Marobo Hot Springs

We’ve been to the Marobo Hot Spring – Be Manas Marobo – twice already in our two years here. Those days out with fellow volunteers, on both occasions, probably led us to believe this is a much visited site for all locals in the area. It was only when we brought it up for discussion during our conversational English class with the diocesan staff that we found out that was not the case.

But it stands to reason. The Marobo Thermal Spring is about 1.5 hours from Maliana but is fairly inaccessible to locals. Though the road from Maliana to Maboro is paved, it is dotted with massive potholes and parts of the road have collapsed. The final stretch leading down to the hot springs is a dirt road that is very steep and slippery. So, on top of needing a 4 wheeler or a motorbike, you also need an experienced driver. Things the staff has no access to; they can’t afford to hire them.

We felt guilty; privileged volunteers going where locals can’t afford to go.

We decided it was time to change that; let’s have a class – staff – picnic at Be Mana Marobo we suggested, would they be interested if we could arrange the transport we asked. They couldn’t plan the picnic menu fast enough.

The diocese has a truck that it uses to transport goods to the surrounding parishes and we asked the priest in charge if we could borrow it for a day to have a staff outing. He was tickled to hear it but he agreed if the driver was willing. That was the easy part, the class made sure the diocesan driver was up to the job (I suppose being related to one of the staff members helped).

On the day, a relatively empty truck left with the staff. Along the way, out of sight of the priest, their families started piling on board, till there was only standing room at the back. The class picnic was going to be a family day too...

Our noses were assailed by the smell of sulfur as we walked to the pools after a bumpy ride up to the springs. The only remnants of what buildings that used to stand at this resort spa were three stone walls which we took turns ducking behind to change into our swimmers. In a similar state of disrepair were the numerous terraced falls, still gushing hot sulfur rich water, and the hot pools surrounded by lush green mountains.

How did this spa come about? Some claimed the Japanese constructed it during World War II, many others say the Portuguese created it while they reigned. I feel the second claim is closer to the truth as an old post card, seemingly depicting the resort’s glory days, attest to its existence in 1927; pre-World War II.

My guess is that the Japanese might have renovated what the Portuguese had built, and converting the resort into an onsen (traditional Japanese hot spring facility). A very likely scenario as stories abounds of the local population being forcibly mobilised to undertake the construction work under the Portuguese and later the Japanese; obviously with gross violations of human rights in either case.

We soaked in the hot pool till we turned pink, slathered ourselves with the sulfur mud before washing it all off under the terraced falls. Thus rejuvenated, it was time for lunch, and a surprise.

They had a surprise for the both as we all sat down for lunch. They wanted to bid us farewell as this was our last month with them. They gifted us with a local Tai bag each and a farewell song to send us on our way.