A lesson I learnt at the car wash

We didn't own a car for the first 6 years of our mission in Timor-Leste. It was a deliberate decision to rely on public transport or simply walking, so that we would be more in touch with ordinary Timorese and more exposed, quite literally, to ground realities.

But the times that I did drive also taught me an important lesson, one that is strangely relevant now.

Many years ago, a missionary friend of ours would leave her car with us each time she went back to Singapore. If I remember correctly, she was studying a Masters course which required her to be back regularly. She also had church commitments to fulfill in Singapore ever so often. So each time she left Timor-Leste, I got to drive her car.

I really enjoyed having access to a vehicle. It was definitely more comfortable, and safer, than taking local taxis, many of which were in a very shabby condition. And driving also saved me time, as I ran errands around the city. 

Each time our friend came back to Timor-Leste, I would drive the car to the car wash and then pick her up at the airport. Going to the car wash could be a time consuming experience, depending on how many vehicles were in the line - and how dirty they were. Cars that had made trips from the districts were usually caked in a thick layer of dirt or mud, as many roads outside of Dili were not paved. I was often prepared to wait at the car wash for an hour or more. It obviously wasn't my favourite thing to do. 

At one point during the mindless waiting, something hit me. All the time that I supposedly "saved" by driving around when my friend was gone, was now being spent at the car wash, and again at the airport, as I waited for the plane to land and for my friend to clear immigration and customs. This was a regular occurrence. Perhaps I hadn't "saved" any time at all. I thought to myself, "Things take the amount of time that they do. You can't really "save" time."

Later on, I extrapolated this to finances. Everything costs a certain amount of money. You can't really "save" money, beyond a certain point of frugality. A good example is health. Fresh foods will always cost more than processed junk food. One could "save" money by buying and eating processed food, but at some point, all the money "saved" might go towards medical bills when one falls sick from a poor diet over a long period of time. So once again, perhaps we're not meant to "save" money all the time.  

These two truths are coming back to me, as I watch the number of coronavirus infections skyrocket in our foreign workers' dormitories. I don't know enough to comment intelligently about our labour policies with regards to migrant workers, the processes governing the building and maintenance of dormitories, and so on. The online space has been filled with emotional rhetoric of all kinds. Some blame the operators of the dormitories for the lack of basic hygiene standards in the quarters, others point the finger at the migrant workers for not keeping their living spaces clean. 

Me? I'm transported back to the car wash in Dili. I see myself sitting on a flimsy plastic chair, squinting at the young men cleaning the car and willing them to hurry up. Things take the time that they do. You can't "save" time. Things also cost the amount of money that they do. You can't cut corners without consequences later on. 

Whatever money that was "saved" years ago by designing and building our foreign workers' dormitories in a certain cost-cutting way is now probably being spent on rehousing them away from the affected hotspots, on mass testing, on treating the infected. Sometimes, you really can't save money. Wisdom is knowing when this is so.