We had this cute cake for reunion dinner on Saturday at Sakura Towers. Yeah, it was hodge podge 'reunion' of Singaporeans and Malaysians working in Timor - from doctors, to volunteers to business people.
The wishing on it was thought up by my mommy! The cake was yummy - fresh cream and strawberry jam inside.
My first thought when I got the cake was, "That's a BL**** rabbit not a dog!" I couldn't believe that the baker had used MY pathetic sample sketch instead of relying on his better sense to put a more canine-looking dog on the cake!
HAPPY NEW YEAR y'all!
The lil tumbleweed
Tuesday, January 31, 2006
Monday, January 30, 2006
surreal sleep
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, November 08, 2005
high heat
the heat in Dili is reaching unbearable heights...
even walking to work at 0730hrs is an ordeal, as the hot sun scorches down mercilessly. i now have to start walking at 0700hrs in order to escape the blinding sun that has been waking up earlier each day.
Somehow Mother Nature has worked it out this way - the heat gets so intolerable, you are happy when the rains come.
You might remember me bemoaning the early onset of rains a few weeks ago but now it is the smell of rain, the rumbling in the skies, and the shady clouds that i most welcome
it's just too hot here - so hot that yesterday, after 3 hours out in a village, i came back with a terrific headache, suffered mild heat exhaustion and puked out my dinner in the middle of the night
i can only imagine those who live without any electricity - how do they bear the heat? the air becomes so still, you feel like a fly in a thick, creamy soup.
in singapore - our solution to heat is hopping from one shopping mall to the next, linked by an endless maze of underpasses that are also airconditioned
LKY was right to say that the airconditioner was the greatest modern invention
arghh
my sweat glands are protesting from overdrive
yucks. tomorrow another day of sweating.
even walking to work at 0730hrs is an ordeal, as the hot sun scorches down mercilessly. i now have to start walking at 0700hrs in order to escape the blinding sun that has been waking up earlier each day.
Somehow Mother Nature has worked it out this way - the heat gets so intolerable, you are happy when the rains come.
You might remember me bemoaning the early onset of rains a few weeks ago but now it is the smell of rain, the rumbling in the skies, and the shady clouds that i most welcome
it's just too hot here - so hot that yesterday, after 3 hours out in a village, i came back with a terrific headache, suffered mild heat exhaustion and puked out my dinner in the middle of the night
i can only imagine those who live without any electricity - how do they bear the heat? the air becomes so still, you feel like a fly in a thick, creamy soup.
in singapore - our solution to heat is hopping from one shopping mall to the next, linked by an endless maze of underpasses that are also airconditioned
LKY was right to say that the airconditioner was the greatest modern invention
arghh
my sweat glands are protesting from overdrive
yucks. tomorrow another day of sweating.
Friday, November 04, 2005
festival of lights
i went to a Diwali celebration hosted by 2 indian couples and a German couple - all of whom are from or had stayed on the Indian Continent for years. We had great vegetarian food (which i now wished i had photographed but i was too busy gorging myself) and a wonderful evening sitting in Elke's backyard which was bathed in soft lights emanating from cute chinese lanterns and dragonflies, while the garden was lined with flickering candles.
I was reminded of that incredibly romantic scene in The English Patient when the Sikh soldier lit up shells filled with oil for the nurse on her birthday. Aw....
But what struck me most that night was that it was my first Diwali celebration! Now how could that have been? I was celebrating Diwali in a mostly Catholic country where there were maybe 20 Indians in total while i have never joined in festivities in Singapore? Why is that so?
It's sobering to think that despite being so famously multicultural, the mix of ethnicities and races in Singapore is still less than desired.
I remember my former Malay neighbours in Bedok South who would invite us for kueh kueh whenever they celebrated festivals - and it was pretty often. I was a greedy young child (and still is!) so I always looked forward to an invitation to a feast.
Alas, after moving to a bigger apartment in Bedok North (yes, still in the east) those neighbourly relations have disappeared. Most people prefer to keep their doors shut and less keen to chit chat and get to know each other. Thankfully a new neighbour with 3 grandkids have moved in and our families have become closer.
Well, returning to that point about friends of other ethnicities. I have realised for some time now that i have few friends who are Malay or Indian. There were a few at work and an even fewer in my inner circle. Why?
Hmm... ain't got no answer for that yet. i'm going to mull over that longer.
I was reminded of that incredibly romantic scene in The English Patient when the Sikh soldier lit up shells filled with oil for the nurse on her birthday. Aw....
But what struck me most that night was that it was my first Diwali celebration! Now how could that have been? I was celebrating Diwali in a mostly Catholic country where there were maybe 20 Indians in total while i have never joined in festivities in Singapore? Why is that so? It's sobering to think that despite being so famously multicultural, the mix of ethnicities and races in Singapore is still less than desired.
I remember my former Malay neighbours in Bedok South who would invite us for kueh kueh whenever they celebrated festivals - and it was pretty often. I was a greedy young child (and still is!) so I always looked forward to an invitation to a feast.
Alas, after moving to a bigger apartment in Bedok North (yes, still in the east) those neighbourly relations have disappeared. Most people prefer to keep their doors shut and less keen to chit chat and get to know each other. Thankfully a new neighbour with 3 grandkids have moved in and our families have become closer.
Well, returning to that point about friends of other ethnicities. I have realised for some time now that i have few friends who are Malay or Indian. There were a few at work and an even fewer in my inner circle. Why? Hmm... ain't got no answer for that yet. i'm going to mull over that longer.
