Ministry in Australia

turned around and went straight back from where he came. We sat there wondering what to do next.

After what seemed ages, two motorbikes arrived, one for each of us. Holding on to our bags and the drivers in front, they took us to Agabus' home. As he was out we were met by his wife, who immediately sent her eldest son to fetch him. He soon arrived, and embraced us both warmly. It felt like only yesterday, when he had taken me in his strong arms, consoling me all the way to the plane more than fourteen years ago.

When Agabus showed me some descendants of the chickens he had raised at Tarus, I couldn't believe my eyes. They looked strong and were laying much bigger eggs than ordinary village chickens. He had crossed them with the local breed and had obtained an excellent result.

The following day, Agabus wanted me to do nine baptisms, which he had especially saved up for me.

"But Agabus, I didn't bring any tie, any clothes to officiate. I can't go just in my thongs and open neck shirt?"

"We'll fix that," he said. Luckily he was tall, almost as tall as I am. He let me have his Geneva gown (good for Geneva, but far too hot for Rote), and shoes, so there was no excuse left. We were invited to two of the baptism families for lunch. It was a bit of a rush, as we were booked on the plane back to Kupang that afternoon, but we still had to eat at both places. You can't offend your hosts!

Of course we had to visit Piaklain on Semau, where Mes' mother still lived. His father had died a year earlier. The change in that village was unbelievable. All homes were lined up in neat rows with fenced gardens along an unpaved road. One could walk on this road without getting lost.

Mes' family had waited for our return with a traditional ceremony, where families give thanks that the year's mourning was over. All the village boys from yesteryear had grown into men and most of them had moved away, as there was no work on Semau. There was still no jetty at Piaklain, and we still had to scramble over rocks and mud as before, and the short people were getting quite wet again. There are some things that don't change!

Mes also took us on a day trip to SoE. It was less than four hours there and back, and I couldn't help remembering the 19 hours it had taken us one way, with seven punctures. Yes, this trip was nostalgic, and it was nice to remember all the good things we had experienced there. The congregation in Soe had built a new church with seating for 1500, but even that was not enough. They had to have three services each Sunday to fit them all in. The pulpit was in the shape of a mountain, symbolising the Sermon on the Mount, no doubt.

In Kupang we met a person whose conscience was burdened by what he had observed about the war in East Timor. He came to visit us especially to tell us about it. When the Indonesian army invaded there in 1975, he had

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