20130717-114949.jpgMy neighbors are preparing RW (rintek wuuk) for the feast. They have taught me to enjoy eating plain rice with boiled vegetables. Naked children, whose teeth are as dark as their shadows, body surf in the waves. The breeze carries the unavoidable stench of the rotting meat as the village mothers work on extracting oil from what’s left of the sperm whale carcass from the hunt a few days ago. I sit and watch from the black-sand beach, sharpening my whaling knife, waiting for the tuak to be served, and my final baleo call. These are my last moments in the East Indies.


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