Monday, October 31, 2005
VERIFY your facts!
i received three of the same SMS today:
"Please pray for PASTOR Ferdie Flores, missionary in East Timor. He is going to be executed tomorrow by beating. Please forward to all Christians."
True or false? Well, being here in Timor Leste meant that i could verify the facts immediately by a) asking my timorese friends "Do you have capital punishment that uses beating to kill prisoners???" b) scanning the national newspapers c) asking my Timorese friends "have you heard of a pastor who will be killed tomorrow?"
the answer is NO. THIS IS A BIG rumour started by a certain person and innocently propagated by some of my dear friends.
I did some online checks and realised that there is indeed a website of this pastor and his family. On it, he recounts some threats he had faced but right on top of this was a BRIGHT YELLOW crawler that said "recent reports about impending execution are inaccurate". SO yes, this pastor probably met with some fanatics but he wasn't about to be beaten to death. I know there are many cases of religious being persecuted (all over the world) but sending an SMS such as the one above gives a very wrong impression. It sounded as if it was a LEGAL government-sanctioned killing.
Timor-Leste is trying to progress as a civilised nation. In fact, it ranked higher than many other countries on press freedom recently. SUch rumours would only cause people to think that our lil island is still crawling with barbarians. Yes, to be honest, there are still many animists and people living in the bush, and yes, horrific things have happened here before but still... let's give Timor a chance to breath.
I don't want to sound like a skeptic and I know you have good intentions but...please verify your facts before passing on messages.
Just like those inumerable appeals for blood and platelets - if we stop to verify the REAL cases, then the genuine victims will receive prompt help. This is the case of "Cry WOLF" where people no longer take appeals seriously.
As a former journalist, my advice is also never to believe any piece of information 100% because truth has many facets and many times news organisations and people (due to commercial or partisan interests) report only their side of the truth. They ain't lying but just not telling the whole truth. Anyways, this could lead to a thesis on debating what TRUTH really is and that's too philosophical for a Monday afternoon.
Just be discerning and yes, also stop forwarding those "YOU CAN WIN AN IPOD" kinda emails cos all those people want is emails of your friends so that they can spam them in future. Do check your facts - it'll take only 5 minutes.
"Please pray for PASTOR Ferdie Flores, missionary in East Timor. He is going to be executed tomorrow by beating. Please forward to all Christians."
True or false? Well, being here in Timor Leste meant that i could verify the facts immediately by a) asking my timorese friends "Do you have capital punishment that uses beating to kill prisoners???" b) scanning the national newspapers c) asking my Timorese friends "have you heard of a pastor who will be killed tomorrow?"
the answer is NO. THIS IS A BIG rumour started by a certain person and innocently propagated by some of my dear friends.
I did some online checks and realised that there is indeed a website of this pastor and his family. On it, he recounts some threats he had faced but right on top of this was a BRIGHT YELLOW crawler that said "recent reports about impending execution are inaccurate". SO yes, this pastor probably met with some fanatics but he wasn't about to be beaten to death. I know there are many cases of religious being persecuted (all over the world) but sending an SMS such as the one above gives a very wrong impression. It sounded as if it was a LEGAL government-sanctioned killing.
Timor-Leste is trying to progress as a civilised nation. In fact, it ranked higher than many other countries on press freedom recently. SUch rumours would only cause people to think that our lil island is still crawling with barbarians. Yes, to be honest, there are still many animists and people living in the bush, and yes, horrific things have happened here before but still... let's give Timor a chance to breath.
I don't want to sound like a skeptic and I know you have good intentions but...please verify your facts before passing on messages.
Just like those inumerable appeals for blood and platelets - if we stop to verify the REAL cases, then the genuine victims will receive prompt help. This is the case of "Cry WOLF" where people no longer take appeals seriously.
As a former journalist, my advice is also never to believe any piece of information 100% because truth has many facets and many times news organisations and people (due to commercial or partisan interests) report only their side of the truth. They ain't lying but just not telling the whole truth. Anyways, this could lead to a thesis on debating what TRUTH really is and that's too philosophical for a Monday afternoon.
Just be discerning and yes, also stop forwarding those "YOU CAN WIN AN IPOD" kinda emails cos all those people want is emails of your friends so that they can spam them in future. Do check your facts - it'll take only 5 minutes.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Pieces
The washbasin came down with a mighty crash.For a split second, time stood still. I saw the porcelain basin smash into smithereens - pieces flying in slow motion. Slightly shocked, I stepped away instinctively.
But it was too late - a river of red had begun to flow beneath my feet.
I sighed. I knew I had been cut but the signals of pain had not yet travelled to my brain. This was going to be an eventful shower. What to do now? I tried to get out of the way, but it was tough considering that I was still soaped and slippery. Thankfully I had my contact lenses on so I wasn’t blind as a bat. I spotted my glasses lying in the broken pile and rescued it first.
The red river was gaining momentum. I lifted up my left foot and saw a pulsating wound. I sprayed it with water but the blood kept flowing.
“Remember to lift up the injured part to stop the blood flowing”
One piece of advice I am glad I remembered from my first aid course. Hopping on one leg, I curled up my left leg behind me. I must have looked hilarious if not for the blood streaming down. I kept saying to myself, calm down gal. Don’t panic. It’s just a little blood.But the blood wouldn’t stop.
