Someone was shaking my bed, like he/she was trying to wake me up but it wasn't the usual way a person shakes it.
Not up and down but my entire body was shifting (in entirety) laterally right and left -like i was on a platform in the sea and it was moving right and left - a sensation never felt before. I was midway in the realm of dreamy subconsciousness and reality, wondering why I was having such a surreal dream. Previous conversations of little 'hantus'(imps) seeped into my still-sleepy mind and I thought that they were having a tug-o-war at my feet. Gradually I broke through the depths of my sleep, awoken by the persistent tugs, and blinked into the darkness of my room. I still did not know why I was awake. I looked around for the imps but there were none.
Then I heard noises outside my compound - people shouting and banging on pots and pans, stirring up the neighbourhood. I tried to listen hard to what they were shouting about and then somnabulistically pulled apart the curtains to check things out. At 2am, and without my contact lens (yes, my glasses are being repaired in Jakarta), I was rather blind. I could only make out the forms of two persons walking to the gate. I presumed it was Naier - the guy who sleeps in the guardhouse - and Leo the Timorese security boy. Without 20/20 vision and in my PJs, I decided not to explore further. Trusting in Naier and Leo and the barbed wire to protect me. I thought there was a riot outside but sleep overwhelmed me and soon i was back in bed. Just as I was diving back into dreamland, strains of people praying wafted into my room. I wondered why Toi was experiencing a religious fervour at this hour but curiosity escaped me.
At 7am, a call woke me up. It was my sister calling from Washington D.C. "Hey you ok? I heard news that there was an earthquake, about 7.7 in Indonesia..about 275miles from Dili. Are you alright? Did you feel anything?"
Yes, so that was what it was huh? I smiled to myself, still in slumber and half listening in. "Yeah, i'm ok. I didn't really feel anything. I'm alright. Oh Happy New Year by the way."
There you have it. My first brush with an earthquake and I slept through it.
Turns out the quake lasted at least 3 minutes and the Timorese banging on pots and pans to wake God up, to get get His attention and to pray that He would look after us. He did. Thanks be to God. Thanks too for all those people praying to God - they prayed for me too.
The lil tumbleweed
Monday, January 30, 2006
Friday, January 27, 2006
Timor by Jael
Isn't this a cool picture especially for Singaporeans? No wonder Jael calls it M1Gal. :-) She was in Timor recently and now has a bunch of pictures at her flickr site. U can just click on this pic to go there.
Thursday, January 26, 2006
Is friendship still possible?
Last Friday, President Xanana Gusmao presented the findings of a human rights report to the United Nations. This report, which looks at the 24 years of Indonesian occupation in Timor-Leste, was completed after 3 years of interviewing thousands of Timorese involved in the conflict.
Xanana has reiterated that the report by the Commission for Truth and Reconciliation (CAVR)is meant to "heal the wounds in people's minds" and that it's not just about the Indonesian invasion but also investigations into human rights violations commited by Timorese upon other Timorese. But nobody really knows exactly what the 2500-page report contains as the CAVR report has not been released publicly. Right now, perhaps Mr Kofi Annan is still flipping through the pages over many cups of coffee.
'Maun Bot', as Xanana is affectionately known, has appealed for only parts of the report to be made public - revelations that will not cause the already tense relations between Indonesia and Timor-Leste to worsen. But human rights groups are lobbying for the full report. Already the repercussions are being felt. Yesterday while Xanana was on his way back via Jakarta, Mr SBY cancelled his meeting with him. Newspapers quote that it was to express his unhappiness over Timor submitting a report which Jakarta claims is exaggerated.
Most coincidentally, as the political storm began to brew, we screened a film about the process of reconciliation in Timor-Leste. Called 'Passabe', this film, which has been shown in the Singapore Film Festival, was banned recently just 3 hours before it was to be shown at the Jakarta Film Festival. Directed by 2 filmmakers based in Singapore (I can't say Singaporeans cos one of them isn't but he lives in singapore and i never asked for his nationality), the film focuses on the confessions of a farmer Alexio Elu, a former militia member from Passabe, which is a border village between Timor Leste and INdonesia. The elders call Passabe the gateway between East and West. The camera follows Alexio's journey from his confessions (even though others refused to follow suit) to his reconciliation with his neighbours. Alexio's confession of killing one man is interweaved with the stories of a massacre survivor, and the ostracised wife of a militia leader Florencio Tacaqui. Tacaqui is now in jail for 12 years for his crimes during the 99 conflict.Their stories were touching but the filmmakers used the Timorese bawdy sense of humour to defuse those moments, allowing us to laugh off the poignancy.
Although Alexio manages to make peace once again with his neighbours and friends, his village Passabe,which was known as a militia village that killed 74 men from surrounding villages, is still unable to do so with its neighbours. The surrounding villages want 74 buffaloes and 74 strings of holy beads for each man killed but the request is turned down by Passabe. The other militia members also refuse to admit killing anyone, preferring to make an assortment of remarks ranging from "I only took shade under the tree and saw the houses burning" or "I pushed the door open and didn't do anything else" or "When we arrived there were other people there." These half-hearted confessions irk those who have turned up expecting honesty and reconciliation, only to return mission unaccomplished. So till now Passabe remains isolated from its neighbours.
But among the characters in the film, I found myself most touched by Tacaqui's wife who made some pragmatic statements. When asked if she wants to bring anything for Tacaqui since the filmmakers are returning to Dili, she says "Why should i send anything for him? He's the one with the roof over his head. I'm the one who is struggling to look after 2 children." Conflict tears families apart and cuts deep wounds into their hearts. There is also a scene when a village chief shows the filmmakers the houses of widows lined up along both sides of the road. I was really saddened.
