Good bye Timor

As soon as the door closed the tears started. Big fat droplets during the safety brief merged into hiccups and sobs as we taxied down the runway. It was official, I was leaving Timor Leste.

I was crying for the same reason I cried when I left Australia 6 months ago, bound for Timor. I loved my life here and would miss my friends dearly. The irony wasn’t lost on me, but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

I was also crying because there is so much more I could be doing to make the world a fairer place. It’s not fair that I can get on a plane and fly away to a “privileged life”. What gives me that right?
My mother was always careful to be completely fair between my brother and I. She would spend equal amounts on our Christmas presents, we would receive equal amounts of pocket-money and we would get equal scoops of ice-cream. I took that philosophy on-board. When I feed seagulls at the beach, I tear the chips into little pieces and throw them all at once, so every seagull gets a chip! But the world isn’t like that. Not everyone gets a chip. Perhaps my mother would have better prepared me for the realities of life by beating me with a stick while feeding my brother ice-cream.

The jets drowned out my sobs as I watched the little island I called home get smaller and smaller beneath me.

July 2015

I will miss this place

I’m doing 80 on my motorbike down beach road. The sun is rising over my shoulder. The air is cool, the suns rays are warm and my little scooter is purring away under me. A smile crosses my face. I’m on my way to work, a frustratingly wonderful job that I love.

I will miss this place.

I won’t miss the ants, or the insane drivers; but I will miss the weather, the adventures, the food, and most of all the people. Locals whose perseverance and positive attitude is something everyone, everywhere should aspire to; fellow humanitarian volunteers who share my views on the world (what if we all helped each other? Imagine what we could achieve?!); both of which have taught me life lessons and who I hope will always remain my friends.
Only a few weeks left until I leave. This has been the most wonderful journey and I am so grateful to my past self to have the gumption to go through with the decision to leave my comfy life in Australia, and go to Timor. It has only been 6 months, but this will experience stay with me forever more.

July 2015

Timor Leste – Where’s that again?

There it is

An overview:

It’s been almost two weeks since I arrived in Dili. In many ways it is not what I was expecting. Dili is quite developed; it has a shopping plaza, movie theatre, numerous restaurants, frequent city events such as carnivals and horse racing; countless embassy’s and a wide variety of bars providing a decent night life. If you’re willing to pay through the nose, you can get it in Dili. The streets are relatively clean, beggars are few and far between and even the street vendors seem happy. It would be easy to live here, watching the sunset with a cocktail each evening behind a razor-wire fence in an expat bubble.

However beneath this veneer Timor Leste is clearly a developing country. The tap water is undrinkable, electrical supply disruptions are common, bureaucracy is extensive (and often self conflicting) and high unemployment (approx. 20%) is shown through the large number of people ‘hanging out’ around town – no doubt leading to boredom, poverty and crime. But it’s a city, policed and presented like any other. I’m told that in the districts, away from Dili’s expat economic injection, the real poverty is blatant. About 40% of Timor Leste lives below the poverty line, in a nut shell, this buzzword means you can’t afford food for everyone in your family every day. It is debilitating and often inherited.

The districts of Timor Leste

Timor Leste is the fourth newest country in the world and subsequently quite vulnerable, especially with most of their revenue coming from oil/gas and negotiations of ocean borders are ongoing. However the young population (60% is under 25) is resiliently providing a GDP growth rate of 8% (top ten in the world). Timor is developing and quickly.

So two weeks in Timor so far. I’ve found somewhere to live, a motorbike and done a week of Tetum classes. I’ve met some really nice people over here – people who are willing to put their life on hold to do something amazing for people they’ve never met – and the locals seem friendly, welcoming and resilient.