“put pressure on the wound to stop the blood flowing”
A second piece of advice I am thankful I remembered.I pressed my left thumb firmly onto the wound on my left sole, while at the same time holding on to the shower head with my right arm. Bless my right leg for all the balancing work and thank goodness for the yoga classes. The blood began to decrease and trickled to a stop. I showered off the rest of the soap, grabbed my towel and hopped out of the bathroom, leaving spots of blood on the floor.
I plonked onto a chair and lifted up my foot, at that time, I realized that my right big toe was cut too! So there I was- stark naked- with BOTH my feet up in the air.
After a few seconds, the blood clotting mechanisms finally kicked in. Still looking like a duffus, I looked around and saw that the swivel chair was at arm’s length.
I tugged it towards me and hopped onto it and then rolled over to my wardrobe in search of my first aid kit. I cleaned the wounds and poured on some Yunnan Baiyao (Yunnan White Medicine). This Baiyao is considered a cure-all in China so this would be a good test to see if the claims are true.
With my cuts plastered up, and big toe throbbing, I rolled around the room, cleaning up the mess, and even had the state of mind to remove my undies from the toilet before summoning the maintenance guy – Naier – into my room. I didn’t clean up the spots of blood on the floor though. I thought I should spice up Anna’s cleaning routine the next day.
I stared at the big gauze on the bottom of my left foot (3 cuts) and the plaster on my big toe (one cut), satisfitied with my first aid. Naier took some time to extricate the washbasin (in its thousand pieces) from the pipes and then so sweetly cleaned up the bathroom. I ate some self made yoghurt (which I was supposed to blog about until this accident happened) while waiting for him to finish.
At first I thought it was purely my fault for causing the basin to fall but the smashed up pieces revealed rusty and rotted parts which would have broken sooner or later.
So what was i doing to cause the basin to fall? 'Proper' and 'Standard' writing would demand that i reveal this so as to complete the picture but i think i am taking the suspense mystery route and will keep that piece of information to myself -just so that the next time you see me you can ask me why.
Have a safe and painFREE shower today!
But it was too late - a river of red had begun to flow beneath my feet.
I sighed. I knew I had been cut but the signals of pain had not yet travelled to my brain. This was going to be an eventful shower. What to do now? I tried to get out of the way, but it was tough considering that I was still soaped and slippery. Thankfully I had my contact lenses on so I wasn’t blind as a bat. I spotted my glasses lying in the broken pile and rescued it first.
The red river was gaining momentum. I lifted up my left foot and saw a pulsating wound. I sprayed it with water but the blood kept flowing.
“Remember to lift up the injured part to stop the blood flowing”
One piece of advice I am glad I remembered from my first aid course. Hopping on one leg, I curled up my left leg behind me. I must have looked hilarious if not for the blood streaming down. I kept saying to myself, calm down gal. Don’t panic. It’s just a little blood.But the blood wouldn’t stop.
“put pressure on the wound to stop the blood flowing”
A second piece of advice I am thankful I remembered.I pressed my left thumb firmly onto the wound on my left sole, while at the same time holding on to the shower head with my right arm. Bless my right leg for all the balancing work and thank goodness for the yoga classes. The blood began to decrease and trickled to a stop. I showered off the rest of the soap, grabbed my towel and hopped out of the bathroom, leaving spots of blood on the floor.
I plonked onto a chair and lifted up my foot, at that time, I realized that my right big toe was cut too! So there I was- stark naked- with BOTH my feet up in the air.
After a few seconds, the blood clotting mechanisms finally kicked in. Still looking like a duffus, I looked around and saw that the swivel chair was at arm’s length.
I tugged it towards me and hopped onto it and then rolled over to my wardrobe in search of my first aid kit. I cleaned the wounds and poured on some Yunnan Baiyao (Yunnan White Medicine). This Baiyao is considered a cure-all in China so this would be a good test to see if the claims are true.
With my cuts plastered up, and big toe throbbing, I rolled around the room, cleaning up the mess, and even had the state of mind to remove my undies from the toilet before summoning the maintenance guy – Naier – into my room. I didn’t clean up the spots of blood on the floor though. I thought I should spice up Anna’s cleaning routine the next day.
I stared at the big gauze on the bottom of my left foot (3 cuts) and the plaster on my big toe (one cut), satisfitied with my first aid. Naier took some time to extricate the washbasin (in its thousand pieces) from the pipes and then so sweetly cleaned up the bathroom. I ate some self made yoghurt (which I was supposed to blog about until this accident happened) while waiting for him to finish.
At first I thought it was purely my fault for causing the basin to fall but the smashed up pieces revealed rusty and rotted parts which would have broken sooner or later.
So what was i doing to cause the basin to fall? 'Proper' and 'Standard' writing would demand that i reveal this so as to complete the picture but i think i am taking the suspense mystery route and will keep that piece of information to myself -just so that the next time you see me you can ask me why.
Have a safe and painFREE shower today!
Wednesday, October 19, 2005
Tale of the Lafaek
A long time ago, a small boy found a crocodile struggling to make his way from the lagoon where he was born, to the sea. Suppressing his fear of the crocodile, and out of great pity, the boy took the crocodile in his arms and carried him to the seashore.
The crocodile, although very hungry and needing sustenance, suppressed his urge to eat the boy and instead returned the act of great kindness with a promise. He told the boy that should he ever wish to travel he should come back to the same spot and call to the crocodile.
After a while and during a period of restlessness the boy remembered the crocodile’s promise and went to the sea to call for him. True to his word the crocodile returned.
They were both very happy to be reunited with one another. The boy climbed onto the crocodile’s back and together they travelled far and wide experiencing many great adventures together.
