Sumba

18 – 20 April 2009

As I had a couple of days after Steve left before my next dressing was due I took the opportunity to return to Bali via Sumba. I went to the local bus terminal and managed to get a bus to Melolo at 09:15 however it did a couple of circuits of Waingapu picking up passengers before finally setting off at 09:55. The trip took 90 minutes, having many stops to pick up and put down passengers. If you wanted a bus you left some luggage/sack at the side of the road and then went and sat in some shade. When you were approaching where you wanted to get off you just called up the bus. Money for the trip 10,000 Rp was then passed up the bus to the driver. Stupidly I used a copy of The Lonely Planet that was about 12 years old so when I got to Melolo I discovered the losmen – a supplier of basic accommodation - had been closed for several years. There was a family in the village where the husband speaks some English and will take in visitors he was not at home but the family rang him and we agreed a price of 30,000 Rp a day for my stay, what I did not appreciate at the time was that this was for full board; an amazing bargain. I was very grateful for my Bahasa Indonesian – even though it was limited as it allowed me to communicate with the family.
The next day a neighbour and his motorbike were hired to take me to three local traditional ikat weaving villages. There are big communal houses with interesting front steps – buffalo skulls. The village elders are buried under very elaborate graves. I was advised to take sirih to give to the village heads. This is betel nut, a catkin and lime which is chewed. It causes the production of copious quantities of saliva which it stains red – the saliva is then spat out. It has a bitter taste and is very granular; apparently it has a stimulant effect. Long term use grinds the teeth away and older people can be seen grinding the ingredients in pestle and mortars before popping the mush into their mouths. In each village I was offered some to chew and managed to take without actually having to consume it in all but one of the villages. I found it as disgusting as it looks.

On my final morning in Melolo I was waiting for a bus on the main road when one of the stall holders engaged me in conversation and tried to get me to go by ojek as it might be a long wait for the next bus – I declined, an hour plus on the back of a bike with my rucksack was not appealing. Then one of her sons arrived in his lorry and she persuaded him to take me – little did I know he had his assistant in the cab and had already arranged to pick someone else up as well. It was rather cosy in the cab but at least it meant we were not thrown around as much. I thought the lorry would be quicker than the bus but in the same way it stopped to pick up passengers – but only those with a lot of luggage and they and the luggage got into the back.