Even at the village level, we see that reconciliation is possible for some and yet unreachable for others. What more the challenges between sovereign countries? And even as the CAVR report is being read by Mr KA, border incursions and conflicts continue to challenge the two governments. Last month, 3 Indonesians were shot dead by Timorese police and now investigations are underway to determine the cause. Each side has its own story. It reminds me of Kurosawa's 'The Gates of Rashomon' - who's telling the truth? It's always hard to accept another person's truth. So will the CAVR - the Commission for Truth and Reconciliation - be able to convince Jakarta that it's truth is validated and accurate?
Is reconciliation possible? Will forgiving allow one to move forward? What do we really want our perpertrators to do in order to forgive them? Some people accept money, some want cows, others prefer death sentences, while some say God will see to a just punishment.
I don't know. I really don't know.
Xanana has reiterated that the report by the Commission for Truth and Reconciliation (CAVR)is meant to "heal the wounds in people's minds" and that it's not just about the Indonesian invasion but also investigations into human rights violations commited by Timorese upon other Timorese. But nobody really knows exactly what the 2500-page report contains as the CAVR report has not been released publicly. Right now, perhaps Mr Kofi Annan is still flipping through the pages over many cups of coffee.
'Maun Bot', as Xanana is affectionately known, has appealed for only parts of the report to be made public - revelations that will not cause the already tense relations between Indonesia and Timor-Leste to worsen. But human rights groups are lobbying for the full report. Already the repercussions are being felt. Yesterday while Xanana was on his way back via Jakarta, Mr SBY cancelled his meeting with him. Newspapers quote that it was to express his unhappiness over Timor submitting a report which Jakarta claims is exaggerated.
Most coincidentally, as the political storm began to brew, we screened a film about the process of reconciliation in Timor-Leste. Called 'Passabe', this film, which has been shown in the Singapore Film Festival, was banned recently just 3 hours before it was to be shown at the Jakarta Film Festival. Directed by 2 filmmakers based in Singapore (I can't say Singaporeans cos one of them isn't but he lives in singapore and i never asked for his nationality), the film focuses on the confessions of a farmer Alexio Elu, a former militia member from Passabe, which is a border village between Timor Leste and INdonesia. The elders call Passabe the gateway between East and West. The camera follows Alexio's journey from his confessions (even though others refused to follow suit) to his reconciliation with his neighbours. Alexio's confession of killing one man is interweaved with the stories of a massacre survivor, and the ostracised wife of a militia leader Florencio Tacaqui. Tacaqui is now in jail for 12 years for his crimes during the 99 conflict.Their stories were touching but the filmmakers used the Timorese bawdy sense of humour to defuse those moments, allowing us to laugh off the poignancy.
Although Alexio manages to make peace once again with his neighbours and friends, his village Passabe,which was known as a militia village that killed 74 men from surrounding villages, is still unable to do so with its neighbours. The surrounding villages want 74 buffaloes and 74 strings of holy beads for each man killed but the request is turned down by Passabe. The other militia members also refuse to admit killing anyone, preferring to make an assortment of remarks ranging from "I only took shade under the tree and saw the houses burning" or "I pushed the door open and didn't do anything else" or "When we arrived there were other people there." These half-hearted confessions irk those who have turned up expecting honesty and reconciliation, only to return mission unaccomplished. So till now Passabe remains isolated from its neighbours.
But among the characters in the film, I found myself most touched by Tacaqui's wife who made some pragmatic statements. When asked if she wants to bring anything for Tacaqui since the filmmakers are returning to Dili, she says "Why should i send anything for him? He's the one with the roof over his head. I'm the one who is struggling to look after 2 children." Conflict tears families apart and cuts deep wounds into their hearts. There is also a scene when a village chief shows the filmmakers the houses of widows lined up along both sides of the road. I was really saddened.
Even at the village level, we see that reconciliation is possible for some and yet unreachable for others. What more the challenges between sovereign countries? And even as the CAVR report is being read by Mr KA, border incursions and conflicts continue to challenge the two governments. Last month, 3 Indonesians were shot dead by Timorese police and now investigations are underway to determine the cause. Each side has its own story. It reminds me of Kurosawa's 'The Gates of Rashomon' - who's telling the truth? It's always hard to accept another person's truth. So will the CAVR - the Commission for Truth and Reconciliation - be able to convince Jakarta that it's truth is validated and accurate?
Is reconciliation possible? Will forgiving allow one to move forward? What do we really want our perpertrators to do in order to forgive them? Some people accept money, some want cows, others prefer death sentences, while some say God will see to a just punishment.
I don't know. I really don't know.
Friday, January 20, 2006
reminiscing days of fixed lines
I've read in reports that the cell phone technology has allowed less developed countries to progress faster as there is no more need for the laborious and costly task of laying fixed telephone lines. But do the people really benefit from this technology when it is priced way above their means? Here in Timor, we scratch away the foil of prepaid calling cards to reveal a set of numbers (jumbled up through countless permutations) that will allow us to top up the value in our SIM card. This practise is common in many other countries including its closest neighbour Indonesia. It's definitely cheaper than paying monthly subscription like in Singapore where you have to commit to at least $30SGD a month and then pay the excess at the end of each month. Here, what you use is taken directly from the prepaid card.
But if you ask "You got minutes?" which is a common way of asking if someone has value on their phones, the most common answer is a 'No'. This because the minutes are sold in USD10 and USD15 denominations which few people can afford. SMSes and Calls are also pretty expensive like 0.10USD per minute/ each so I find myself having to buy a new phone card every one to 2 weeks. In the beginning I did not realise that Timorese have handphones so that people can call them, not vice versa. I kept messaging people and expecting them to respond likewise via sms or calls. So even when they are unable to make a meeting there would not be a response which peeved me incredibly. Until i realised that few have minutes or 'pulsa' (indonesian slang) on their phones. Now, i just pick up my phone or use the office to call them directly. and if they can't afford to even buy a phone and the initial SIM card, we just have to plan in advance to meet at a certain time, certain place like the good ole days. If they don't turn up, you just shrug your shoulders and go home. So until the phone cards are priced more affordably OR this country uses a new currency which brings the cost of living down, most Timorese will remain excluded from the benefits of cellular technology.