Much time passed and the crocodile was nearing the end of his life. The boy was stricken with grief for his great friend. Sensing this, the crocodile comforted the boy and asked him not to be sad. The crocodile told him that when he died his body would grow into an island on which the boy would continue to live, along with his family and all his descendants.
The crocodile died and became the island of Timor. The descendants
inherited the boy’s qualities of kindness, friendliness and sense of justice. To this day the people of Timor call the crocodile “grandfather” and whenever they come across a river call out “Crocodile, I’m your grandchild, don’t eat me!”
----- Extracted from "Biblioteka ba ne’ebé? Libraries where you going?" Notes from a study tour of libraries in East Timor by Patti Manolis July 2005
When I was in Suai, my Timorese companions really did call the crocodile by the more affectionate “Avoo” or “Aboo” which means Grandfather, instead of its proper term “lafaek.” Timorese also believe that if you are goodhearted like the little boy, your ‘Avoo’ would never bite you. So if you are ever bitten by a croc in Timor, it’s because you ain’t so kind and ‘Avoo’ is punishing you. Tough luck, huh?
The crocodile, although very hungry and needing sustenance, suppressed his urge to eat the boy and instead returned the act of great kindness with a promise. He told the boy that should he ever wish to travel he should come back to the same spot and call to the crocodile.
After a while and during a period of restlessness the boy remembered the crocodile’s promise and went to the sea to call for him. True to his word the crocodile returned.
They were both very happy to be reunited with one another. The boy climbed onto the crocodile’s back and together they travelled far and wide experiencing many great adventures together.
Much time passed and the crocodile was nearing the end of his life. The boy was stricken with grief for his great friend. Sensing this, the crocodile comforted the boy and asked him not to be sad. The crocodile told him that when he died his body would grow into an island on which the boy would continue to live, along with his family and all his descendants.
The crocodile died and became the island of Timor. The descendants
inherited the boy’s qualities of kindness, friendliness and sense of justice. To this day the people of Timor call the crocodile “grandfather” and whenever they come across a river call out “Crocodile, I’m your grandchild, don’t eat me!”
----- Extracted from "Biblioteka ba ne’ebé? Libraries where you going?" Notes from a study tour of libraries in East Timor by Patti Manolis July 2005
When I was in Suai, my Timorese companions really did call the crocodile by the more affectionate “Avoo” or “Aboo” which means Grandfather, instead of its proper term “lafaek.” Timorese also believe that if you are goodhearted like the little boy, your ‘Avoo’ would never bite you. So if you are ever bitten by a croc in Timor, it’s because you ain’t so kind and ‘Avoo’ is punishing you. Tough luck, huh?
Friday, October 14, 2005
black hole
They always happen at the most inappropriate times. It’s like someone with a bad sense of humour has timed them so perfectly - I am talking about the blackouts in Dili. Because whenever I am deeply absorbed in a movie on HBO and the film reaches a climax, there would be a power outage.
Zap!
My whole compound falls into darkness and the last scene on the tv screen gets swallowed up into a dark hole. I don’t move because I cannot see nought. I just wait for the guy in charge to kickstart the generator for backup power. I hear the engine’s roar as it wakes up from its slumber, and then seconds later power returns to the room. By now, I know that what will greet me on Channel 7 is a blank screen and not the film I had been watching. I sigh and wish that the landlord had been watching the same channel because then he would switch it back to HBO. But alas, most times, that screen stays blank for the rest of the night.
I am left feeling cheated not knowing how the movie ends. Blackouts can be so frustrating and they happen almost everyday here. This is why malaes (foreigners) like me pay a fortune to stay in places that have their own generators so that we can have backup power almost immediately. For the locals, they just light their candles.
Outside Dili, most places are in a permanent state of blackouts. They have no electricity in the day, let alone at night. Some locals have wryly commented that this is why they have such high birth rates (more than 7 babies per women!) since there are no other forms of nocturnal activities except for you know what.
So in the districts, there are no fans whirring overhead to cool you down in the day, no ice cold beer or coca cola to relieve the heat, and no power to start a computer. In some places, the power does come on in the evenings from 6pm and lasts till midnight.
This lack of electricity is hard to imagine for city rats like us who depend so heavily on power in our homes and in our industries that are now running round-the-clock shifts or brokerage firms working to other time zones. The last time we had a major power outage, hundreds of thousand dollars were lost as businesses were disrupted and ornamental fish asphyxiated from the lack of pumped oxygen.
In Dili, there are no street lights so when I walk home from work at about 7pm, I depend on the headlights of vehicles that zoom past me. I have to look carefully to avoid falling into potholes and sometimes I wonder if the cars can see me as they whiz by.
My city eyes fail me here. I am uneasy with the darkness. City rats like bright lights and neon signs. We feel safer when night is like day. Maybe we don’t eat enough carrots back home but Timorese seem to be able to navigate easily even while walking in pitch darkness. I remember the Tibetans doing the same too – slicing, grinding and cooking their meals in such dimness. When I ate dinner in remote villages in China, they used to light a bark just for me while they carried on in darkness.
I can’t help thinking if man never discovered fire and subsequently electricity and lamps, where would we be now? I remember how I went to bed at 730pm, once in China because there was no electricity and hence nothing to do. I wonder how the economy and standard of living of Timorese would be like once they have power at night? I naively thought that power at night would mean more children reading and doing homework but my Timorese colleague just said, “Nah, everyone will just watch TV.” I think Singaporean kids would head for their Playstations first.
Zap!
