The bet
I love Timorese people. I just wish they didn’t drink so much. I went on a social call around my old neighborhood in Dili last night. It was good to see old faces. I soon found out that there were several parties being held, all on the same street. I didn’t plan on drinking, but several bottles of tua sabu were broken out and I was hammered before 9 pm.
A couple of hours later we were at a typical Timorese festa. There was drinking and dancing and general tomfoolery and I was with about 15,000 friends I never knew I had. Everyone was very merry. I was introduced to the brother of someone’s brother, who, I was told, is rather a powerful character in the Santa Cruz hood. His FBI T-shirt was enough to dispel any doubts I might have had.
His name escapes me, so I’ll call him Q, like in the James Bond movies. Q invited a handful of us to his house to drink some super-grade tua sabu. Depending on where you buy it from, tua sabu can be relatively mild or almost toxic. Some types, I’m assured, are more like petrol than liqueur.
Q was already drunk and we were all conversing about nothing in particular. All of a sudden, Q stood up and bet me that he could drink an entire 600ml bottle of tua sabu in one go.
“If I do it, you give me five dollars. If not, I give you twenty-five.”
It sounded like one of those carnival games you can’t win. For the sake of entertainment, I put my money on the table and challenged Q to do his worst. I figured that as a hardened drinker, he’d be able to polish off the juice in one go. It would be worth paying five bucks to see such a feat. In the back of mind, however, I’m thinking, “Mother of God. This guy is going to down a bottle of tua sabu.”
My friends seemed to think he’d be able to do it. Q then told me he was getting married. I got the impression that this bet was being made to fund some part of the wedding.
The time for talk was over. Q took the bottle and started gulping it down. He made it about halfway before he stopped. At that point, everyone froze. I looked at my friend John. “What does this mean?” I asked. I quickly recapped the rules of the challenge and not only had this guy failed in front of his friends and family, but he now owed me $25.
For a few moments, nobody knew what to do. Q apologized profusely and looked upset. The poor guy then started figuring out ways to honor the bet. There were some frantic discussions among people and Q then said he would get me 24 cans of ABC beer.
I hadn’t expected to win the bet, so I told Q not to worry about it and that one can would suffice. Of course, Q was smashed out of his mind. After a couple of minutes he was still on his feet, although he was bent over a table, leaning forward with his head in his hands.