On the topic of phones, I remember I was about 15 when the SIngapore government first began charging per-minute calls on our home's fixed telephone lines. There was much apprehension as people had always paid a very low fixed sum each month for unlimited access. I remember how shopkeepers were friendlier and had always allowed us to use their phones but once the government began charging the calls, people were less willing to let you use the phone. At 15, I worried how my friendships, which were maintained with extensive long calls each afternoon, would be affected. Who would call whom? Would the charges mark the end of "making phone porridge"? Of course, my fears were allayed when the phone bills never hit the roof and I continued to have access to the phone. Now, some households have even done away with home phones and we use internet technologies like SKYPE to call round the world for free. Technology is truly amazing. We have come so far but with each leap, are we in danger of leaving some others even further behind?
But if you ask "You got minutes?" which is a common way of asking if someone has value on their phones, the most common answer is a 'No'. This because the minutes are sold in USD10 and USD15 denominations which few people can afford. SMSes and Calls are also pretty expensive like 0.10USD per minute/ each so I find myself having to buy a new phone card every one to 2 weeks. In the beginning I did not realise that Timorese have handphones so that people can call them, not vice versa. I kept messaging people and expecting them to respond likewise via sms or calls. So even when they are unable to make a meeting there would not be a response which peeved me incredibly. Until i realised that few have minutes or 'pulsa' (indonesian slang) on their phones. Now, i just pick up my phone or use the office to call them directly. and if they can't afford to even buy a phone and the initial SIM card, we just have to plan in advance to meet at a certain time, certain place like the good ole days. If they don't turn up, you just shrug your shoulders and go home. So until the phone cards are priced more affordably OR this country uses a new currency which brings the cost of living down, most Timorese will remain excluded from the benefits of cellular technology.
On the topic of phones, I remember I was about 15 when the SIngapore government first began charging per-minute calls on our home's fixed telephone lines. There was much apprehension as people had always paid a very low fixed sum each month for unlimited access. I remember how shopkeepers were friendlier and had always allowed us to use their phones but once the government began charging the calls, people were less willing to let you use the phone. At 15, I worried how my friendships, which were maintained with extensive long calls each afternoon, would be affected. Who would call whom? Would the charges mark the end of "making phone porridge"? Of course, my fears were allayed when the phone bills never hit the roof and I continued to have access to the phone. Now, some households have even done away with home phones and we use internet technologies like SKYPE to call round the world for free. Technology is truly amazing. We have come so far but with each leap, are we in danger of leaving some others even further behind?
Tuesday, January 17, 2006
Cell No.5
I caught sight of his tattoo when we were eating lunch one day. I asked him what it signified and he began telling me (almost casually) a bit about his past. This was when it dawned upon me just how many respected resistance fighters were in our midst everyday in my workplace. They are now my colleagues but before the UN came they were independence fighters who were jailed for their struggle for their country's sovereignty. The tattoo signified the solidarity of the 7 prisoners who were kept in the same cell for 12 months from February 1998. The rays emitting represented the 7, while the dots in the centre was their Cell No.5 and the cross atop, a symbol of their innocence. He told me how they had tattooed each other in the cell, using a needle and a candle. Someone held his hand steady while another held his shoulders to prevent him from squirming away in pain. Then a third person had lit the candle, and used the needle to puncture the design into his skin. And then mixing the soot and blood, the tattoo was forever burned into his hand. Was it painful? Did he cry? Yes, he said. It was painful as H*** but no, never, he never cried. After all, surely this pain cannot compare to the heartbreak of losing friends and families in a 24-year struggle.
Friday, January 06, 2006
kangkung in drains
UNDP supports US$ 80.000 for public cleaning in DiliTV Monitoring, January 3, 2006
Public workers-vice Minister, Raul Mausaco said the problem of flooding
because drainages because of clogged up because of the population threw
rubbish and plan some water-vegetables (kankung) into drainages. "One team from public workers that does not have department to deal directly with drainages and streets," said Mausaco. We need big budget to clean the drainages in Dili, added Mausaco. UNDP has supported US$ 80.000 for the public cleaning in Dili, said Mausaco.
One of the earliest advice I got from a colleague was to avoid KangKung like the plague. Still that piece of wisdom was unvalidated until I began taking walks and saw Kangkung indeed being planted everywhere - especially in drains - or any decently-sized puddles of water. And now with the Vice-Minister openly talking about kangkung in drains, i think I will definitely STOP eating kangkung now --- except that the KangKung creeps insidiously onto every table by virtue that it is the most available green in this country. My mom says the straw-like feature of KangKung makes them great homes for parasites. Eww. Mommy, I think I'll need a de-worming pill when I come home.
Wednesday, January 04, 2006
400kilometresofconversation
learning tamil:vanakam noi noi madhu na u nei kade lickrain-wordbuilding:octupuC
ouscouspaghetticepopapaya
ppleggrollimeicecreamacad
amianutsoupiextractofvani
llagralbaniamericaustriaz
erbijanewzealandenmarkeny
arlingtonottinghillsingap
orengland -practising tamil: manurivalikam manurindrum - cheering the driver: go simeon go! - watching out for suicidal chickens & dogs dashing across roads: LOOK OUT! waving to everyone: hey, she didn't wave back! hellooooo! -trying to join in a tamil conversation: ?! and of course sowmiya's legendary MONOLOGUES! She won't have any problem captivating the audience when she does the V Monologues this Feb in OZland!
ouscouspaghetticepopapaya
ppleggrollimeicecreamacad
amianutsoupiextractofvani
llagralbaniamericaustriaz
erbijanewzealandenmarkeny
arlingtonottinghillsingap
orengland -practising tamil: manurivalikam manurindrum - cheering the driver: go simeon go! - watching out for suicidal chickens & dogs dashing across roads: LOOK OUT! waving to everyone: hey, she didn't wave back! hellooooo! -trying to join in a tamil conversation: ?! and of course sowmiya's legendary MONOLOGUES! She won't have any problem captivating the audience when she does the V Monologues this Feb in OZland!