My whole compound falls into darkness and the last scene on the tv screen gets swallowed up into a dark hole. I don’t move because I cannot see nought. I just wait for the guy in charge to kickstart the generator for backup power. I hear the engine’s roar as it wakes up from its slumber, and then seconds later power returns to the room. By now, I know that what will greet me on Channel 7 is a blank screen and not the film I had been watching. I sigh and wish that the landlord had been watching the same channel because then he would switch it back to HBO. But alas, most times, that screen stays blank for the rest of the night.
I am left feeling cheated not knowing how the movie ends. Blackouts can be so frustrating and they happen almost everyday here. This is why malaes (foreigners) like me pay a fortune to stay in places that have their own generators so that we can have backup power almost immediately. For the locals, they just light their candles.
Outside Dili, most places are in a permanent state of blackouts. They have no electricity in the day, let alone at night. Some locals have wryly commented that this is why they have such high birth rates (more than 7 babies per women!) since there are no other forms of nocturnal activities except for you know what.
So in the districts, there are no fans whirring overhead to cool you down in the day, no ice cold beer or coca cola to relieve the heat, and no power to start a computer. In some places, the power does come on in the evenings from 6pm and lasts till midnight.
This lack of electricity is hard to imagine for city rats like us who depend so heavily on power in our homes and in our industries that are now running round-the-clock shifts or brokerage firms working to other time zones. The last time we had a major power outage, hundreds of thousand dollars were lost as businesses were disrupted and ornamental fish asphyxiated from the lack of pumped oxygen.
In Dili, there are no street lights so when I walk home from work at about 7pm, I depend on the headlights of vehicles that zoom past me. I have to look carefully to avoid falling into potholes and sometimes I wonder if the cars can see me as they whiz by.
My city eyes fail me here. I am uneasy with the darkness. City rats like bright lights and neon signs. We feel safer when night is like day. Maybe we don’t eat enough carrots back home but Timorese seem to be able to navigate easily even while walking in pitch darkness. I remember the Tibetans doing the same too – slicing, grinding and cooking their meals in such dimness. When I ate dinner in remote villages in China, they used to light a bark just for me while they carried on in darkness.
I can’t help thinking if man never discovered fire and subsequently electricity and lamps, where would we be now? I remember how I went to bed at 730pm, once in China because there was no electricity and hence nothing to do. I wonder how the economy and standard of living of Timorese would be like once they have power at night? I naively thought that power at night would mean more children reading and doing homework but my Timorese colleague just said, “Nah, everyone will just watch TV.” I think Singaporean kids would head for their Playstations first.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
LOST & found
It poured when I was in Aileu recently - a harbinger of the rainy season to come. The kids, like those in Cambodia, were splashing in the puddles of water, getting soaked and having much unrestrained fun. I had fun too, watching them under shelter.
The next day when I was about to return to Dili, I lost a purse which I had bought from Cambodia. It simply vanished into thin air. Poof! Like someone had conjured it to another dimension. Even after re-tracing my steps countless times, I was still unable to locate it. It’s a mystery where the little purse went.
I didn’t cry over the purse that went walking with $40, but the loss did put me in a contemplative mood. It made me think of all the things I have lost in the 30 years I have walked on this Earth: pencils in primary school; pens in secondary school; books in junior college; and files in university, etc. There were also friendships lost when pals became strangers as we grew older, and the loss of loved ones when they bade farewell for a better world.
More importantly - and predictably too – the loss of innocence: from carefree bookworm days to stressful adulthood; from a head of black, bouncy hair to graying hairs covered up with poisonous dyes. I no longer have the innocence of a child who finds pure happiness in pouring rain.
While auditing my losses, I realized that they are small, even minuscule, compared to what others have lost or are losing as we speak: the floods in Guatemala, the hurricane in New Orleans, the earthquake in Pakistan, the tsunami in Asia, the bombs in Bali & many other places.
But above all, I realized that the inputs in the column ‘FOUND’ are plentiful as well. On this journey (destination unknown) I have found many new friends, amazing experiences, wisdom, and optimism in each new day. I have found, through painful experiences of loss, richer insights and a grittier spirit. It sounds idealistic - I wouldn’t dare try telling this to someone who has just lost a child in the earthquake. But honestly, while taking stock of my life, I realize that I do have a lot of blessings to count for.
As Tiu (Uncle) Mario – my driver – said to me when I lost the wallet, “It’s ok. The loss is in exchange for good luck.”
Do you wake up each day counting your blessings or your losses?
The next day when I was about to return to Dili, I lost a purse which I had bought from Cambodia. It simply vanished into thin air. Poof! Like someone had conjured it to another dimension. Even after re-tracing my steps countless times, I was still unable to locate it. It’s a mystery where the little purse went.
I didn’t cry over the purse that went walking with $40, but the loss did put me in a contemplative mood. It made me think of all the things I have lost in the 30 years I have walked on this Earth: pencils in primary school; pens in secondary school; books in junior college; and files in university, etc. There were also friendships lost when pals became strangers as we grew older, and the loss of loved ones when they bade farewell for a better world.
More importantly - and predictably too – the loss of innocence: from carefree bookworm days to stressful adulthood; from a head of black, bouncy hair to graying hairs covered up with poisonous dyes. I no longer have the innocence of a child who finds pure happiness in pouring rain.
While auditing my losses, I realized that they are small, even minuscule, compared to what others have lost or are losing as we speak: the floods in Guatemala, the hurricane in New Orleans, the earthquake in Pakistan, the tsunami in Asia, the bombs in Bali & many other places.
