On The Way To Rote

Summer fieldwork is always exiting for every candidate geologist from Brigham Young University. As they visited new exotic places to reveal the mystery of the earth, they dreamed of new experiences that would follow. I was the one of them. I went to the Eastern part of Indonesia, Rote Island, the one that considered the closest Island to the plate boundary, according to plate tectonic theory, and the one that come up to the surface when the Australian continent collided with Banda arc millions years ago.

It takes extra effort and great desire to reach this place from Provo. If my calculation is right, I spent thirty hours on the airplane from Salt Lake City to Kupang, the nearest city to Rote Island, and the biggest city on Timor Island. It took all of my energy and sent me to a long deep sleep in the Crystal Hotel, waiting for the sun and new energy to arise.

Considering that the pioneer flight runs only once a week, I decided to use the ferry. A cab driver took me from the hotel to Bolok, the ferry port, which is located about twenty miles away to the south of Kupang.

At six o’clock in the morning, Bolok port was crowded with hundreds of people. They came from the surrounding areas by renting a vehicle or using a cab, just like I did, that cost three dollars at a maximum.

Every vehicle that enters the port has to pay thirty cents as parking fee. At the gate three young men handle that job. One man opens the gate; another man gives the ticket and the other man takes the money. That’s how they share an easy job for a small amount of money in a harmonious way. They aren’t worried about their small salary but they are just afraid of staying alone with no one to talk to.

Most people who came were passengers. Some of them were porters and the rest of them were cab drivers and street vendors. All of those people had their own dreams in their minds facing this new day. In the waiting room, an old man was dreaming about meet his family and relatives in Rote while in the midst of the crowd, a young “business” man was dreaming about gaining a lot of money from selling clothes, wristwatch and toys. In the parking lot, a cab driver was dreaming about getting more money as the ferry from Sumba Island arrived. The porters had no time to dream; they were too busy carrying all the goods on and off the ferry.

In the western part of this port I saw an office building owned by PELNI, the company that runs the sea transportation business.  In this office, tickets are sold. I joined in the crowed trying to get the ticket, but it’s hard since people also didn’t want to miss the first ferry, which may bring them luck in their trading businesses. The result was a crowded situation. Everyone wanted to be the first man to get the two-and-a-half-dollar-ticket.

One hour before the ferry started its engine and reached its assigned destination, Pantai Baru port in Rote Island, the crew were ready in the second deck of the ferry while passengers with their entire carry-on luggage and even some animals such as chickens, goats and cows, were occupying the spot they liked in the basement. I didn’t bring much luggage and after paying an additional fifty cents for a ticket, and I got seats in the open air of the first deck. Those who had another additional fifty cents, they might seat in the VIP room with air conditioner and TV, and a small canteen. Money separates people to their own group and situation.

It was eight o’clock in the morning when the ferry started to leave. I felt relieved after having struggled finding a place to seat and to load their belongings, so did many other people. Yet, the heavy waves ware another trial they had to face during the journey, in a wooden ferry not provided with life vest, as they traveled through the cruelty of Timor Sea. If the sea was calm, their relief would be profound, but if it turned the other way, it would become a miserable journey. Many people would get seasick and throw up and the awful smell would fill the air for four to six hours. I didn’t want to experience it.

By spending about twenty dollars people may use the airplane from El Tari airport in Kupang to Rote and that takes only half an hour, instead of sitting four hour in a small dirty room packed with people.  This is the way to avoid seasickness, especially for those who don’t like water and don’t know how to swim. Once a week on Monday, small Cassa airplane leaves Kupang at six o’clock in the morning with its twenty passengers. Off course it has different risk, when it lands on a short runway.

Taking a ferry as transportation isn’t bad. If the passenger enjoys, it is just like sitting in a swinging chair enjoying an early summer wind. Just like this journey, once in a while I saw flying fishes or sometimes several happy dolphins jump into the air by the side of the ferry. I really like this incredible scene.

The ferry arrived at Pantai Baru Port, which is in the North part of Rote Island, about two o’clock. This time all passengers, including me, once again had to struggle to get off the ferry. Porters looked busy finding their temporary employers. For two or three dollars their face were smiling while carrying 200 pounds of someone else’s belongings for about half mile to the land of Rote.

Suddenly, a man asked me,” How do you like the ferry ride?”

“This is a new experience for me and so much fun. I really enjoy it.” I answered calmly.[HN]

Copyright © 2003 - Hendro Nugroho