Full circle

Of course my last trip to the districts was always going to be to Maliana, my favourite far flung outpost. Maliana is the kind of incredible place where eating lunch becomes an exercise in anxiety control. One moment you’re wondering how much MSG one person can consume before displaying serious side-effects, the next you’re surrounded by military personnel casually holding semi-automatic machine guns the size of small children. It’s hard not to be intimidated in the presence of light artillery. But it was very pleasing to see them put the guns on the ground while washing their hands before lunch.

 

My final district jaunt featured the usual things – being swamped by children, looking at wells and toilets, asking questions about wells and toilets, running out of questions to ask about wells and toilets. The experience of having 20 pre-school children stroke my skin and hair made me feel like some kind of albino Shetland pony at a petting zoo, but their intentions were good. I think.

 

'Looks like a good'un.'

 

Trying not to freak out during peak hour at the petting zoo

 

It was lovely to be in the female majority on a work trip for once (and I mean that – ONCE), which meant that instead of staying up late drinking beer, we swapped photos of children/nephews/nieces instead. My new colleague is also an absolute gun at English and says things like ‘nighty-night’ which pleased me no end.

 

Returning home to Dili, I was greeted by Mumma Pig. And by greeted I mean she gave me a haughty look as if to say ‘welcome to what used to be your driveway but it is now my personal fiefdom’. Now that I have a year of pig observations under my belt, I’m practically the Jane Goodall of porcine behaviour.

 

This pig was moody. She was aggressive. She was glaring people down like Julie Bishop in a parliament throwdown. She even charged at one of the teen piggies and squashed him against the gate and was looking like she’d love nothing more than to do the same to me. Her belly had the kind of jelly-like appearance that only comes with a sac full of piggy foetuses waiting to enter the world. It was clear she was suffering from some pre-natal tension.

 

And indeed by 6am the next morning there were 9 little piggies holed up next to our front gate. Now these are officially the smallest I have ever seen. You can imagine my response – high voice and compulsion to take lots of photos. Right after I took the below photo I was charged at by Mumma Pig but I survived unscathed.

 

First morning in the world

 

In other news, there is no petrol in Dili. Theories abound as to why, the best one I have heard yet being that we are part of a huge social experiment as to what happens when you cut off fuel to an entire country. Great. The Bubble is already out of petrol so I’m back to schlepping on the streets and having awkward conversations with taxi drivers about why I’m not married. And that's a full circle.