We've spent the last few nights of our time in Sumba in the fishing village of Pero. It's on the very Western tip of the island - there's no land between here and Africa.
The village itself is set on either side of a single road that leads directly to the ocean. The houses are a mixture of bamboo or stone. My favorite time of day here is the early evening, when I can walk down to the sea and watch the fishermen prepare their boats for the nights fishing. The main catch here is cumi-cumi (squid). They use bright lanterns, which make the horizon look like a floating city when the sun has set.
We have been staying at a small 'Homestay' a short walk from the ocean. The outdoor mandi (tub of water with a bucket that you use to scoop water over yourself) is refreshed daily with water from the well, and most recently with rain water. Electricity is available in the evenings, when the whole town seems to watch the same TV channel.
On our last night there was no power, so Michael and I were in bed reading by flashlight. We heard voices shouting. Initially it sounded like a party, but I remember the moment when Michael and I looked at each other as we both realized that people were screaming. We were out from under our mosquito nets quickly. Michael ran to the front door to see what was going on. People were running up the road shouting and screaming. I frantically pulled on my sneakers and we headed out the door - ready to run.
The house immediately next door was engulfed in flames. The smoke was black and I was left in shock at how quickly the fire started, consumed the contents of a house, and was then put out by the neighbours with buckets of water. Luckily the house was of the brick variety. If it had been one of the bamboo ones, it would have burned to the ground.
There's no fire brigade & no home insurance. It makes you think about what it means to lose everything.
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