Day 16 in Timor Leste

R got the phone call that our swabs were confirmed negative for COVID19 halfway through a meeting about education. I muted the zoom call and struggled to focus on the discussion with one ear while straining to filter Tetun with the other. After the zoom call, we gulped down dinner, put on walking clothes and scampered out for a 4km walk along the beach.

It has been an almost idyllic couple of weeks in quarantine. We would wake, have breakfast, study, do some remote work for MT, eat, and repeat. We'd watch Tetun TV. Raj would do pull ups on the balcony door frame. The scrawny calico we've named Jael (she likes milk) would appear at the balcony with polite (but assertive) miaows.
I took 5 classes in Tetun this week. Too early to say if I'm ready for conversation with people who are not language teachers. But I would end the lessons with my heart pounding and generally dance around the house for 5 minutes hooting with joy. (Language classes have this effect on me, which is extraordinary because I never felt like this after Chinese tuition. Context, context is everything)

That's it for now. The next post will be hopefully from our next (volunteer housing) accomodation.

Comments

Eeny, Meeny, Miney, and Mo.

Raj and I have, for the last few years, been going through assisted reproductive technology. Unsuccessfully. Today I confirmed that the last of our 4 embryos (Eeny, Meeny, Miney and Mo- had I presence of mind I would have called them maggie and millie and molly and may ) didn't make it after implantation. We're done with this process. We are grateful for the technology and the access we have to IVF as Singaporeans. And we're sad. Sad is too short a word, but it's also an appropriate word, the sigh lisping out at the start, the little exhale in the vowel curling up in the back of your throat like a hurt animal, and the downward pitch of the last closed syllable. Now you can read on if you are thinking "how is Lois making sense of this?" and "how can I be helpful to her?" I caution that if you're processing your own loss, infertility, grief or gender identity, my reflections may not be the most helpful thing for you to read for you right now. I wi...

FAQ for a leaving clinical director

Maluk Timor welcomes our new Executive Director Mrs Dillyana Ximenes in a couple of weeks. And the questions come... Why are you leaving? Because I have done what I can in 4.5 years, and it's time to hand over to a team that can carry our work forward. We arrived in Sept 2020, and have watched our team grow over the years from a scrappy little start-up to a scrappy little scale-up. We're leaving not because things are bad, but because things are good. Are you leaving because you fought with someone/did something wrong/got fired? No. See previous point and next point. When did you make this decision? The day we came to Timor, actually. Always start with an exit plan. We have always been looking for leadership that can take the team forward. We talked about it again seriously in July 2024 with our team. Are you sorry to leave Maluk Timor? Yes. Very. Raj and I have spent more of our married lives in Maluk Timor than in any other place. Some of my happiest memories are dancing ...

Being looked in the eye

We've met half a dozen times I know your name, I know you don't know mine But I won't hold that against you You come here every Friday night I take your order and try to be polite And hide what I've been going through If you looked me right in the eye Would you see the pain deep inside Would you take the time to Tell me what I need to hear Tell me that I'm not forgotten Show me there's a God Who can be more than all I've ever wanted 'Cause right now I need a little hope I need to know that I'm not alone Maybe God is calling you tonight To tell me something that might save my life - Sidewalk Prophets, Save My Life The older I get, the more thankful I am to have people in my life who can look me in the eye, and not be afraid of what they might see.

Raj and Lois in Timor

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