09:41.068S 124:03.366E - I Love You Fatumnasi, Whoopee!
Irene IV - World Adventure
Louis Goor
Sun 25 Sep 2022 22:51
Kupang, the capital, and in fact only city, of West Timor, is a city of many
faces. From our anchorage we see a city with a hotchpotch of concrete,
stilts, and traditional thatch roofs. As we approach the shore, a throng of
men gather to help us land the dinghy, no mean task as the waves crash on
the sand, riddled with rubbish, broken glass, plastic and unidentifiable
guck. The sounds of the city accost our ears. Motorbikes in hoards flood the
streets, along with “bemos”, small buses, decorated with graffiti and
trinkets, blaring rock music. The mosque chants call to prayer at all
mealtimes. The initial impression of the city is of a war zone. It appears
as if the city had been bombed the night before and is recovering! The
buildings are decrepit, crumbling, and often totally gutted, with
disintegrating walls and broken windows, mostly still in use or inhabited.
The streets are potholed and sometimes just dirt tracks. Rickety stalls,
with colorful wares swinging in the wind, are prolific, all selling the same
cheap plastic junk. A visit to the bank atm leads from an inauspicious
façade us to a squeaky-clean foyer, blindingly white and shining. Strangely,
it all has a quaint third world beauty, despite the smog and deafening
racket.
A visit to the vegetable and fruit market was a magnificent banquet of
perfume, color, texture, clamor, and smiles, creating an ambiance of joyful
comradery and industry. By contrast the Hypermarket supermarket was sterile,
so very very clean and characterless.
Last night, 22nd September, the Oyster World Rally fleet celebrated Luke
White’s (from Makara) 18th birthday, at a local upmarket hotel. The pool
(both the wet and the dry kind) cocktail party started with elegant Lychee
Martinis, quickly moving to beers drunk by the neck and fully clad guests
swimming in the wet pool. An endless supply of tequila shots added to the
perceived prowess of the dry pool players.
We welcomed 2 new crew members, whose first experience of the rally was this
rowdy party. Joe O’Flynn, a longtime friend of Louis, and Hedley Butler, a
schoolmate of George’s were christened by fire and came up for air smiling
and asking for more!
Once we received our clearance on Monday 21st from the Indonesian
authorities, a long arduous process, we set off on a full day tour of some
of West Timor’s highlights. We were joined by 3 of the Archaeopteryx crew,
Michael, Jessie, and Nick. The day started at 07:00. We met Charlie and Oni,
our tour guides, and Leo and Ifan, our two drivers by the 999 bar beside the
beach. Having given the beach boys the required 500,000 rupiahs (the
equivalent of US$33) to look after our tenders on the beach for the day, we
drove away on quite an adventure.
Our first stop was Lasiana Village, about 25 kilometers outside the clang of
Kupang. Finally, we took some breaths of clean fresh air! Charlie explained
that palm trees are either male or female. The males carry beans, and the
females bear fruit. The male beans are processed to produce palm sugar. The
sugar is lightly sweet and very delicious. We wandered around the village
and were greeted very warmly, with the customary big smiles by all. The
houses are simple but solid. More traditional buildings have palm thatch
roofs, with an increase in the use of corrugated sheets in some of the newer
homes. Charlie pointed out that the thatch keeps the temperature inside more
uniform and agreeable both in the wet and dry seasons, whereas the
corrugated iron is noisy in the rainy season and boiling hot, necessitating
fans, in the dry season. The village is surrounded by rice paddies. We
stepped out of the cars to see the green rice stems wafting in the wind,
dotted with tiny dragon flies. Colorful streamers warning the birds to stay
away, were suspended from wire lines. The rice plant roots were submerged in
water. It was the first visit to a rice paddy for all of us and we were
charmed. Charlie’s father-in-law motored over on his motorbike to work the
paddies, with machete in hand, ready to slater any tiresome water python
that may wrap itself around his legs. The rice is harvested 3 times a year
but needs constant tending. The grains grown in Timor are either red or
white. We ran our fingers through a tub of freshly picked red rice and
enjoyed the tickling sensation.
We stopped along the way at a little local coffee and tea stand, the coffee
drinkers said the coffee was delicious. Coffee is not grown in Timor but
comes from the island of Flores. We sampled some of the authentic local
sweet treats, mostly rice based with coconut and banana flavors
predominating, all utterly delicious. Again, it was a pleasant surprise to
taste a light sweetness instead of what I expected to be a cloying
sweetness.
On we went to our next port of call, the Sassando luthier. The Sassando is a
harp-like instrument, native to West Timor. It is said to be mirroring the
form and delicacy of a spider’s web. The conical outer casing is fabricated
from palm fronds, it can be opened and closed to increase or decrease the
volume of sound the musician may desire. In the center of the outer casing
is a thick rod made of mahogany wood, periodic studs are attached. Attached
to the rod are up to 36 guitar strings. Each string plays a different note
and can be bent for musical effect or to adjust the tuning. The Sassanado is
played resting on the knee with both hands used to pluck the strings. The
luthier family who run the business come from a long line of craftsmen and
musicians. They are regularly invited all over the world to show case their
instrument and its spellbinding timbre. We are treated to an entrancing
performance in the show room of the business, surrounded by Sassandos of all
sizes and degrees of decoration and photos of famous performers of this
captivating instrument. The musician chooses to electrify his instrument so
that we can reap the full benefit of its angelic sound.
