Aircraft to me are akin to the magic beans so hastily sown by the boy in the much beloved English fairly tale, Jack and the Beanstalk.
True, I don’t have to grow my own aircraft or literally climb several storeys to my destination but my “magic bean” does provide the way to be transported from one place in space to the next. The sneaky promptness of the transformation is the greatest. From one moment where the destination is still only a place you’ve read about to the second you arrive and it becomes your full technicolour, skin prickling reality.
My most recent jaunt did not involve escaping from hairy giants (unless you count my loving companion), but it did feature a crocodile that by its sheer popularity and significance seemed to follow me everywhere in Dili, Timor Leste. Its reptilian shape could be recognised in wooden carvings, etched out in weavings and worn on T-shirts pretty much everywhere.
And when I asked why the crocodile featured as much in Dili, my question was answered by the telling of a tale, involving yet another young boy…
“Many years ago a small crocodile lived in a swamp in a far away place. He dreamed of becoming a big crocodile but as food was scarce, he became weak and grew sadder and sadder.
He left for the open sea, to find food and realise his dream, but the day became increasingly hot and he was still far from the seashore. The little crocodile - rapidly drying out and now in desperation - lay down to die.
A small boy took pity on the stranded crocodile and carried him to the sea. The crocodile, instantly revived, was grateful. “Little boy”, he said, “you have saved my life. If I can ever help you in any way, please call me. I will be at your command…”
A few years later, the boy called the crocodile, who was now big and strong. “Brother Crocodile”, he said, “I too have a dream. I want to see the world”. “Climb on my back,” said the crocodile, “and tell me, which way do you want to go?” “Follow the sun”, said the boy.
The crocodile set off for the east, and they traveled the oceans for years, until one day the crocodile said to the boy, “Brother, we have been travelling for a long time. But now the time has come for me to die. In memory of your kindness, I will turn myself into a beautiful island, where you and your children can live until the sun sinks in the sea.”
As the crocodile died, he grew and grew, and his ridged back became the mountains and his scales the hills of Timor.
Now when the people of East Timor swim in the ocean, they enter the water saying “Don’t eat me crocodile, I am your relative”.
~ From the East Timor's Independence Day Committee
