Presents
Even though Teluk Dalam is not really the poorest area of Nias, our friends don’t have much materially but they still managed to give us endless gifts, usually random bits of jewellery and such. Two presents, however, really stick in my mind…
On our last evening at cell group they gave the three of us matching shirts, the same pattern in different colours. Mine was bright pink with yellow trim and 3 huge yellow flowers on the front with big plastic bling centres. It has to be seen to be believed. Jade’s was white with black trim, possibly the easiest on the eye, and Reba’s was all Christmassy in red and green trim. Not only did we have to look really excited by these, we had to put them on and have about a million pictures taken with various members of cell group. Plus they insisted that we leave a copy of those photos with them so they could always remember them…!! I haven’t worn that shade of fushia pink EVER in my life, despite futile attempts by Tessa at uni. Trust the Indonesians, hey?!
We were in the village on our way to pray for our man with the paralysed legs, and my friend Tipan gave me the most beautiful Cowrie shell I have seen in a long time… it was black freckled and really shiny. I totally wasn’t expecting anything, let alone something so lovely, and was quite taken aback at first. Then I turned it over only to discover that there was still an animal inside!! Ummm, Tip…!!
Confusion ensued as I tried desperately to suss out what Tipan really expected me to do with a live slug in a shell – suggestions from the Indonesians were to eat it (I don’t think so!), to leave it until it smelled (I think that meant to wait until it died), to take it away with me in my pocket, or in a bottle of water… they didn’t really understand the concept of not taking live animals out of the country. All the time I was trying to explain that these options were completely impractical, I was acutely aware that Tipan had given me a gift to remember him and was so unsure as to how any rejection of the shell would cause offence to him. In the end I agreed to clean the shell once the creature had died (despite actually wanting to leave it in the nearest rock pool) but when I looked for it in the hole I buried it in (so as not to stink out our bedroom) it had mysteriously disappeared.
On our last evening at cell group they gave the three of us matching shirts, the same pattern in different colours. Mine was bright pink with yellow trim and 3 huge yellow flowers on the front with big plastic bling centres. It has to be seen to be believed. Jade’s was white with black trim, possibly the easiest on the eye, and Reba’s was all Christmassy in red and green trim. Not only did we have to look really excited by these, we had to put them on and have about a million pictures taken with various members of cell group. Plus they insisted that we leave a copy of those photos with them so they could always remember them…!! I haven’t worn that shade of fushia pink EVER in my life, despite futile attempts by Tessa at uni. Trust the Indonesians, hey?!
We were in the village on our way to pray for our man with the paralysed legs, and my friend Tipan gave me the most beautiful Cowrie shell I have seen in a long time… it was black freckled and really shiny. I totally wasn’t expecting anything, let alone something so lovely, and was quite taken aback at first. Then I turned it over only to discover that there was still an animal inside!! Ummm, Tip…!!
Confusion ensued as I tried desperately to suss out what Tipan really expected me to do with a live slug in a shell – suggestions from the Indonesians were to eat it (I don’t think so!), to leave it until it smelled (I think that meant to wait until it died), to take it away with me in my pocket, or in a bottle of water… they didn’t really understand the concept of not taking live animals out of the country. All the time I was trying to explain that these options were completely impractical, I was acutely aware that Tipan had given me a gift to remember him and was so unsure as to how any rejection of the shell would cause offence to him. In the end I agreed to clean the shell once the creature had died (despite actually wanting to leave it in the nearest rock pool) but when I looked for it in the hole I buried it in (so as not to stink out our bedroom) it had mysteriously disappeared.
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