Stories from the Tropic #17

The countdown begins. Only 22 days and I am on my way home yet again. No matter where you happen to find yourself in the world one thing remains constant - time flies - especially as you get older. It seems like yesterday I was reflecting on my first return to Winnipeg and the reintegration into my new life in Dili. Now my new life isn't so new and I wonder what my second experience to Winnipeg will be like, all the while knowing that this is the best time of the year, weather wise, in Dili. The dry season is upon us and what a dream it is - the mornings are crisp and relatively cool (22c is the lowest I have seen) and by 9 or 10am the sun blazes to a nice comfortable, dry 32 - 35. I picked up Keith and Sandra at the airport on Sunday after there first leave and we both agreed that it is now harder to get use to variable weather, rather than the heat of tropics.

The weeks prior have gone by incredibly quickly as I have been very busy at work preparing the 2010 budget for the utility. The fiscal year follows the calender year for EDTL (and the government) and here I am preparing a budget for the next year although we still have 6 months left for 2009. In a developing country such as Timor Leste long term plans are no longer than 1 or 2 years; why build something permanent when it will just be destroyed, looted or burnt? That is the attitude we battle on a daily basis. Similarly I had to hound my staff relentlessly to process all 2009 purchase order requests and get all the money committed for the 2009 year. Now I am left with the unenvyable task of begging, pleading and convincing the government powers that we still need money to run the utility for the remaining six months left in the 2009 calender year. I remind myself of the cliche I threw around recklessly previously: "thats why they pay you the big bucks". How true it is. I came from a world where everyone knew there tasks and went about doing them - skilled to unskilled, here we start from nothing and build up the knowledge from there. I was warned prior to boarding my flight here in January that frustration is your largest challenge - and that is definately the case. When your under a deadline you need your team focused on the task at hand - for me that meant preparing, consolidating, presenting the annual budget but also filing, searching, digging and begging for information that was not there. No one understands time as we do. I had tasks for two of my teamates and implored upon them I needed this information by end of day - two days later I get information that is inadequate at best. As I said previously, the days go by quickly!

By the end of the week I had another experience I would otherwise choose to avoid: the Timor Funeral. Unfortunately a member of our customer service staff died at a young age of 31. While no one knows for sure, given what we heard of his ailments it sounds like cancer (no one knows what he died of as no doctors/treatment is avaible). As a member of our staff the four (of 5)directors (Mac is on leave to Nova Scotia) as well as other EDTL staff gathered at the office and drove to the outskirts of town to attend to the funeral. No funeral homes, no nothing - we meet at there barren, cinder block home and once all assembled walk in procession up to the house with guys carrying 3, 35kg bags of rice at the head of the group. Once in the yard we pack into the sparse living room to view the body. Imagine inviting 40 friends and relatives to pack into your living room to see mom, dad whomever laid out on the coffee table. There candles burned, with the poor wife and sister clamouring over the body chanting/yelling/wailing. Disturbing to say the least. A prayer ensued which afterwards we express our condolences to the widow and she embraces us and everyone else in the room. Once that is done it is out to hang in the yard (there are about 50 - 60 milling about) where the empty coffin lies in waiting. This is the time when the families decide where the body should be buried. Usually, as in our country, the spouse decides where the body is laid to rest, unfortunately Nicolai the deceased, is from Viqueque and tradition there is that the body must go back to the birthplace. Difficult for the wife and family (3 young children) to visit the grave site with no transportation and a 6 hour drive to grave site. We still don't know what the decision ultimately was. As you can imagine in a new nation, in a hot climate, without services the body must be addressed quickly, usually within 24 hours. Hence as the family argued where the body would be laid to rest the others picked up the body from the living room table and loaded the poor guy into the coffin. I noted oddly, that his feet, arms and legs were tied up to ensure that no 'errand' limbs would cause difficulty fitting him in the coffin. Good thing as I noted that rigor mortis had already set in. While that vivid, real experience was disturbing enough what really disturbed me was the consequences for both the family and the country in general. There is no such thing as a department of vital statistics, no morgue, no funeral home - there is no record of who is born and in this case who dies. You realize why insurance is an unknown quantity in this country. In alot of cases the deceased are put in a concrete, ornamentally tiled crypt in the yard somewhere. Imagine mowing the front lawn cutting around mom and dad in the front lawn - to us very strange - to the Timorese quite normal. How lucky we are as we take for granted that when we meet our maker the "system" takes care of things: death certificates, morgues, funeral homes, and insurance. Without these systems all you can do is think fatalistically (bad pun) about the fate of the wife and the 3 young kids; this is a paternalistic society so without Dad making his wages the future prospects of the wife and kids are not good. They, like many others I'm sure, will live in destitude. Sad, but reality.

On a more upbeat note the remainder of the weekend was all good. For me serious pool time with a new book on a glorious sunny, hot day, an early dinner and some DVD's in the evening and a early night. The next day Don, myself and Alisa were off to snorkel and then down the road for beach time. First to K41 for snorkelling - spectacular as always - floating on the boyant salt water watching a myriad of strange life going on all around you. All the action does not happen on the water, a pig came along to see what was up, and while I went to get her out of range I found her quite tame and as soon as I pressed a hand to it to push it away did she fall on her side like the obidient family pet grunting happily with the physical contact! That done I went back into the water again only to be told that afterwords our favorite pig came back, picked up Don's bag and raced off - thankfully Alisa was on it and gave chase with nothing lost, only a memorable story to tell. From there it was down the road to Dollar Beach, a wonderful white sand beach that is named for the locals that use to charge the Malies a dollar for turning off the highway to access it (no longer). Another swim, some frisbee throwing, a few cold beers - another glorious day.

And so begins yet another week

Into which Timor life I am allowed to peek