It’s been more than an hour since we drove away from Sumba’s tiny Tambolaka airport and so far, it’s been mostly empty stretches of narrow road, with only the occasional group of cheeky schoolchildren waving and hooting to break the monotony.
All of a sudden, a procession of bare-chested, barefoot men approaches on the other side of the road, their red turbans gleaming in the afternoon sunlight. Our driver pulls over, pats his pockets and takes out … a packet of cigarettes, which he proffers to the marchers with great respect. A few stop to accept this token while most glare at the driver and carry on walking.