But above all, I realized that the inputs in the column ‘FOUND’ are plentiful as well. On this journey (destination unknown) I have found many new friends, amazing experiences, wisdom, and optimism in each new day. I have found, through painful experiences of loss, richer insights and a grittier spirit. It sounds idealistic - I wouldn’t dare try telling this to someone who has just lost a child in the earthquake. But honestly, while taking stock of my life, I realize that I do have a lot of blessings to count for.
As Tiu (Uncle) Mario – my driver – said to me when I lost the wallet, “It’s ok. The loss is in exchange for good luck.”
Do you wake up each day counting your blessings or your losses?
Monday, October 10, 2005
SWAT team
I scoffed at the idea when L first shared it with me after observing his Timorese counterparts in the office - now I am convinced there is only ONE way to kill a Timorese mosquito swiftly.
The method:
Result : Dead mossie
Would it work in Singapore? Can someone try it out?
The method:
See the buzzing mossie fly past you
Observe its motion
Raise hand ABOVE the mossie and slap it onto the ground
Mossie is dazed and stunned and lies on floor
Raise foot and stamp on it
Result : Dead mossie
Would it work in Singapore? Can someone try it out?
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
world peace?
My aunt once said the world would never find peace until men fell at their women's feet and asked for forgiveness.
Jack Kerouac
Monday, October 03, 2005
imagination - taking off
Last week, an American millionaire became the third person in the world to board a Russian spaceshuttle as a space tourist.
He paid $11million or so to spend 10 days up in space.
Wow huh. He must have SO much money that he can spare this pittance for a jaunt in the air.
For me, i am waiting for the day when an ANTI-GRAVITY pill is invented. I'm sure Salman Rushdie's not the first person to think of such an invention but when i was reading 'Shame' last night, the thought of becoming anti-gravity suddenly became so alluring.
The prolific and very humourous Rushdie asks in chapter 3, "What if such a pill were invented?"
Ah... I began to think: "Yes, what if?" I bet I would be popping those pills and flying to the ends of the world. North, south, east, west, it would be a travel fest! I would fly up to Mount Ramelau - the highest mountain in Timor Leste first and then east towards the Polynesian islands and into Hawaii onto Mauna Kea - the highest mountain in the Pacific Ocean and then to the South Pole - tierra del fuego - and over to ........ where ever!
Rushdie further espotulates, "personalized international travel could be made possible by manufacturing pills of different strengths for different lengths of journey."
Wow! incredible. I would fly, fly, fly to see all my friends around the world. I could fly back to Singapore for a teh tarik, to my granma's place to say Hi, fly over the treetop walk and then zip back to Dili on Monday for work.
But then, imagine the number of flying people in the air. Predictably - either the pills have to be super expensive OR the airways will get jammed with all sorts of flying human beings zipping in all different directions! the ambulance services of the world would be busy picking up humans who drop like flies after mid-air collisions, or when their pills run outta juice.
of course, then, like the iPOD, you have to invent all kinds of accessories to go with the pill. A sleek flying garment to protect you in case you fall straight into the Indian Ocean, a waterproof pocket to keep the extra pills, the sunglasses to protect your eyes, and special heat proof hat so you won't melt like Icarus' wings did.
So if you had a AGP (Anti-Gravity Pill) where would you fly to first?
He paid $11million or so to spend 10 days up in space.
Wow huh. He must have SO much money that he can spare this pittance for a jaunt in the air.
For me, i am waiting for the day when an ANTI-GRAVITY pill is invented. I'm sure Salman Rushdie's not the first person to think of such an invention but when i was reading 'Shame' last night, the thought of becoming anti-gravity suddenly became so alluring.
The prolific and very humourous Rushdie asks in chapter 3, "What if such a pill were invented?"
Ah... I began to think: "Yes, what if?" I bet I would be popping those pills and flying to the ends of the world. North, south, east, west, it would be a travel fest! I would fly up to Mount Ramelau - the highest mountain in Timor Leste first and then east towards the Polynesian islands and into Hawaii onto Mauna Kea - the highest mountain in the Pacific Ocean and then to the South Pole - tierra del fuego - and over to ........ where ever!
Rushdie further espotulates, "personalized international travel could be made possible by manufacturing pills of different strengths for different lengths of journey."
Wow! incredible. I would fly, fly, fly to see all my friends around the world. I could fly back to Singapore for a teh tarik, to my granma's place to say Hi, fly over the treetop walk and then zip back to Dili on Monday for work.
But then, imagine the number of flying people in the air. Predictably - either the pills have to be super expensive OR the airways will get jammed with all sorts of flying human beings zipping in all different directions! the ambulance services of the world would be busy picking up humans who drop like flies after mid-air collisions, or when their pills run outta juice.
of course, then, like the iPOD, you have to invent all kinds of accessories to go with the pill. A sleek flying garment to protect you in case you fall straight into the Indian Ocean, a waterproof pocket to keep the extra pills, the sunglasses to protect your eyes, and special heat proof hat so you won't melt like Icarus' wings did.
So if you had a AGP (Anti-Gravity Pill) where would you fly to first?
Sunday, September 25, 2005
I found Nemo today...
We had a most awesome start to a Sunday today! My boss and her hubby brought IR and I to Dili Rocks - a rock outcrop just west of Dili to snorkel this morning.