In response, Louis and I ask if we could play a little Irish music, to share
some of our culture. They were delighted. We played a few Irish tunes and
then the Indonesians asked if could we play “I can’t help falling in love
with you” together. It was one of those magical moments, communication
through music, where our separate languages did not serve us nearly as well.
Onwards and upwards, we stopped for a tasty lunch, sampling many authentic
Indonesian dishes. The lavatories provided us all with gymnastic
opportunities, with their hole in the ground construction and a bucket of
water and scoop alongside for flushing purposes!
As we ascended the steep incline, we passed villages, never ending roadside
stalls, rice paddies, forested areas, Mahogany stands, and open vistas. We
peppered Charlie with questions and some in the car took the opportunity to
steal forty winks. We stopped periodically to hand out notebooks and pens to
school children walking home from school. The children replied with big
gleaming smiles and sparkly eyes, and “Teri Ma Casi”, “Thank You” in Bahasa
Indonesia. The school day in West Timor starts at 07:00 and ends at 12:30.
All schools are fee paying. Charlie told us that he had sold one of his cows
in order to send his daughter to high school. Indonesia has a tertiary
system, elementary for 6 years, junior high for 3 years, and high school for
3 years. Each grade level has a different uniform, red and white for
elementary, blue and white for junior high and grey and white for high
school. Some of these children walk 6 kilometers each direction to school
and home every day.
Finally, we arrived at the village of Fatumnasi. As we got closer the
homesteads became more and more traditional, with the iconic beehive shape,
thatched roofs, very low doors, and no windows. The chief, Matheus, and his
wife Yulia were waiting for us in full celebration costume, with their
extended family, children, grandchildren and in laws. The chief had a
mischievous, impish look about him. He spoke at length about the history of
his village and Indonesia, Oni translated. There were jokes, clapping and
laughing! He ended his amusing diatribe with a rousing “I love Fatumnasi,
whoopee!” The chief asked that we send all our friends to visit him, as we
were the first visitors they had seen since Covid began. Hence, we have used
the coordinates for the village of Faumnasi in this blog posting. If you
ever find yourself in this neck of the woods, It is worth the long trek up
the hills. A quest worth risking!
And then there was dancing. We were asked to join in. The villagers all
danced, men, women and children, and some played very basic hand-hewn
guitars. The meeting house was circular with a central pole and platform,
around which we danced. They offered us coffees, teas and sweet treats. We
brought the expected betel nut package as a gift. Betel nut is a natural
hallucinogenic, which is chewed and swallowed, producing lovely red lipped
natural lipstick, and over time rather unattractive rotten, brown teeth
stumps. Jessie and I were presented with beautiful “Ikat” (textile) scarves
dyed and woven by villagers. The meeting house was draped all around the
perimeter with scarves, runners, tablecloths of all sizes, hair bands and
combs, jewelry, and clutch bags. We were invited to take a look and buy what
we fancied. Louis and I bought a tablecloth each, Michael, Jessie and Nick
bought some beautiful items too. There was a lengthy bargaining process,
with long silences, some whispered mutterings, jokes and finally a good deal
was struck! We again shared our music, on the fiddle and the bodhran, and
they were charmed, the chief danced along, and the kids and family tapped on
rhythm sticks that we had handed out for the purpose. We offered the chief,
his wife and 2 of their daughters an eye clinic and some reading glasses
from Sea Mercy. Yulia was particularly delighted, it appeared that her world
suddenly opened up. Louis thanked the chief with Oni translating, for his
warm welcome and his charming personality, on behalf of us all.
The piece de resistance was yet to come! The 80-year-old chief and his not
much younger wife, erected a wide rung ladder outside the meeting house and
climbed up on the roof! They were promptly joined by the children, including
babies, and the rest of the family. Not to be left out, we clambered up too.
The chief led us in several rounds of “I love Fatumnasi, Whoopee!”
We prayed that this ancient building could hold all our combined weight! The
steaming sun finally drove us all down the ladder to safety and shade below.
We gathered our belongings, both old and new, said our lengthy goodbyes, and
headed down the hill for the 4-hour drive back to Kupang. Sleeping was not
an option, as both drivers, Leo and Ifan, were maniacs! At one point we did
ask Ifan to slow down as he sped at 120 kph downhill towards a stationary
truck, with a motor bike hurtling towards us on the other side of the road,
with a gap for our car that left a hair’s space on either side! We are,
miraculously, alive, to tell the tale.
The beautiful, inspiring and enlightening day was only marred by the copious
amounts of rubbish on the roadsides. Even up in the pristine mountains there
were mounds of trash. We watched as our guides threw ice cream wrappers on
the ground where they ate, without a thought. We asked Charlie about the
situation, and he said that this is not a priority for the Indonesian
government, so nobody cares.