Tuesday, January 03, 2006
idyllic ideal
This is such a remarkably mediocre photo that it does no justice to the wonders i experienced on New Year's Day 2006 on Jako Island. Jako Isle is a national marine park that falls off the tip of Timor island,and is surrounded by reef, pristine waters and abundant sea life. We snorkelled in an aquarium of tropical fish - a different world that lies beneath the brilliantly turqoise waters. You hardly have to walk a few feet into the water before seeing fish. It was just great floating amongst the fishes, with them so close to your face, you could see every detail. It did get a lil hairy when a school of ominous black fish silently sailed by. It was like the soundtrack to 'Under the Sea' stopped while these black pirates went by. There were countless Dory fish (remember Finding Nemo? It's that talkative and forgetful blue fish), many curious Clown fish, and loads of other fish that me - the fishoignoramus - cannot name. So that was my New Year's Day - communing with fish and trying not to eat them!
BUt in order to reach this Paradise island, we had to take a trip as arduous as a pilgrimage to Mount Kailash. (ok ok. not as bad but bad enough!)First we had to endure a 6 hour drive through winding mountain roads littered with potholes (and sometimes portions washed away by the heavy rains) to reach Com where we stayed for a night and then we had to drive for another 3 hours the next morning to reach Walu - which is just opposite Jako Island. So yes, this postcard picture belies the treacherous terrain we had to conquer especially the last stretch of rock and gravel slopes leading down to Walu beach. The four-wheel drive Trooper did extremely well, as did Simeon our Queenslander 'mate' who did most of the driving. (he really says 'mate' all the time!) His hands must be so sore now wrestling with the steering wheel and the gear sticks. 
See how serious he is, while i horsed around.The trip back UP the slopes were really a test of driving skills but the Trooper roared up the killer slopes pretty well. The 2 Timorese we gave a lift to looked rather nauseous by the end of the ride. Of course, don't forget we had to drive back to Com again and then back to Dili the next day which was another 9 hours of driving. My back and bottom hurt! The Trooper ain't the most comfortable ride i must say!
SO... Will i do it again? YES YES YES YES YES! And yes, going to Jako means i have just fulfilled one of my New Year's Wishes! Yippee! Happy New year y'all!
BUt in order to reach this Paradise island, we had to take a trip as arduous as a pilgrimage to Mount Kailash. (ok ok. not as bad but bad enough!)First we had to endure a 6 hour drive through winding mountain roads littered with potholes (and sometimes portions washed away by the heavy rains) to reach Com where we stayed for a night and then we had to drive for another 3 hours the next morning to reach Walu - which is just opposite Jako Island. So yes, this postcard picture belies the treacherous terrain we had to conquer especially the last stretch of rock and gravel slopes leading down to Walu beach. The four-wheel drive Trooper did extremely well, as did Simeon our Queenslander 'mate' who did most of the driving. (he really says 'mate' all the time!) His hands must be so sore now wrestling with the steering wheel and the gear sticks. 
See how serious he is, while i horsed around.The trip back UP the slopes were really a test of driving skills but the Trooper roared up the killer slopes pretty well. The 2 Timorese we gave a lift to looked rather nauseous by the end of the ride. Of course, don't forget we had to drive back to Com again and then back to Dili the next day which was another 9 hours of driving. My back and bottom hurt! The Trooper ain't the most comfortable ride i must say! SO... Will i do it again? YES YES YES YES YES! And yes, going to Jako means i have just fulfilled one of my New Year's Wishes! Yippee! Happy New year y'all!
Friday, December 30, 2005
DRENCHED! -- storm story #2
Ironically after these two pictures were taken (as I was waiting for a taxi 2 mornings ago) i got badly drenched. A cab came and we managed to get it to come onto the curb so we wouldn't get our feet wet. But just as I was about to get in, a huge truck roared down the street - spraying me with water! Phewet!@#$%^& my hair got wet, my glasses fell off and got out of shape. GRR! Thank goodness the water didn't smell, still i asked the cab driver to wait while i ran back home to wash my hair! I just could not imagine spending the day with dirty hair and face! So after a quick shampoo i ran back to the waiting car. The entire street leading to the cathedral was flooded so the car had to find another route to the office. The cab's front windows could not close fully (it's a common occurence in all Dili cabs - windows and doors are often jammed) so each time a car roared by, water would spray in so i stuck an umbrella up to the window to shield us. As we were manoevuring through the potholes, 2 men from a passing motorbike shouted at our driver and forced him to halt. One of them jumped down and began shouting aggresively, gesticulating wildly and pointing at the driver's Police ID, and even stuck his hand into the car and took away the car keys! We were shocked but couldn't understand what was going on, as my Tetum is still so basic. Meanwhile, our driver was going "husu desculpa, husu desculpa," and pleading with the man. It was interesting to see him adopt a subservient body language and holding up his hands in plea. Finally, the man was appeased and left in a huff. Apparently, the 2 were mad cos our car had splashed them with water! I guess the flood just makes everyone's stress level higher and they just needed to vent their anger on someone. That was a scary incident but thankfully they didn't get into a scuffle and our driver was so apologetic. It would have been a messy scene - with mud, rain, and potholes - if they had 'baku malu' (fought). So there you have it - another rainy day in Dili. I wonder what tomorrow wil bring?
