Sliding right back into the Oecusse lifestyle

A month in Dili presents a great contrast to the situation I now find myself. I’m sitting on our Oecusse veranda after an overnight ferry ride and the only things I can hear are lapping waves, a little family of chirping birds and my fingers tapping on the keyboard. It’s absolutely beautiful.

Getting off the ferry this morning wasn’t quite so peaceful. Being a seasoned traveller on the Nakroma, I have learnt that it takes approximately half an hour for the crowd to clear the lower decks, so if you’re too eager and leave your air-conditioned quarters on the top deck too early, you end up just standing in a crowd, queuing down the steep stairs, getting all hot and frustrated.

After waiting in my cabin until well after the horn had sounded to indicate that we’d arrived safely in Oecusse, I made my way freely down the stairs, satisfied with my timing, only to find that the lower deck was still full of people. This was unusual, because people usually push past each other trying to get off as soon as the doors open and the ramp is lowered. So, I pushed past everyone and eventually got to the front and I discovered the reason for the hold up.

The ferry’s ramp was lowered, not onto the corresponding ramp on-shore, but into the water about four metres from the shore. There was a channel of water about hip-height rushing between the two ramps, moving with the tide. Two men were holding onto a wooden board in order to make a bridge for people to walk across, but the tide was so high that this board was also submerged in water, so every time a tide surge came through, the men would have to hold it down to stop it from floating away WHILE THE PEOPLE WERE TRYING TO CROSS IT.

Added to this was the fact that the ferry’s door was lowered at an angle more than 45 degrees, so it was incredibly slippery and very steep.

I stood there watching in disbelief at the fact that some people were still attempting to get off the boat (and back onto it again – as it is common practice for young men to run on and off the boat unloading all sorts of supplies from Dili, including sacks of rice, bundles of clothing, gallons of water, boxes of 2-minute noodles, cooking oil, slabs of beer and coca-cola, chickens, roosters, goats, pigs, cows, buffaloes, building materials, sacks of cement, ceramic tiles, firewood, poles of bamboo, TVs, DVD players, beds, chairs, cupboards – almost all of such goods carried on top of heads or shoulders). I looked behind me and saw four men approaching, carrying a motorbike, like pall bearers carrying a coffin. They proceeded to walk it down the unbelievably steep ramp. Once they got to the bottom, they couldn’t seem to make their way onto the wooden plank because there were too many other people crowding around, trying to get on it. One of the many bystanders on the shore (completely oblivious to the role he was playing in blocking the way) indicated to the four men carrying the bike that they should bypass the bridge all together, and just wade through the water and onto the sand. So, they did! They entered the perilous, waist-deep swell, motorbike-on-shoulders and struggled their way through the waves onto the beach.

I decided I needed to get out of this dire situation and try to get off. I de-thonged and started to make my way down the steep, slippery ramp. The ramp has two, metal-ridged columns which allow some grip for the feet, but on either side of these columns, it’s just smooth metal. I stuck to the ridges. Two impatient men decided to overtake me on the smooth part of the ramp, both of them carrying massive sacks of rice on their heads. Completely and utterly unsurprisingly, the second man slipped, and, in perfect slapstick fashion, careered straight into the legs of the first man, knocking him off his feet. Both men and both sacks of rice fell into the water. The first man, after regaining his composure, gave the second man the biggest death-stare, as the crowd howled with laughter.

I eventually managed to get off without any trouble, but not without much head-shaking and tut-tutting at the lack of concern for OH&S.

This picture was taken a couple of weeks after the event in this story. While the problem with the boat ramps was still not fixed, note the canoe - possibly one of the shortest boat rides in Timor. I think the new, improved steel "bridge" that you can see being hauled in at the top of the picture might have been overkill though. Also note the many observers standing around, adding nothing to the experience but inconvenience.