Captain Budi Soehardi, a Singapore based pilot, on a relief drop in 1999 came across some of the smallest sufferers of the Timor conflict. The Orphans! Beyond the call of duty and even that of his already altruistic voyage, he felt responsible for the wellbeing of these young lives.
1859, Holland and Portugal sign a treaty. The treaty is amended in the late 1800’s.
In 1520, the Portuguese claimed West Timor and in 1640, she was settled by the Dutch East India Company. When the Company collapsed in the late 1700’s, West Timor is returned to Dutch rule. 1914 and the border between East and West Timor is finalized. It’s a small and historically eventful part of Timor Island, conquered by the Japanese in early 1942 and upon Indonesian independence became part of the new Republic of Indonesia.
Some of the nearly two million inhabitants of Kupang, West Timor’s largest town, are refugees from East Timor. Two thirds of the population is Catholic, some thirty percent Protestant and the remaining minority, Muslim. Very little hark back to Dutch or even Portuguese tenet and familiarity with Dutch is an ability which remained with the older generation. The national language is Indonesian although many inhabitants speak native languages.
Eleven years after Budi’s relief drop and his first encounter with a hand-full of the conflict’s victims and the family at Roslin Home in Kupang, is nearly 80 orphans strong!
Many of the orphans arrived at Roslin, only a couple of hours old and they know only this life. Budi and Peggy became papa and mama to these vulnerable kids, parents who dedicate their whole existence taking care of their 80 children.
We first learnt about Roslin and the orphans when my brother met Budi and Peggy’s older daughter in Singapore a couple of years ago.
We wanted to visit Roslin and felt excited about the journey to Kupang and meeting the orphans. In the days leading up to our trip, vivid images and anticipated moments kept playing out in my mind. I felt somewhat emotional, yet animated!
A short flight from Singapore took us to Jakarta and we spent the night. Jakarta, even though very familiar to me, had me staring out the window, gazing, absorbing and sucking it all up as if it was the first time I’ve seen any of her.
An incredible itch and an army of mosquitoes buzzing, to I think it was “another one bites the dust”, woke me and kept me in a state of semi-unconsciousness throughout the night. Arms and legs propelled involuntarily, just short of a successful lift-off and it felt like we found ourselves in a mosquito concentration camp, being kept awake and tortured. The skin on my arms and legs felt like an essay in brail.
The morning’s sweet tea without milk was warm and my thirst saw the bottom of the cup in seconds.
An early morning flight via Surabaya took us to Kupang. Albeit being West Timor’s largest town, she quite strikes me as a one-horse town or rather a “one 5m long conveyer belt town”. Passengers seemed accustomed to the airport’s shortcomings, congregating at the end of the 5m belt’s sudden end … a drop, literally!
A mutilated, three wheel luggage trolley (one of only 4 at the airport) begged for an oil transfusion and a wheel and handle donor. It barely held up the 30 meters from the conveyer belt to the carpark.
We meet Joel, an 18month old orphan. He’s all smiles with his big eyes and light brown curly hair and this friendly baby immediately transcends in my mind to a little angel.
It’s a short drive from the airport to the hotel Christati, which Budi and Peggy had built to accommodate visitors and all proceeds from the hotel is for Roslin’s benefit.
Around the corner from Christati is Roslin and it took us only a few minutes to reach the home. The outside veranda, full of little tables and chairs and small people, in the middle of their Bible lesson was our first introduction to Roslin Home.
They seemed genuinely excited and those first few moments, left me feeling humbled to the core. Often, throughout our stay I felt incredible gratitude! Each time little voices in accord, worshipped Jesus, expressing appreciation for everything they have, I felt my body shake, fighting the impending waterworks. My futile efforts often compelled me to walk away, giving in, as my soul wept.
Even though the Roslin family is a big family and inimitable in every way, the hustle and bustle of everyday life at Roslin, resembles that of a typical family in many ways.
How I anticipated this moment to be, meeting these orphans for the first time felt so different from what I had expected. Roslin is a home, not an orphanage. Whilst looking at the noticeably happy kids, I couldn’t begin to imagine what it took for these pious individuals who gave up their own lives to ensure that a loving home became an everyday reality for so many innocent kids.
The poignant first moments at Roslin and the instant humbleness I felt, will remain edged in my mind.
Reference : Dates researched : Indonesia Travel Guide & Wikipedia
3 comments:
Daisy, all i can say is this - this is a great blog on the Timor Children. You have given me great insight into this orphanage which you so aptly describe from your visit and experience there as a "HOME" and is very much like a typical family.
You are able to see it that way only because you opened your heart to them with unselfish love.
May God bless you and empower you to continually reach out to the most disadvantaged & underprivileged of society for therein lies life's greatest fulfilment.
When you give to others, it is you who really truly live!
Love:
Catherine
reading through this brought back some memories from our trip, the heart warming journey will forever stay with me!!!
very well written and perfectly captured!!!
Sjoe amper huil ek. Don't know if from laughter or the sadness. I love your story.
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