MJ at the marathon

I’m not a big one for openings. Apart from a few plays and that time I was on the first flight of an aeroplane and got a free luggage tag, normally I’m just one of the masses.

Perhaps I’m on the up and up because following on from my opening of a classroom, which involved shots of Cinzano, last week I attended the opening of none other than a toilet block. Well, it was actually two toilet blocks and a water tank. There were little girls in tais beating drums, a pig with its throat cut (I looked the other way) and a Justin Bieber dance routine. And of course copious amounts of very excited hand washing.

I had been to this particular school before, so I was surprised when the kids started calling me MJ. But let’s face it, I only pretend to understand a fraction of what’s going on normally anyway, so I didn’t think it was a big deal. Later it was explained that they had shortened my name to MJ. Of course. My name being ‘Mana Joey’ (mana means older sister).

Smiles in Maliana

Family resemblence: matching mohawks

Back in Dili on the weekend, I got up early to watch a friend do the half marathon. The marathon is a pretty big deal in Dili, with plenty of local and expat runners, marching bands and even cheerleaders. Compared to the hustle bustle and merchandise of Australian sports, this was much more home spun. When the winner of the marathon walks off down the street to catch up with friends, you know it’s not an average sporting event.

Sitting on doorsteps watching the world go by is a favourite Timorese pastime, so it was hard to tell if the sparse crowds at Mercado Lama at 7am in the morning were just doing their normal Saturday morning routine or were diehard marathon enthusiasts. Judging by the lack of cheering (applause is not really a Timorese thing) and the mystified look on their faces, I think the concept of voluntarily running 42km is kind of foreign here. But it’s pretty foreign to me too, so maybe that’s why I felt at home amongst the bemused bystanders.

Gliding in first at Mercado Lama

To cheer or not to cheer?

Returning back to our house, I was greeted by even tinier pigs (seriously, it’s getting ridiculous) and my neighbour standing on his roof singing at the top of his lungs. Just another Saturday in the hood.

Rocking out on the rooftop