The rainbow never sets

Kupang had changed, so it was almost unrecognisable. There were so many new buildings, especially the former barren areas between the old town and the airport, where formerly only rocks seemed to be able to grow. This area had changed into a completely new suburb. There were hundreds of bemos (mini vans for passengers) going up and down the streets, competing for passengers. No one seemed to be walking any more. Electricity was available 24 hours a day. They even had a supermarket which sold lots of goods, which were unavailable in our days.

Lasiana beach, our favourite swimming beach, had also been developed. Instead of the quiet and sleepy village, they had built a proper tourist resort there.

But by far the best thing was to meet many of my former students again. Some of them occupied important positions at the Synod office; Sam Nitti was Treasurer, Zacha and Filus heading the evangelism department, and Mes in charge of the Study and Research department, working together with John Barr, the Australian fraternal worker at the time.

Frans Balla had received a scholarship from Princeton University in the USA to complete his doctoral degree. We came just in time to be at his farewell. He reminded us that he entered Tarus theological school with one pair of borrowed trousers. My mind flashed back to one afternoon when we were on our way to Lasiana beach with the family. He had asked for a ride with us to Tarus. From then on he had come often with us and had stayed many times at the LOSMEN BAHAGIA, our little shed in the back yard. His farewell became an evening full of memories for us. Zarus was also there with his guitar. Unfortunately, he is one of our former students who had not succeeded. He had five children and left the ministry to teach religion at high schools. He looked unhappy. They sang our old favourite songs from our days in Oeba. Zarus even re-tuned his guitar, as he had done so often for us, and played it like a Sasandu, a traditional Rotinese string instrument. It was an emotional time for us, and tears came into my eyes when I thought of those happy years gone by.

Some of our students had become Presbytery chairmen. Agabus, who was still in Rote, was one of them. He came with some rice for us and invited us to visit him in Rote. We could catch the ferry, he said, but only when the weather was good.

"Why don't you come by MERPATI?" he asked. "It would cost a lot of money," I said. Undeterred he answered philosophically: "Friendship is always costly." Yes, indeed, Agabus, but thank God it is also something that can never be bought with money. Such friendship and love is eternal. When we arrived at the airport on the island of Rote, there was no one to meet us. The plane seemed to have left us in the middle of nowhere, just a simple shed for shade. We waited there for quite a while, not knowing what to do. Then we heard a motorbike approaching. Seeing us there, the driver

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