We met up with E and her family and had a great one hour out there floating above reef and colourful fishes. I was reminded of my weekly snorkelling sessions at Hanuama Bay in Hawaii. Then, we used to get out every Wednesday afternoon, take a bus (for one hour!) before getting to the Bay which would sometimes be crawling with Japanese tourists in lifesaving jackets. The lifeguards in Hawaii were always hunky, with a surfboard at their side, ready to dash out to sea to rescue those stranded outside the reef break and unable to swim back because of the strong rip tide.
But no, here in Dili there are no hunky, oiled lifeguards in Oakleys staring out to sea for your safety. Sometimes there are two or three young boys who go fishing with their spears.
Here in Dili, there are no public buses that stop at the snorkelling spots like in Hawaii. So you either gotta drive or pay a taxi to get there - but wait, how about going back then? So yeah, without a car or a trusty taxi driver, you're pretty much stranded in Dili town with nothing very much to do - except mebbe marketing and playing badminton. So i'm really thankful for those who have kindly allowed me to hop onto their cars.
Yesterday, IR and I went swimming at Timor Lodge. YOu pay USD5 to use the pool but you can order a sandwich or something of that same value. So we decided to just splurge a little in order to get some exercise.
This week in UNICEF, we had 3 days of a Country Programme Planning conference where we got all out partners and government counterparts to sitdown to confirm the office's plans for 2006-2007. I'm glad we have roped in these partners to brainstorm ideas cos no NGO should ever work solo. So yeah, you get the drift. The office bit of work wasn't that exciting this week compared to the snorkelling!
We met up with E and her family and had a great one hour out there floating above reef and colourful fishes. I was reminded of my weekly snorkelling sessions at Hanuama Bay in Hawaii. Then, we used to get out every Wednesday afternoon, take a bus (for one hour!) before getting to the Bay which would sometimes be crawling with Japanese tourists in lifesaving jackets. The lifeguards in Hawaii were always hunky, with a surfboard at their side, ready to dash out to sea to rescue those stranded outside the reef break and unable to swim back because of the strong rip tide.
But no, here in Dili there are no hunky, oiled lifeguards in Oakleys staring out to sea for your safety. Sometimes there are two or three young boys who go fishing with their spears.
Here in Dili, there are no public buses that stop at the snorkelling spots like in Hawaii. So you either gotta drive or pay a taxi to get there - but wait, how about going back then? So yeah, without a car or a trusty taxi driver, you're pretty much stranded in Dili town with nothing very much to do - except mebbe marketing and playing badminton. So i'm really thankful for those who have kindly allowed me to hop onto their cars.
Yesterday, IR and I went swimming at Timor Lodge. YOu pay USD5 to use the pool but you can order a sandwich or something of that same value. So we decided to just splurge a little in order to get some exercise.
This week in UNICEF, we had 3 days of a Country Programme Planning conference where we got all out partners and government counterparts to sitdown to confirm the office's plans for 2006-2007. I'm glad we have roped in these partners to brainstorm ideas cos no NGO should ever work solo. So yeah, you get the drift. The office bit of work wasn't that exciting this week compared to the snorkelling!
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
so much to do, so little time
sometimes i wish i have 48 hours in a day or that every year has 24 months. Don't you?
I turn 30 next month. It seems like a lot of years to be on this earth, and yet, I feel like i am just beginning to learn to walk and run! The possibilities of what next to do seem endless. but time waits for no man or woman. It's just going tick-tock tick-tock all the time. Is there a way to freeze time? (or my ovaries? LOL)
"Many things can wait; the child cannot….To him, we cannot say tomorrow; his name is today." - Gabriela Mistral
How true this quote is. Sometimes i wish that i had begun venturing out earlier. But then, when i look back at my 4 years in news, I realise how invaluable the experience was. And would I be the same person i am now if i did not see Chile, myanmar or tibet? I guess God does work at His own pace.
And to QY who lamented on his blog about wishing to be OUT there doing stuff - patience. You don't know how many times i asked myself why i never thought of studying to be a doctor or a nurse so that i can really save lives with my hands. So your turn will come but keep the flame burning!
We can't rush things, but we can seize every moment. That famous quote from the film Dead Poets' Society comes to mind : "Suck the marrow out of life."
In Singapore, that would be "have you savoured any tulang of life lately?"
I turn 30 next month. It seems like a lot of years to be on this earth, and yet, I feel like i am just beginning to learn to walk and run! The possibilities of what next to do seem endless. but time waits for no man or woman. It's just going tick-tock tick-tock all the time. Is there a way to freeze time? (or my ovaries? LOL)
"Many things can wait; the child cannot….To him, we cannot say tomorrow; his name is today." - Gabriela Mistral
How true this quote is. Sometimes i wish that i had begun venturing out earlier. But then, when i look back at my 4 years in news, I realise how invaluable the experience was. And would I be the same person i am now if i did not see Chile, myanmar or tibet? I guess God does work at His own pace.
And to QY who lamented on his blog about wishing to be OUT there doing stuff - patience. You don't know how many times i asked myself why i never thought of studying to be a doctor or a nurse so that i can really save lives with my hands. So your turn will come but keep the flame burning!
We can't rush things, but we can seize every moment. That famous quote from the film Dead Poets' Society comes to mind : "Suck the marrow out of life."
In Singapore, that would be "have you savoured any tulang of life lately?"
Monday, September 19, 2005
hardship posting?
...hardly!
before i arrived here, some people asked me worriedly if i would be able to cope with being in TL for 10 months at a stretch. Honestly, because i had never been to TL before , i did not know the full answer to that - then. I knew that i was used to being on my own overseas and that i would do ok without the creature comforts of malls and cinemas.
