heard the opening music and dialogue from the movie Freaky Friday with Lindsay Lohan. As you may recall, in the movie the mother and teenage daughter unexpectedly switch bodies.  No one else knows this has happened. Excited, I quickly logged off the computer and went to join them as they watched. Sr. Johanna was translating the whole thing for them into Tetum! The movie was in English and there were English subtitles, so it was also a great way for ME to learn and practice Tetum! 

It was so fun to hear the girls crack up at different parts of the movie. It was interesting to note that they seemed to laugh the hardest at facial expressions or actions performed by the actors themselves, not the dialogue. I think much of the verbal humor is lost in translation. For instance, the girls loved when the mom (who was actually the teenager IN the mom’s body) joyfully jumped on the motorcycle and was hugging the daughter’s teenage crush, thought it was hilarious when the mom got a crazy new makeover that included an edgy haircut, ear piercings and crazy clothes, and when she turned away in disgust any time her fiancé tried to kiss her, etc.

Believe it or not, a very valuable lesson was reinforced to me as I watched the movie with the girls.  It is not so much what we SAY, but what we DO that makes a difference in the world. Words are tricky things. They don’t always convey the message we are trying to send, may be misinterpreted or lost in translation. Actions tend to be a lot more straightforward. Therefore, it’s okay that I don’t speak Tetum well. I don’t need to speak it well to convey love and care for the girls I am with. I can SHOW them love by being present, by hugging them, playing with them, talking, singing and laughing with them. We may not always understand what we are saying to each other, but we can understand when we show each other love, respect and kindness through our actions. Actions really do speak louder than words.

The Orphans on TV!

Today the only tv station in the entire country of East Timor came up to film the orphan girls acting out different stories from the Bible. All 120 of the girls had a part to play, and they were all amazing! They have been rehearsing for this play for the past 2 months, and in one of the scenes, Ulla (a volunteer from Germany who has been here since May) played the part of Jesus! Ulla asked me to come to the orphanage an hour early to help the younger girls get into costume. We figured that would be plenty of time-boy were we wrong!

All of the younger girls and the “helpers” were gathered in one big changing room. I was shocked by how patient the girls were as we were helping them to dress and throughout the whole day of play production. If a helper wasn’t available to help a girl to get ready, the girl would just sit or stand patiently until someone addressed her. No little girl ever ran up and tugged on me (or any of the other helpers) asking us to help them next. They all patiently waited their turn.

I was really not very good at dressing the girls, and it took me several attempts to wrap the garments around them the right way, tie the rope around their waists so the garment would fit properly (and not show too much skin), and fix the headpiece just right. Coordinating all the separate elements and making them all look good was a nightmare! Thankfully the girls were very patient and kind with me. The older ones were even able to tell me what each piece of clothing functioned as (i.e. a sash, a belt, a headdress, etc) which was a huge help to me. The first few girls I helped ended up getting readjusted by Ulla or the other sister there, but soon I kind of got the hang of it and dressed the girls in a decent enough way that they didn’t have to be re-done. Some of the girls had really unruly hair that would not stay under their headdress. They patiently tied it up the best they could, and I helped them pin and tie it back as well.

 I was working frantically to get each girl’s costume to look “just right”, but no matter how hard I tried, I felt like I just couldn’t make them look perfect. In spite of myself, I laughed and thought of Jesus’ original twelve disciples-none of them were perfect, either. They were just ordinary men whom God used in an extraordinary manner. Among the twelve were fishermen, a tax collector, and a revolutionary. The Gospels record the constant failings, struggles, and doubts of these twelve men who followed Jesus Christ. After witnessing Jesus' resurrection and ascension into heaven, the Holy Spirit transformed the disciples into powerful men of God who turned the world upside down. I felt better remembering these simple truths and continued working hard and doing MY best to help the children look THEIR best. No, they weren’t perfect, but God doesn’t expect perfection from us, so why should I?

Once everyone was in costume, we headed to the large school room where the production was going to be held. The scenery looked really fantastic! All of the girls were sitting quietly behind the cameras on several mats laid out for them by the sisters. We waited a good 45 minutes while the camera crew got set up. I was shocked by how patient and quiet the girls were while they were waiting for the tv crew to set up, and also as they waited for their turn to perform. I never heard any complaining and all of the kids in the audience sat patiently, quietly and still. I had heard the play itself was only 15 minutes, but it took over 3 hours to shoot!

One of the guys on the camera crew was wearing a shirt that said, “I see angels around me.” I thought that was the coolest shirt! I think too often we look for the bad in people. We focus on the guy who cuts us off in traffic or who took the last brownie in the lunch line. We don’t seem to dwell on the neighbor who gave us a friendly smile and wave goodbye as we headed to work, the person who held the door open for us as we left a building, the janitor who swept and mopped the floors so that we would have a safe and clean environment to work and play in. It’s clear to see that the girls and sisters I am working with are angels in disguise, but sometimes we miss or overlook others in our daily lives who make our day just a little bit brighter or easier by a kind gesture they may have done. How optimistic and positive to focus on and draw attention to the “do-gooders” in this world, instead of dwelling on the not so nice actions we all do from time to time.

The play itself was really cute. The kids all did a fantastic job. There were several different scenes, each with its own musical number. Each girl sang when it was her turn and did the correct dance moves in unison with the others. The play depicted various stories from the Bible. In the opening scene, a pregnant Mary visited Elizabeth. Soon Mary had baby Jesus with her and she danced around the room with Him in her arms. There was also a scene with Zacchaeus (who sang my favorite song of the play) which was really cute-it had great props, acting and singing! At one point Zacchaeus even climbed up into a paper “tree” to get a better glimpse of Jesus. Another scene depicted the woman at the well.  In Ulla’s scene as Jesus, she urged the crowd around her to “Let the children come to me!” The children all sang a song and she went around and patted each one on the head. At another point they were all seated around her and one of the kids asked her, “Lord, teach us how to pray.” I believe those were all of the Bible stories included in the play, but there may have been others I am unaware of because I couldn’t actually understand much of the dialogue in the play. 

The play should air this weekend during the “Children’s Hour” on Saturday night. I am so proud of all the girls and their hard work-it really paid off. It is amazing to think that a camera crew from Dili would drive 4 hours to tape children performing Bible stories in the tiny village of Venilale. The camera crew all said they really enjoyed the play and that the drive was absolutely worth it. The girls are excited about the outcome of all of their hard work, and I think some of them are hoping to become East Timorian celebrities!

Click on this link to view a slideshow of some of my East Timor pictures!

http://tripwow.tripadvisor.com/tripwow/ta-00aa-d82e-1d41?ln