Thursday, December 29, 2005
UDAN BOT! Big Rain! ---- storm story #1
It's been pouring elephants and hippopotamuses out here on our end. 2 days ago it poured so hard that by the time i left the office at 7pm, the entire street in front was flooded up to the shin level. I stood around helpless until a colleague passed by and offered to drop me somewhere that was hopefully drier to catch a taxi home. So i jumped onto his motorbike and cruised through the street that had become a river. But we went no further than 20m when he was forced to stop as he feared for the life of his beloved machine. The water was so deep that it was threatening to choke the exhaust pipe and kill his bike. So we found a little island of dry land and stood there waiting - hoping for the waters to recede.
All around us were young men who were thrilled with the rains. They were wading about - paying little regard that by now, sewerage water, drain water & all sorts of rubbish had converged and that they were wading through highly toxic waters. Everytime a car passed through, it would send waves towards our islet. "Tsunami, tsunami," they would cry each time that happened. I shuddered to think what if it was indeed a tsunami (and this was a day after Dec 26) and also to think of all the little kids with sores on their legs wading through the water. My colleague began chatting with a boy and i heard the word 'lafaek' and immediately demanded a translation. He calmly told me there's a croc trying to get out in the street behind us. How lucky can one get? Standing in the rain, in the dark, feeding mosquitoes and possibly a crocodile that might sidle up in the waters? HELP!
Finally after what seemed an eternity, I spotted a UNICEF car pass by and managed to get it to stop and bring me home. All the way home, Dili had become Venice. But now safely inside a big car, the rain water did not seem half as scary even though i could see that there was no way one could tell where the sidewalk ended and the drains began. *shudder* anyone could fall in.
The next morning, we heard that 2 youngsters had died in the storms. One of them was a 16 year old gal who had dropped into the drain after she had been harassed by young boys and was distracted. She was swept away to her death.
This is the reality here in Timor.
All around us were young men who were thrilled with the rains. They were wading about - paying little regard that by now, sewerage water, drain water & all sorts of rubbish had converged and that they were wading through highly toxic waters. Everytime a car passed through, it would send waves towards our islet. "Tsunami, tsunami," they would cry each time that happened. I shuddered to think what if it was indeed a tsunami (and this was a day after Dec 26) and also to think of all the little kids with sores on their legs wading through the water. My colleague began chatting with a boy and i heard the word 'lafaek' and immediately demanded a translation. He calmly told me there's a croc trying to get out in the street behind us. How lucky can one get? Standing in the rain, in the dark, feeding mosquitoes and possibly a crocodile that might sidle up in the waters? HELP!
Finally after what seemed an eternity, I spotted a UNICEF car pass by and managed to get it to stop and bring me home. All the way home, Dili had become Venice. But now safely inside a big car, the rain water did not seem half as scary even though i could see that there was no way one could tell where the sidewalk ended and the drains began. *shudder* anyone could fall in.
The next morning, we heard that 2 youngsters had died in the storms. One of them was a 16 year old gal who had dropped into the drain after she had been harassed by young boys and was distracted. She was swept away to her death.
This is the reality here in Timor.
Tuesday, December 27, 2005
realities of war
i know it's Christmas and so I should not be writing depressing stuff. But a recent article in Timor Post that was translated by a colleague caught my eye after he asked me to edit it for grammar and language. I was shocked. So maybe i am ignorant but still saddened.
The article was about children who died during the 24 years of resistance in Timor Loro'sae. A former Falintil guerilla known as 'Bisoi' told the reporter that it was true that during the resistance, some children were killed by their parents. She stressed that this was due to the extenuating circumstances of the war. Bisoi explained that many women had children during the time they were living in the bush and fighting against the occupiers. Sometimes these women had no choice but to either abandon their children when there was absolutely nothing to eat or when the cries of their hungry and traumatised children might lead the enemies to kill the entire troop of guerillas. So it was out of no choice that many put down their own children. SHe revealed this in the Parliament as she was pushing for these children to be recognised as having contributed to the independence struggle.
A frisson of fear ran down my spine as i read the report. I cannot imagine ever being asked to do that. To kill my own flesh and blood. Although Bisoi stressed that the general commander never ordered the children to be killed, it was the overarching goal of winning the resistance that pushed some parents to sacrifice their children. It is so sad. Children are always such innocent victims. What can you do when your baby cries endlessly because your breast has run dry of milk? Oh.. how it must have broken the hearts of those mothers who had to do the unspeakable. ALhtough the war is over, its effects are still being felt here. HOw can a mother ever recover if she had killed her own baby?
Do we know how lucky we are? People who have never known conflict. People who have only experienced war through movies or video games.
The other day we were up in the mountains near Dili when G pointed out to the bushes and said, "look, here's where we slept during the 99 conflict." they slept in the forest, surroudned by coffee trees and bitten by the insects. I never cease to be amazed by their resilience.
THIS NEW YEAR --- let's pray for PEACE on earth. Let's pray that the LOVE we exude may overcome the devil and his games.
The article was about children who died during the 24 years of resistance in Timor Loro'sae. A former Falintil guerilla known as 'Bisoi' told the reporter that it was true that during the resistance, some children were killed by their parents. She stressed that this was due to the extenuating circumstances of the war. Bisoi explained that many women had children during the time they were living in the bush and fighting against the occupiers. Sometimes these women had no choice but to either abandon their children when there was absolutely nothing to eat or when the cries of their hungry and traumatised children might lead the enemies to kill the entire troop of guerillas. So it was out of no choice that many put down their own children. SHe revealed this in the Parliament as she was pushing for these children to be recognised as having contributed to the independence struggle.
A frisson of fear ran down my spine as i read the report. I cannot imagine ever being asked to do that. To kill my own flesh and blood. Although Bisoi stressed that the general commander never ordered the children to be killed, it was the overarching goal of winning the resistance that pushed some parents to sacrifice their children. It is so sad. Children are always such innocent victims. What can you do when your baby cries endlessly because your breast has run dry of milk? Oh.. how it must have broken the hearts of those mothers who had to do the unspeakable. ALhtough the war is over, its effects are still being felt here. HOw can a mother ever recover if she had killed her own baby?
