YOU KNOW YOU’RE IN TIMOR-LESTE WHEN ...

Story by Ruth Hitchins Photos courtesy Nick Hitchins

You know you’re in Timor-Leste when your 11-year-old son goes to help out the guys clearing the section, and calls out, “Mum, can I use the machete?”

Nick and I, along with our three boys, arrived in Dili, the capital of TimorLeste, in April, in the immediate tragic aftermath of Cyclone Seroja. The subsequent escalation of COVID-19 necessitated a State of Catastrophe being declared. Timor-Leste is very mountainous and reminiscent of parts of New Zealand—except here villages are perched precariously atop razorback ridges! They are very susceptible to being washed away, as recently happened. Access to these remote villages is by foot. MAF has seven airstrips, several of which are in mountainous regions and flying to them is very much at the whim of the weather. Nick has been completing his country-specific training with the Chief Pilot; and is glad for his experience flying light aircraft in New Zealand’s challenging weather and terrain conditions.

Nick’s first flight here involved both the MAF planes: criticallyunderweight triplets were born in the mountains on Mother’s Day, and a lot of medics and family were required to airlift them all safely to Dili! In order to keep flying during Dili’s ongoing lockdown, the two GA8 aircraft here are fitted with COVID-19 protection screens between the cockpit and the rear, and for the increasing number of COVID-positive patients in the districts, pilots must fly fully-garbed in PPE gear. Patients now have to wait longer for medevacs since they have to pass COVID-19 tests before flying! This can delay situations which are already critical. The boys are doing long-distance learning and our days are spent wrestling with the ad hoc internet and power. Their studies are accompanied by the music of the little MAF GA8 planes, full of hope, taking off and landing. We are thankful for our AC unit whenever we hear the planes overhead flying to the remote regions, as we can imagine them roasting in their “suits” with no AC! An AC unit in the planes would take up valuable space and prevent more

Clockwise from left: It’s not all schoolwork for the boys! Local smells and colour. Coconuts at the beach.

essential items like oxygen tanks from being carried aboard. Pilot comfort is a necessary sacrifice! There’s space for the pilot to take four passengers plus the patient on a stretcher. This is always fully maximised by the time paramedic staff from Dili hospital are on board, clinic staff from the villages plus the patient’s family! On the ground, we are assailed with so many smells: acrid overflowing drains, impending rain-storms, 80% deet to fend off prevalent dengue fever, freshly-baked banana bread made with local vanilla, cinnamon and coconut.

Now we are in our new home, we miss the cocktail of languages frequently heard on the compound: Portuguese, Arabic, Tetun, Urdu, French and Mandarin all prevail over English! But we are getting a bit more familiar with some of the vagaries of Tetun Dili, which is a language blend of one of the local Austronesian dialects with Portuguese and Bahasa (Indonesian). In trying to talk with the locals, we enjoy finding occasional similarities between te reo Māori and Tetun, however it really stretches our brains when we shop at the markets in the heat, and don’t know which of the three counting systems will be used! Will the “folin” (price) be calculated in Tetun Dili, Portguese or Bahasa?! You know you’re in Dili when…your children unconsciously whistle Christmas carols in May because they’re so happy and excited with the plethora (their word!) of novel experiences! You know you’re in Dili when… date night with Nick involves driving as-yet unfamiliar roads to a supermarket on the other side of Dili in a torrential tropical storm in the dark, dodging unlit and unpredictable pedestrians, dogs, motorbikes and vehicles. Arriving in a state of heightened tension from all the defensive driving, we walk the aisles made for tiny people to the soothing backdrop of familiar Western love songs dubbed in Indonesian, which I sing along to behind my face-mask. Being a small programme, MAF Timor-Leste is a bit of a family. Although we don’t all live on the same compound as in many other locations, there’s still a great feeling of connectedness. As was obvious last weekend when one of our MAF national staff came over to our house and helped the septic tank guys to locate and excavate the massive rocks that were obstructing our drains! And we have already seen locals get excited when we explain why we are here (since many expats from other organisations have returned home due to COVID-19), who MAF is and why we fly regular medevacs.

MAF has only been active in TimorLeste since 2006, so our profile and presence here has room for expansion. Some experienced doctors from India have been working with MAF on vital network connections at government level, but COVID-19 has been understandably taking centre-stage. We feel so excited and deeply privileged to be part of the programme here, with our own invisible special “cloud of witnesses” right alongside us!