YA LEUM 33 — The man from Timor who made a better person
In last week’s post we have experienced the slow life of living in an island for two weeks…
Fifteen days went by on this island that lives in the crater of a volcano.
I had finally stopped. One of the great goals of this trip.
Traveling is a constant dilemma. We are always divided between stopping and continuing.
If, on one hand, we want to discover the entire world, on the other hand, we want to feel the depths of each place.
This time, we had no choice. I had to recover my injured knee. Not having a choice, made me relax and accept the decision that we would stay in a single place for so long.
The days were quite similar but that was the ideal scenario to truly enjoy that place.
My mind was freer and, thus, more focused.
Aiming for nothing is one of my favorite activities in this busy life. One must find the comfort and pleasure of doing nothing. After all, that’s exactly where the most beautiful ideas, poetries, and thoughts take shape as if they were waiting for their space to be born.
These days were exactly like that. In the company of Mathieu, we had much time to enjoy the art of nothingness and let the slow living lifestyle take the reins of our days.
During the last days, as I got better, we got on our motorcycle and drove around a part of the island.
We took the usual kit, the tent, and the stove. We were going in no specific direction, nor did we have anything specific to see.
The island of Samosir is full of whimsical landscapes, Batak culture, mountains, and slopes, and peacefulness that crosses the rice fields, the places, and the small mountains.
The motorcycle ride is almost always one of the biggest highlights of these trips. There’s a feeling of freedom, awareness, and happiness that comes with the wind blowing our hair and a helmet that rarely is my size.
On the first day, we planned to do as many KMs as possible.
It was getting darker and, on our way, we found an improved stop for heavy goods vehicles.
There was just a stand where a man was selling coffee and some snacks. Next to the stand, there was a covered area with tables, in front of which it was possible to see the parked trucks and their owners.
We decided to stop, hoping to have dinner… but, apparently, the stand owner was not selling food.
He didn’t speak English neither but one of the truck drivers translated a few words for us.
The owner of the stall was having his dinner time and ended up offering his dinner. They made a small fire to heat us and we stayed there, talking.
With the help from the truck drivers, and especially from google translate, the owner of the stand told us his story.
He was born in Timor but he went to Indonesia when he was quite young, looking for a job. He only knew an aunt there, who, meanwhile, passed away. He never got married and has no children. Today, he owns a support point for truck drivers, which was requested by the municipality — the place where we met him.
I don’t know if it is because my family grew in Timor or due to how nicely he treated us from the moment we parked our motorcycle… Yet, I can say that this man, Jahalong Sihite, got my attention. He was lonely, a cheerful man… but yet he had a sad look… An apparently insignificant man but with a universe of stories to share with us.
I sat next to him to understand him since no matter how many questions I made, there were never enough answers. We took hours to communicate but my curiosity to get to know him made it worth every minute.
The stand that served coffee was also his home. There was a small TV, a stove, and a bed. He offered what he could from the things he had inside: tea, coffee, cookies, bananas, and noodles. We talked until it was time to sleep. When we all went to bed, he rapidly offered to put up our tent, protecting us from the cold and the wind of that night.
The next morning, we had have breakfast and a nice morning coffee with Jahalong but we had to continue our trip… it was bittersweet to say goodbye to this man who felt more familiar to me than many of my friends.
Sometimes I still remember him. Quite often, actually.
Because of him, I also became a different person: humbler and more attentive.
On that day, we went directly to another city. When we arrived, there was some movement, which was always positive, since the island seemed a little empty… We found a nice place to camp that night. Yet, to get there, we had to use a ramp that was still wet from the previous night.
We arrived at an open land on the top of a hill and we found the place to set up our tent.
We decided to go back to the city to eat somewhere but when we were going down the steep slope, the motorcycle slipped and we fell.
I was really scared because Mathieu was beneath the motorcycle. A local person saw what happened and immediately came to help us. Thankfully, the bruises were not serious, just a few scrapes and skin burn on my leg.
We went back later to get the tent but I decided to climb the hill walking…
On the next day, we visited some hot springs with water that came directly from under the volcano! It was so hot! I was as quick getting in as I was getting out, I couldn’t handle the heat for long… but there was a pool nearby.
A pool for men and another for women. When we entered, it was empty but soon after another group of women arrived. They were curious about me because, once again, I had a western look. As it is already common, they all wanted to talk to me and take photo. Yet, there was a moment in which I felt quite uncomfortable because some of them were too close…
I went to the showers to call Mathieu, who told me the same thing: the group of men who came with them was making him feel uncomfortable too.
They were always nice but they were so many… we ended up leaving the pool, and met outside at the coffee place. There, with more clothes and more comfortable, they told us about their tour.
Our last stop was close to the initial starting point, the most touristic place on the island. We visited the typical houses from the Batak culture and took the opportunity to ask the security guard if he knew somewhere where we could set up the tent… most people always seem to think it is quite a strange question but that doesn’t prevent them from helping us.
He promptly asked his colleague if he knew where we could stop with our tent, to which he replied: “Why? They can sleep inside one of the houses! Show them!”
Owww! That was such a special experience! Batak houses have a special design, completely made out of wood, with a boat shape, a pointed roof, and dwarf-sized doors.
We couldn’t believe how lucky we were! These houses are still inhabited by many native people from the islands and only a few are available for tourists. The house where we spent the night belonged to a local person but who was not using the space!
Once again, it was as if one or many stars were traveling with us.
We got to the end of 15 days on the island. The people we met made that place unforgettable.
We will get back there one day, to return the friendship, the smiles, and the generosity of the people of Lake Toba.
October 2017,
Patricia Assis