Do we know how lucky we are? People who have never known conflict. People who have only experienced war through movies or video games.
The other day we were up in the mountains near Dili when G pointed out to the bushes and said, "look, here's where we slept during the 99 conflict." they slept in the forest, surroudned by coffee trees and bitten by the insects. I never cease to be amazed by their resilience.
THIS NEW YEAR --- let's pray for PEACE on earth. Let's pray that the LOVE we exude may overcome the devil and his games.
Wednesday, December 21, 2005
MERRY CHRISTMAS FROM TIMOR!
Wishing everyone a great year ahead - one that's filled with grace and happiness. What's your wish list for the next six months? Here's mine:1. Get into Columbia University for my Masters
2. Learn more Tetum
3. Become more patient & humble (!)
4. Do more exercise
5. Talk to and trust God even more
6. Climb Mt Ramelau, Snorkel at Jako Island and stay over at Atauro Island
7. Write many more articles about Timor
8. Memorise the World Map (!)
9. Take good pictures of amazing Timor
10.Do some good (!!hmmm tough one!)
Monday, December 19, 2005
feliz navidad!
We had a zany xmas party this past saturday at EXOTICA restaurant - formerly Sagres the portuguese restaurant, next to Victoria, which is on the way to Cristo Rei...
Despite the rain, spirits were high and got even higher when AQ joined in our section's skit with his x-dressing (courtesy of Ibu Aquino!). Peals of laughter were echoed through the hall when AQ strutted in with me as his 'son'. Our section's presentation was a spoof of our counterparts in RTTL - the public broadcaster.
Called 'Orcamentu La iha' - it's based on the endless cycle of "osan la iha" (no money) to "proposta iha nebe?" (where's the proposal?) to "orcamentu laiha" (no budget) that faces both our section and our counterparts. With little regard for our 'image', our silly section took the crowd by storm and got them all holding their stomachs,splitting their sides.
Here's to another great year ahead! The craziest and most creative section! YEAH!
Despite the rain, spirits were high and got even higher when AQ joined in our section's skit with his x-dressing (courtesy of Ibu Aquino!). Peals of laughter were echoed through the hall when AQ strutted in with me as his 'son'. Our section's presentation was a spoof of our counterparts in RTTL - the public broadcaster.
Called 'Orcamentu La iha' - it's based on the endless cycle of "osan la iha" (no money) to "proposta iha nebe?" (where's the proposal?) to "orcamentu laiha" (no budget) that faces both our section and our counterparts. With little regard for our 'image', our silly section took the crowd by storm and got them all holding their stomachs,splitting their sides.
Here's to another great year ahead! The craziest and most creative section! YEAH!
Thursday, December 15, 2005
Swooning over Mr X
How do you blog about your first encounter with the President of Timor-Leste (former guerilla resistance fighter, thrown in jail, married to an OZ women, father of 3 lovely kids & political extraordinaire) without sounding like an absolute groupie? And what can you make of his friendly slap on your back that takes you by surprise and renders you speechless and stupefied - like a 'stunning' spell had hit you? Ahhh.... you can only sigh in disbelief that you had been touched by someone larger than life. SWOOOOOON...
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
what snowflake are you?
Christmas is 12 days away....
How are you spending it this year? Are you getting carried away by the enthralling Xmas lights, the jingles,and the shopping frenzy that is Mammon Inc's twist on the great day 25 December? Or are you taking this time to ponder on why Jesus was sent to us?
Here in Dili, where no snow falls, a few of us have been busy recreating a white Xmas with paper snowflakes (with used paper no less). The office has plans to visit 2 orphanages to bring some cheer to the kids there and of course, a Xmas party to reward all of us who have worked hard for the kiddies this past year.
These days it's easy to forget the message of Xmas - which is about unconditional love - and indulge in self-love instead.
Make a difference this Xmas.
Don't be shy to spread LOVE.
How are you spending it this year? Are you getting carried away by the enthralling Xmas lights, the jingles,and the shopping frenzy that is Mammon Inc's twist on the great day 25 December? Or are you taking this time to ponder on why Jesus was sent to us?
Here in Dili, where no snow falls, a few of us have been busy recreating a white Xmas with paper snowflakes (with used paper no less). The office has plans to visit 2 orphanages to bring some cheer to the kids there and of course, a Xmas party to reward all of us who have worked hard for the kiddies this past year.
These days it's easy to forget the message of Xmas - which is about unconditional love - and indulge in self-love instead.
Make a difference this Xmas.
Don't be shy to spread LOVE.
Kidding around
Being technologically-challenged, I lack the genius to programme those fancy links to what i wanted to show y'all. But anyways, here are some links of stories i have written recently:
Singapore in 2025 - what will it be like?
Raising up Marta - a cartoon role model for Timorese kids
Eeky worms in da stomach
beating polio
Singapore in 2025 - what will it be like?
Raising up Marta - a cartoon role model for Timorese kids
Eeky worms in da stomach
beating polio
COCKadoodledoo
With the avian flu making more than noses running in the region, everyone’s on a higher alert even here in tiny far away Timor. We’re really in greater danger than most of us realize because East Timor, as its name clearly explains, is only half of an island and as most border experts will let you know, it’s one **LL of a job keeping borders patrolled and under control. Not only do we have people crossing, we also have chickens and ducks and other fowl friends migrating. So if the bird flu does hit our neighbour in the west, the border will be our weakest link.
And so what’s the big deal? The solution seems simple in the more developed countries – kill all chicken in farms, spray copious amounts of disinfectants on cars, people etc, and keep all fowls under nets and shelters. The big deal is… chickens are like Men’s best friends here. Really! I am serious! It’s not uncommon to see men holding and hugging their roosters, while on the bus and in the streets. This is because their roosters are their source of income at cockfights that take place countrywide. It’s an Southeast Asian tradition of letting big cocks fight out each other, with grown up men cheering their fowls and hedging their bets – which can sometimes amount to a lot of money. So yes, these feathered friends are precious income generators and thus are treated with great respect and affection. In fact, I have seen the cocks receiving lots of stroking and massages in the morning “to keep their muscles supple.”