Stay tuned for details…

Barbra

I met an inspirational lady the other day.
I was walking down to Tesco, randomly smiling at strangers (as I do,) and a lady walking her dog stopped to ask me for directions to the local Buddhist centre. Having only lived in here a short while, I only knew a few places in town. Surprisingly, the Buddhist centre was one of them.
As I led her down a side street we started talking. It turns out we were both interested in the meditation classes that the Buddhist centre gave on a Wednesday night. I hadn’t managed to get there yet as I was usually too tired (i.e. lazy ) from work and it went quite late. Barbara had two bus rides to get to and from the Buddhist centre but had managed to go several times. She encouraged me to go check it out. It turns out she was dropping by today to enquire about volunteering her skills in remedial massage to anyone who might need it. I have always wanted to learn massage and I have often enquired about volunteering. However, similar to the meditation, it was something I had yet to accomplish.

Barbara asked me about myself and where I was from. Perhaps because a stranger was leading her down an alley, or perhaps because she was nice, she always managed to turned the conversation back to me. Wanting to know more about where I was from, what I did for work and why I was in England. “To see the world,” was my reply. She always seem genuinely interested in what I was saying.

We reached our destination and I gave her dog a pat, a beautiful black Labrador cross, he wasn’t even a year old and had that excited puppy demeanor.
I felt guilty that I was off to Tesco to buy takeaway dinner and beer, while she was staying till after dark in a town far from home to volunteer her skills to people that she hadn’t met yet. I said my goodbyes and genuinely said that I hoped I would see her again. She said she might run into me at the meditation classes. I started walking back down the alley, deep in my thoughts and my perception altered.

I turned back to watch her walk through the door, her cane lightly tapping the ground and her dog excitedly pulling her along. Did I mention she was blind?

16th Sept 2011

Learning priceless lessons

“I rinse my face in the cold mountain water and as the cold burns my skin I look up to the snow covered peaks. A light cloud wafts pasts, it hangs around the cliffs as if it too wants to be closer to it. The sun peirces through and illuminates the east side of the all three peaks.
I straighten my back and feel the tight muscles complain. I can’t decide if it’s from the last week of heavy labour or the hard wooden bed I slept on. A massage and some yoga would do wonders today, I thought to myself, neither of which was an option. And yet, as I stood massaging the small of my back, gazing across the valley at one of the most inspirational views I’ve ever seen, I felt strong. Strong enough to trek back up the hill, pick up my shovel and keep building the school.”


As the experience of Nepal sinks in my feelings are starting to organise themselves. Tears no longer spring to my eyes when I think about it and the big glob of emotion that choked my throat has settled like a layer of caramel in my stomach.
So what do I feel now?
A big part of it is pride. I built a school in rural Nepal. The more I say that the more it sinks in. I actually went to Nepal and built a school for impoverished children to become educated and get that step closer to making their dreams come true, and getting out of poverty. Wow! If lil’ old me can do that, the possibilities of what we can do together are endless! We really can change the world.
But if I’m honest, most of the pride isn’t from me building a school, it’s because of the people I’ve met while doing so. The amazing Edge of Seven people and the fantastic volunteers who make the world a better place just by being the type of people that they are. They all make me feel better about the world just by existing.
But I am most proud to know people like Khadga, Don Kumar, Dawa, Ram, Karma, the teachers of Phuleli and all the inspirational women of that small village. These people whose stamina, strength and ability to carry on through hardships where most westerners would crumple and fail makes me unbelievably proud to know them and count them as friends. The men and women of Phuleli will forever be my Dai’s and Didi’s. 

My life coach in London said she feels as though she should do some volunteering, that as a good person she should go build a school in Nepal too, not necessarily that she wants too. If you’re sitting there thinking I should do some volunteering, don’t think that you will be doing an amazing thing that no one else can do and receive nothing in return. Anyone can go do it but only some very special people actually do. Those that do make the effort will also receive in return a much bigger gift than a just a school.
Your eyes will be opened.
You don’t need money, possessions, hot running water or to be pain free to be happy. No words can really describe the lesson learnt, you have to experience it for yourself. It will show you what is important in life – what really matters. And that alone is priceless.

