Odds and (sad) sods

Yesterday was American Thanksgiving, and Sierra went home at noon to bake a pie.  She was very excited about having pie.

So today I asked her how it turned out. Well. It turned out well, but her evening had hiccups. She had invited a friend over, and friend didn't want to go out. Yesterday morning, a man in her neighbourhood was murdered, and retaliation measures had begun.  

I skirt that neighbourhood every day on the way to and from Ba Futuru.

I didn't notice anything amiss this morning, and on the way home I started getting creeped out because there were no women walking on the street. It's VERY unusual not to see a mix of men and women. When I passed by a weird intersection, a cab had stopped and several men got out with their roosters in carriers. Okay, that explains the gender disparity. The men are migrating to the Friday Night Cock Fight. Which just happens to be in the area of yesterday's violence.

I saw more young men who were probably on their way to the cock fight. A few had roosters of their own. One teenager was fidgeting with coins in a plastic bag.

Yesterday at noon, I saw something that I hadn't seen before -- motorcycle police were congregating at the police booth by Nico Lobato’s statue. A few minutes later, I saw a motorcycle parade go down the street. There was one SUV in the mix, so I just assumed that someone important had come in at the airport. Now I think they were putting on a show of force for the troubles.


It's easy to get complacent with my little routine. I walk to work in the morning, work among hardworking creative people. Walk two kilometres for lunch, seeing school kids on the way. Walk two kilometres back, occasionally saying Bon Tarde to someone as we pass each other. Do some work among same hard working creative crowd. Walk home, stopping for an air conditioned break at Timor Plaza. Play computer games. Watch Netflix. Eat wash sleep. Pretty simple life.


And then I hear about what's gone on nearby.  Every place has violence. Every place has a mixture of good and bad, with good outweighing the bad. Dili is no different, until something happens. Even then, I don't think that the reaction is that widespread. Otherwise the cock fight wouldn't have gone on as usual. Right?


Right.


To finish up with the tale of the pie, Sierra invited a different friend to join her and the kids for pie and dinner food as well.  Different friend lives in a non-impacted neighbourhood and was delighted by the invitation. Good times were had.

On the walk in to work today, there were several hawkers selling Timorese flags. Monday is Independence Day and these young salespeople were taking advantage of the celebratory spirit.

As I've said before Independence Day marks the break from Portuguese colonial rule. Restoration Day marks the break from Indonesian rule.