The dusk turned to darkness. After the heat of the day a gentle breeze came down from the mountains. The noise of the village was fading. A small crowd began gathering outside the modest home of Chief Thomas. First it was children and then adults formed almost silently behind them. Many wrapped themselves with bolts of cloth to shield against the cool of the evening. They smiled when eye contact was made. Some teeth were red and rotting from chewing betel nut. As the crowd grew so did the anticipation. Through a translator the chief welcomed us to his home. He acknowledged how remote it was and how long and difficult a journey we had made to be here. He then offered two traditional tais which had been hand woven in the village. One had Westbourne Park written into the weave. He placed the Irst one around the neck of Jenny Carver, asking her to take it to the church in thanks. He then asked for a representative of our group and Liz went forward and he placed another around her neck as thanks to our team. We were introduced one by one to the chief. He held our hands in both of his when shaking them. We prayed. The village people clapped. We clapped in response. Everyone was on the brink of laughing in delight. It was beautiful. Above us the night sky was a canopy of stars. The Southern Cross flickered in the far corner. Welcome to Timor Leste