Sayin "Yes" to Gangstas Paradise

I'd been talking to my Secret Asian spawn lately about  the need to say yes to things. Resisting the urge to pull back or turn down offers, just because initially they seem uninteresting or frightening or foreign.

Pull back is what I'd done when a nurse in Timor Leste asked me along to her choir practice.  

Choir? No thanks. I'll keep it between me and my bar of soap if it's all the same to you.

But then I thought maybe I should practice what I preach. I wasn't going to do much of anything other than eat, sit and go to sleep, anyway

So, I said "yes".

I said "yes" to a choir of mostly expats that rents out a hotel meeting room and sings once a week.  It's not gospel and no one strives for perfection, though they made it to the semi finals of a local competition. It's just a guy and his keyboard and a bunch of sheet music and 15-30 folks.  It's pretty democratic.  There is some structure, but people seem to just yell out songs to sing and if there is enough agreement, that is what they sing.

We started out with a new rendition of "Let it Be" which improved after 4 or 5 tries.

While we were finishing up a man strolled in with 6 or 7 Timorese guys. They were milling about when some one said, alright it's time for “Gangstas Paradise”.

Apparently the late-comer is leaving the choir and tradition holds that when you leave you get to pick a song to sing.

He also volunteers to teach English to the locals. Since they were young guys he'd been working with them on the lyrics to “Gangstas Paradise” and asked them to come work with the choir on it. They were also going to translate the rap lyrics into the local Tetun language.

So, we all reviewed our parts and after a few false starts put together a pretty rocking rendition.  Or at least as rocking as an acapella group of middle aged expats and a non-native speaking Timorese could be.  It was musical melting pot. There was video taken and I’d hoped to have it to post for you , but alas it hasn’t come through yet. I really wish I could see the final performance at a local bar in a few weeks time.

In addition to some friendly acquaintances, I found myself invited along to a book club and hiking group.  And all this because I said ‘yes’ at a point where I’d usually say,  ‘thanks, but no’.  

CrocoDili

Back to Timor Leste for a visit. This was my third time there.

I met with an expat therapist who sees primarily foreigners, but some locals often around the issue of trauma and loss. She passed on that in addition to feeling typical grief, she often has to,help them with the community’s perception of them.

If a Timorese suffers something bad, yes, they may feel guilty, but they also have to deal with what their neighbors think.  The communities are close and the general feeling is, if something bad happens, it is because you deserved it.  Your spouse is cheating? Maybe you took money from the till. Lose a child? Children are still too pure, so it must be something you did as a parent.

The country is 95% Catholic, but this sort of reap-what-you-sow, primitive mentality runs older and deeper into the realm of fatalistic animism.

Large saltwater crocodiles ply the waters between Australia and Timor Leste.  Mostly they hang around the sparser populated south coast, but not uncommonly they're spotted on the north near the capital.

The crocs are seen as the arbiter of God's law here.  A few times a week the local papers write about a child who didn't come home after swimming, or a fisherman snatched from his boat by a croc.  

Afterwards the community cluck-clucks and wonders about the victim or the survivors whose only sin may have been they let a child swim in crocodile infested waters.

But, it keeps people in line. People say, "I've lived with a pure heart. I’ve got nothing to hide. I can fish without a problem, or I'll let God decide if what I've done was bad enough and they swim or fish regardless of the news article they just read.

“If the crocodile comes, it won't come for me.”

Rum and Coke Reprise

Sitting in the Esplanada hotel. Realizing that it could be one of my favorite places on earth.  There is a constant sea breeze, good food, a stream of interesting people and often live music.

Long time readers may remember my fawning over this place a year ago, but my trials at getting a rum and coke.  If you don't you can read about it here.

This year I was in the same mood. There was a band playing some great cover tunes.  I thought I'd try again.  Maybe to see if they'd remembered anything.  I called the staff over and asked for a rum and coke.

“What kind of rum would you like, Bacardi or Bundaberg?”

Hmmm. This was promising! The place may be stepping up! I chose the latter.

I was sitting with a view behind the bar, so I could see what happened. I watched her go and pour a shot of rum and pull a can of coke out of the fridge and put them both on a tray.  She told the other bartender to ring up what she was making. The other woman snapped something like, “serve it with ice!”, because the first bartender went and got a glass of ice. And put it on the tray.  

Then the second bartender barked, “serve them together!”  The first bartender got a third glass and dumped them all together and brought it to me.  Success!