And the biggest threat of bird to human transmission here? Men giving the kiss of life to their cocks when the fowls faint from exhaustion during the fights. I KID YOU NOT. Granted – I have not personally witnessed such an extreme display of affection but I have heard of it many times. Now, with such levels of intimacy, how do you ask these men to slaughter their cocks when bird flu flies into town?
And so what’s the big deal? The solution seems simple in the more developed countries – kill all chicken in farms, spray copious amounts of disinfectants on cars, people etc, and keep all fowls under nets and shelters. The big deal is… chickens are like Men’s best friends here. Really! I am serious! It’s not uncommon to see men holding and hugging their roosters, while on the bus and in the streets. This is because their roosters are their source of income at cockfights that take place countrywide. It’s an Southeast Asian tradition of letting big cocks fight out each other, with grown up men cheering their fowls and hedging their bets – which can sometimes amount to a lot of money. So yes, these feathered friends are precious income generators and thus are treated with great respect and affection. In fact, I have seen the cocks receiving lots of stroking and massages in the morning “to keep their muscles supple.”
And the biggest threat of bird to human transmission here? Men giving the kiss of life to their cocks when the fowls faint from exhaustion during the fights. I KID YOU NOT. Granted – I have not personally witnessed such an extreme display of affection but I have heard of it many times. Now, with such levels of intimacy, how do you ask these men to slaughter their cocks when bird flu flies into town?
Thursday, December 01, 2005
TERMInatTE
Just when i thought i had gotten used to surprises in my room (erhem! not the human kinds), i was introduced to new ones when i arrived home one day to discover a mound of something that resembled loose soil at the corner of my bathroom door. Yes you have already seen that door when my sink fell but no, take a look at this picture!
At first i thought it was a garden elf that lost its way in my room and had accidentally dumped soil and fertilisers there... but peering closer, i saw little itsy bitsy ants moving around busily! Yikes! There was a mixture of soil and gravel like stuff in the mound and i really stood there for a while before it dawned on me -- IT'S A TERMITE NEST! How did it get there? I don't know. I never noticed until today.
I ran for my camera and snapped away but alas was unable to get a real good shot.. i think my hands were shaking with
excitement... and then i ran and called my neighbour to come "see my termite nest!" before calling my landlord and the guy who maintains the place (yes, same guy who cleared up the basin) to see the nest.
Ok, so my neighbour behaved like any gal would, "eee...." she said when she saw the nest. My Vietnamese friends? They looked at it - no sound came out , not a peep - i was craning my ears - i thought this GOT to beat the other surprises! At least, show some expression! But no, they came, they saw, and they conquered the nest with an unglamorous broom and dustpan.
SWEEP SWEEP SWEEP and all the soil was in the dustpan... my floor stained with muddy streaks and footprints... and then they left my room. WAIT - not before saying, "In vietnam also have" and a no-nonsense nod which completely floored me. Ok... there you go, B, shut up! It's just Termites! They won't eat you, they're only interested in WOOD - anyways you stay alone so why worry if the bathroom door disintegrates? Stop being the wimpy city girl and act like you have never seen wildlife!
At first i thought it was a garden elf that lost its way in my room and had accidentally dumped soil and fertilisers there... but peering closer, i saw little itsy bitsy ants moving around busily! Yikes! There was a mixture of soil and gravel like stuff in the mound and i really stood there for a while before it dawned on me -- IT'S A TERMITE NEST! How did it get there? I don't know. I never noticed until today. I ran for my camera and snapped away but alas was unable to get a real good shot.. i think my hands were shaking with
excitement... and then i ran and called my neighbour to come "see my termite nest!" before calling my landlord and the guy who maintains the place (yes, same guy who cleared up the basin) to see the nest.
Ok, so my neighbour behaved like any gal would, "eee...." she said when she saw the nest. My Vietnamese friends? They looked at it - no sound came out , not a peep - i was craning my ears - i thought this GOT to beat the other surprises! At least, show some expression! But no, they came, they saw, and they conquered the nest with an unglamorous broom and dustpan.
SWEEP SWEEP SWEEP and all the soil was in the dustpan... my floor stained with muddy streaks and footprints... and then they left my room. WAIT - not before saying, "In vietnam also have" and a no-nonsense nod which completely floored me. Ok... there you go, B, shut up! It's just Termites! They won't eat you, they're only interested in WOOD - anyways you stay alone so why worry if the bathroom door disintegrates? Stop being the wimpy city girl and act like you have never seen wildlife!
Saturday, November 12, 2005
who can know their pain?
12 november 1991 - a day of horrific bloodshed at the Santa Cruz Cemetery where Indonesian soldiers closed in on Timorese who were mourning the death of Sebastiao Gomes - an 18 year old who was killed 2 weeks before by the Indonesians at Motael Church while protesting for independence. Timorese families lost loved ones and till this day, do not know where they are now. Today there is a huge cross in the Santa Cruz Cemetery where flowers and garlands and candles are offered to the hundreds who were killed and their bodies never found. That massacre has gone down the annals of history and ironically, without the bloodletting, Timor could still now be part of Indonesia.
According to G, Sebastiao's father did not cry when his son was killed, he said his son died a resistance hero. It was because of Sebastiao's death that led to the Indonesian plot to kill all those who gathered at the cemetery - after all, what better time to fire upon thousands of Timorese children, women, men, armed with nothing but kerchiefs and flowers while penned up within the cemetery walls? The guns were fired, people killed, injured, and shanghaied to places that, till now, nobody knows. It is said that 400 people died that day.