“The plane took off from the little runway in Paplu as I struggled to breathe. I watched the wheels bump over the gravel until the ground gave way to a steep cliff, but that wasn’t why I was crying. I was leaving Solukhumbu. I didn’t know if or when I would see my friends, the people of Phuleli, again. I tried to breathe out but the big glob of emotion in my throat only allowed for a strangled cough. I didn’t want to leave. I wanted to stay with these people, to stay as part of the village, to live in the hills and harvest millet and raise a family here. I wanted to shout to stop the plane, to let me off, that I didn’t care about my life back in Australia that I wanted to stay here, where life is simple, where hardship makes every smile richer and where I felt at home. I was dirty, exhausted, hungry and cold but this is where I wanted to be more than anything. Tears streamed out from beneath my sunglasses. My world had been turned upside down.”

Gluttony and Poverty

Two things scare me about going to rural Nepal to volunteer

 

The first is trivial and I feel guilty for even thinking about it: My diet.
I’m not a fussy easy. I will eat almost anything put in front of me (whether I’m hungry or not). But I cannot help but worry about the amount of food that I will be given and if it will be enough to keep me healthy. Don’t get me wrong. I am volunteering with a wonderful company that have guaranteed to keep us well fed and safe. Yet I have this internal anxiety to stockpile food throughout my luggage. Maybe it’s hearing about the hundreds of people that were recently stranded in the region due to bad weather or maybe it’s worrying that my iron levels are already low due to my new vegetarian diet.
Side note: The butchers in Asia will turn anyone vegetarian. There is something shocking about seeing half a buffalo being cut up on a wooden board in the street with flies covering the carcass. It doesn’t make you want to order a steak.
I remember trying to do the 40hr famine when I was in primary school (a fundraising event where you cannot eat and can only drink water for 40hrs.) I couldn’t do it! I would always sneak food or justify soup as a liquid. Even as an adult I have very little power over my eating habits. A great example of this would be the mega-death-meal.  Aptly named as we were convinced it would take at least a day off our life expectancy. My flatmates and I would gorge ourselves on our KFC meal of a zinger burger, large fries, large soft drink, potato and gravy, 2 pieces original recipe and a full-sized zinger wrap to finish it off. The other favourite would be the 2ft subway challenge. Gluttony at its finest.
I can only hope that living on good, healthy food for a month will aid my eating habits for years to come.

 

The second is the major one. Guilt caused by ‘the gap between us.’

Why should they live in poverty when I don’t? I have spoken about this before and right now and it is a concept that I cannot get my head around. I know life is not fair but there is a difference between ‘not fair’ and mind boggling UNFAIR. I am not narcissistic enough to say that I deserve the privileged life that I have and these other people do not. Why am I able to eat 2ft of meatball sub in one sitting when others go hungry?

Right now across the world people are protesting against the 1%. The 1% of the population that controls a ridiculous amount of the world’s wealth. I wholeheartedly agree with these protests and have signed the London petition, but within the 99% there is a huge percentage of the world that lives below the poverty line. As part of the 99% I feel that it is my duty to give and help those with a lower quality of life and I hope that the 1% feel the same way.
I’d like to define the cliché ‘living below the poverty line’ and what that means on a day to day basis in Nepal. Living below the poverty line literally means living hand to mouth. The definition of the poverty line is earning enough to buy 2200 calories of food a day plus some basic non-food items (like soap); it sits at around $1 a day. Living below this line simply means that some days you go hungry, some you don’t. If the crops don’t grow or you don’t sell anything, you go hungry. If there is another expense, you go hungry. As soon as your children are old enough they work to support the family. If you are sick, you either still go to work, or you go hungry. There are no doctors visits, there are no savings.
They are 25% of Nepal… and they make me look like the 1%. 

So I’m off into the Himalayas, a big thank you again to all those that helped me get here and wish me luck!!

21st Nov 2011