Extended Family

The Day of the Dead and the Day of All Souls are coming up, and as a result, the roads were full of people returning to their ancestral homes. Already precarious roads became more dangerous. Microlits were overcrowded; drivers were passing; motorcyclists were squeezing in everywhere.

We left Janu's dad sitting in the shade outside a supermarket in Baucau, about half way between Tutuala and Dili. His oldest daughter was due to pick him up and take him the rest of the way to Vacaque. She and her family were due in 45 minutes. Thirty minutes later we saw them on the roadside, waiting for another carload of relatives to join them. I think Janu and S were exempt from Day of the Dead activities because they were helping the Canadian visitors.

We took a breather from the oncoming traffic and potholes by stopping at Janu's uncle’s house. That branch of the family lives about half an hour outside of Dili, in a beautiful thatched and bamboo house. We sat under the bougainvillea, grateful for a gentle breeze and wonderful hospitality.

Two sons are studying at university -- one in International Relations; the other in Civil Engineering. A daughter, Lo, was studying English in an intense program locally. The aunt teaches Kindergarten. It was our first visit where men and women mingled, although it took a few minutes for the mom to feel comfortable enough to actually sit with us.  She wanted to be part of the pictures near the end though.

As I started to say, their home was beautiful. The walls were split bamboo; the roof/ceiling thatched palm fronds. The floors were tile atop a cement slab. All this surrounded by a garden resplendent with bloom.

Soon enough, talk turned to crocodiles. Timorese legend has it that if a person is good and kind, they will not be troubled by a crocodile. There's also a creation-of-country story where a young boy helped a crocodile, and somehow the country came into being as a result. I'm sorry, but I can't remember it properly.

Driving back from Tutuala, we saw a few signs warning people of crocodiles, especially when the road was on a flood plain. Turns out the relatives have been harbouring a four meter long crocodile, and have named him Raffi. Only Grandpa cleans it's water, and he's gone away, so no one is sure what will become of Raffi. So far, no one is stepping forward to take over.

Raffi eats chicken, about once a week.

We had a lovely visit. Lo brought out some delicious tea. Engineering student son says he puts a lemon leaf in the pot. It also tasted of cinnamon. She also brought out some dried bananas and a local sweet made from palm sugar. It was rolled up, then sliced. Very delicious. No one fed Raffi, nor was fed to Raffi.

Back in Dili, I washed my hair and wanted to retire early. However, I knew it would be smarter to have dinner first.  Now I'm definitely ready to call it a day.

Tomorrow should be interesting as we visit the graveyard here in Dili.