Thankfully, there were courageous (or should we say 'crazy') journalists there to record this display of bloodthirstiness. Amongst the many was Max Stahl who is now renowned for showing the world, evidence of the massacre. He buried his videocassette into the ground and handed to the soldiers, blank tapes and his video camera which they broke. Amazingly, his life was spared. To this day, MS remains in Timor dedicated to archiving the country's past and making films to show the new generations of the struggle for freedom. I visited the Santa Cruz Cemetery today - along with hundred others as they took part in a ceremony to remember the massacre. I had always hesitated to visit the cemetery because i did not want to be a disaster/tragedy tourist but today i knew i had to go.
I asked to see Sebastiao's grave and was led there by G. Already, there were flowers and candles placed there, with his photo there - frozen in time - at 18 years old. If he was alive, he would be 33, just a couple of years older than me. But if he were alive, would Timor be a free country? Would i be there at Santa Cruz to visit his grave?
G and I stood under the shade and she began to share her stories for the first time. In 1991, she was only 10 years old and remembered running home from school with her little sister, seeing people with blood a nd wounds on the street. She hid under the bed at home and cried endlessly. Their father had attended the mass that morning to remember Sebastiao and everyone thought he would be dead - like the hundreds lying atop graves at Santa Cruz. When he walked through the door, they were all shocked.
By Providence, he had not joined in the procession but went to buy medicine for G's mother instead. He escaped death. G's family - like many others - were in the resistance, clandestine and overt. Once her father disappeared and for 40 days they could not find him anywhere. On the 40th night, he returned home and they thought they saw his ghost because he was so emaciated, and had a full face of beard. That massacre may be 14 years ago but the pain that remains is indescribable nor fathomable by us.
G said that a friend J had bullets removed from his chest just 3 years ago - bullets that were fired on 12 November 1991. Can you know that pain? For 11 years, those silver nuggets were lodged in his body, reminding him ceaselessly of that day. His flesh may have grown around to bury them but it was impossible. But in contrast, physical pain is the lesser evil compared to mental trauma and anguish. 2 of J's sisters were raped by the soldiers - one died while the other survived. How can you bury that hatred, that anger? How can you look at another Indonesian again and not want to plunge a knife into his heart? But the Timorese have managed to reject that vengeful spirit.
G said, initially they just wanted to kill any Indonesian in sight, but soon, they were able to see where the DEvil really is. In fact, there were many courageous Indonesians too, who stayed on to help the Timorese. Some also worked within the system, by giving information and protecting people. I have met many Indonesians who now call themselves Timorese, speak Tetum and love the country fiercely. They are now working in NGOs to make this country better together. Isn't it such a relief that for every baddie in this world, there are many saints to make this world a sane place?
'Moving on' - how do you do that after such a traumatic past? For some people, 24 years of their lives were dedicated to this resistance. 24 years of clandestine operations, of living in fear, of whispering, of listening for footsteps, of not laughing without a care. How do you put all that aside and 'move on'? It's no wonder, many remain locked inside their minds.
But the majority have managed to laugh again. Sometimes you forget that you are speaking to a people who just bade farewell to violence so recently.
I admire the Timorese. Their resilience overwhelm me. I wish i had a big kerchief to wipe all their tears away and make them smile again. But first we'll need some time to sew that big kerchief.
For an account of what happened that day:
http://www.motherjones.com/news/special_reports/
east_timor/evidence/nairn.html
Friday, November 11, 2005
Foam party in Acanuno
this is a bittersweet moment for me... While this young gal is having foamy fun - like a child - she's also doing the entire household's laundry, like a mother.
this whole week, i have been at a workshop to develop Marta - an animation character - who is meant to be a tool to advocate for girls' rights in Timor.
there are so many issues facing girls here - as with many other societies. Early marriage "kaben sedu" when girls get married off at 14 years; early pregnancy when girls become mothers at 15 or 16 and face high risks because their bodies are too young to sustain such stress; lack of education because girls are the first to drop out of school when the family's too poor, or when she gets married off, or when she has to look after 8 other siblings; etc.
although in TL, there isn't an overt discrimination against girls unlike in China for example, women still face greater challenges than men.
It's especially disheartening when you go to the local markets and see the men gambling with wads of US dollars in their hands, while the womenfolk are sitting on the roadsides and markets selling their produce or wares.
it's not just here in Timor you see such behaviour. In Vietnam, i saw hordes of men drinking coffee at all hours and no women doing so - they were out working in the fields or on the streets peddling their wares.
Someone told me, "we're not trying to bash the men but trying to make life easier for the women."
The men in TL have struggled hard too -for the country's independence but so have the women - they fought alongside as soldiers and clandestine supporters - and also bore children, fed the families and looked after the sick.
WOMEN and MEN were made by God to be companions and to serve GOD together.
this whole week, i have been at a workshop to develop Marta - an animation character - who is meant to be a tool to advocate for girls' rights in Timor.
there are so many issues facing girls here - as with many other societies. Early marriage "kaben sedu" when girls get married off at 14 years; early pregnancy when girls become mothers at 15 or 16 and face high risks because their bodies are too young to sustain such stress; lack of education because girls are the first to drop out of school when the family's too poor, or when she gets married off, or when she has to look after 8 other siblings; etc.
although in TL, there isn't an overt discrimination against girls unlike in China for example, women still face greater challenges than men.
It's especially disheartening when you go to the local markets and see the men gambling with wads of US dollars in their hands, while the womenfolk are sitting on the roadsides and markets selling their produce or wares.
it's not just here in Timor you see such behaviour. In Vietnam, i saw hordes of men drinking coffee at all hours and no women doing so - they were out working in the fields or on the streets peddling their wares.
Someone told me, "we're not trying to bash the men but trying to make life easier for the women."
The men in TL have struggled hard too -for the country's independence but so have the women - they fought alongside as soldiers and clandestine supporters - and also bore children, fed the families and looked after the sick.
WOMEN and MEN were made by God to be companions and to serve GOD together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)