Indonesia

though. Peter and Jan had already thought of that. They had engaged a young woman for us, her name was Lisa. She was to help in the house and with the children. But we still needed a cook, and Lisa helped us to find one. She was an elderly lady, and we called her 'Tante', a sign of respect. (Tante means 'aunt' in Indonesian, taken over from the Dutch). We also had to buy a kerosene stove for the kitchen with two burners. The meals Tante created under these primitive conditions were fit for a king. Instead of a table there was a low cutting board with legs on the floor, and a banku or low stool, on which Tante would sit in front of the stove, also on the concrete floor. I had always been fond of Asian food, but what Tante produced was simply exquisite. We were really spoiled by her. Unfortunately, she didn't last long. She found the work too much and had to leave us. Then we spoke to Lisa and asked if she could cook.

"A little bit," she said, "I have never done it before for others (meaning Europeans), but I'm happy to try it."

Lisa's sister was the cook of a German missionary couple. We thought that she could always get some advice from her, but it turned out that she was just too modest. She took to cooking like a fish to water. In no time, under Alison's good guidance, she cooked the most delicious meals. First thing in the morning she would go to the market to buy everything we would need for the day. As our fridge was still to come with our luggage, we couldn't store anything for the next day. So everything had to be consumed by the evening.

Unfortunately, the house was not connected to the town water supply. Most homes without water had someone to roll a 44--gallon drum with water from the nearest well. A student from the college where I was to teach was assigned to do this work for us. His name was Theofilus (Filus for us) Nakmofa, who would live with us. He was a fourth year student at Tarus Theological School. He had been in a spot of trouble and the Rector felt that he would benefit from staying with us.

Tarus was about eleven kilometers from Kupang. Whilst the road was sealed, it was full of potholes. Peter took us all there to meet the students and the Rector, Chris BenoEt. He showed us around and introduced us to the students. I was not quite prepared for what I saw. It really shocked me to see the delapidated state of the buidlings, and the utter poverty of the students' quarters. A stone fence marked the area of the property. Inside the fence was a two storey house with two class rooms on ground level, and a dormitory for students on the first floor. The steps had rotted away, only a very simple ladder was leading to the loft, where some of the students lived.

A bebak house (palm leaf stalks tightly stacked in a single row for the wall and a thatched roof) was the kitchen. A big cauldron was resting on three stones and a rickety table completed the kitchen furniture.

A second brick building was the main dormitory, subdivided into two rooms which contained a large number of double decker bunks.

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