Little did i know HOW much i would love it here. So no, there ain't any hardship involved here. Just a lot of astounding sunsets, sunrises, misty mountains and lovely children. I have time to read, to contemplate and to enjoy a certain quality of life while working 8-530pm every day. Life is a lot slower and less stressful.
The only thing i really miss now is my ultimate frisbee games at Bishan and Bugis. Oh, and the sarabat stalls with their teh-cino and teh tarik. Hmm.. and maybe the facials? :-)
before i arrived here, some people asked me worriedly if i would be able to cope with being in TL for 10 months at a stretch. Honestly, because i had never been to TL before , i did not know the full answer to that - then. I knew that i was used to being on my own overseas and that i would do ok without the creature comforts of malls and cinemas.
Little did i know HOW much i would love it here. So no, there ain't any hardship involved here. Just a lot of astounding sunsets, sunrises, misty mountains and lovely children. I have time to read, to contemplate and to enjoy a certain quality of life while working 8-530pm every day. Life is a lot slower and less stressful.
The only thing i really miss now is my ultimate frisbee games at Bishan and Bugis. Oh, and the sarabat stalls with their teh-cino and teh tarik. Hmm.. and maybe the facials? :-)
Thursday, September 08, 2005
HIGHway to jakarta
There used to be 2 'high' ways to Jakarta in the district of Ainaro, Timor Leste.
This was during the time when Timor was fighting for independence, and soldiers used to send freedom fighters to 'Jakarta' by pushing them over the cliffs, to their deaths. Their wives would be told : "Your husband has gone to Jakarta". To this day, you will still find bones of those who were sent a-flying at the bottom of the cliffs, and many people still stop by Jakarta 1 and Jakarta 2 to pay their respects. It's chilling to imagine that these awful killings happened to a country so near to ours, and during those times, what was I doing?
in 1975 - when indonesia first invaded Timor, i was born
in late 80s - I was finishing secondary school
in 1999 - I had graduated, gone to Chile for my Raleigh expedition, and had quit my first job
it's amazing how our lives just go on despite all the horrible things that happen in the world. every minute, as you read this blog, babies are dying from hunger, mothers from complicated deliveries and unsanitary conditions, someone is losing his leg from a landmine planted 20 years ago, or maybe a genocide is taking place.
you can make a difference simply by becoming more aware of what happens OUTSIDE your backyard. Don't believe the myth that YOU are too small to make a change. If you can't stop a war, at least help a poor neighbour with his next meal or better yet, put his child to school. So stop reading this blog already! Get started!
This was during the time when Timor was fighting for independence, and soldiers used to send freedom fighters to 'Jakarta' by pushing them over the cliffs, to their deaths. Their wives would be told : "Your husband has gone to Jakarta". To this day, you will still find bones of those who were sent a-flying at the bottom of the cliffs, and many people still stop by Jakarta 1 and Jakarta 2 to pay their respects. It's chilling to imagine that these awful killings happened to a country so near to ours, and during those times, what was I doing?
in 1975 - when indonesia first invaded Timor, i was born
in late 80s - I was finishing secondary school
in 1999 - I had graduated, gone to Chile for my Raleigh expedition, and had quit my first job
it's amazing how our lives just go on despite all the horrible things that happen in the world. every minute, as you read this blog, babies are dying from hunger, mothers from complicated deliveries and unsanitary conditions, someone is losing his leg from a landmine planted 20 years ago, or maybe a genocide is taking place.
you can make a difference simply by becoming more aware of what happens OUTSIDE your backyard. Don't believe the myth that YOU are too small to make a change. If you can't stop a war, at least help a poor neighbour with his next meal or better yet, put his child to school. So stop reading this blog already! Get started!
Monday, August 29, 2005
flickr flackr
just a short note to say thanks to Rani for buying me a Flickr Pro account so now i can upload as many pictures as i want a month! ;-) so guys do click on my pictures and visit the rest of my timor shots i have on Flickr. adios :-)
head banging
i finally found the courage to take the Mikrolet this past week. The mikrolet is , as it's name suggests, a micro bus. There are so many of them plying the streets of Dili but like in many Asian and also developed countries, there are no bus stops and signages to indicate which bus goes where. That is why it has taken me so long to muster the courage to take one as I had feared getting into unknown parts of Dili.
After some weeks of observation, I decided that Bus 10 is a good bet because i see it everywhere I go i.e. outside the church i attend, the supermarkets i go to, and the wet market i trawl for cheap veggies, and most importantly, Bus 10 stops outside my place.
So I hopped onto one on Saturday after shopping at Comoro Market, the traditional farmers' market where locals sell their produce - tomatoes, bitter gourds, bak choi, kailan, kangkong, cassavas, pumpkins, avocadoes, tofu, bean sprouts, peppers, etc. I struggled up the tiny bus with 3 bags of barang-barang, everyone was staring at me curiously. It's not often that a malae takes public transport. Most malae hop onto the many taxis on the street and it costs $1 to go anywhere. I used to think that was cheap until i started taking the mikrolet which costs only 10 cents to go to the same places!
Incidentally, someone told me that a malae who knew Tetun once took the mikrolet and he heard the locals comment on what a cheapskate he was for squeezing with them. You see, in Timor, all malaes have osan barak (a lot of money). That's hilarious to hear. But i think my presence didn't quit stir up that kind of conversation in the tiny bus.
Anyways, the ten-cent ride, if you look at it positively, entails a Dili tour of sorts. The bus stopped frequently,and I had to squeeze with 15 others, and wait patiently for it to pass all the supermarkets i frequent before i reached the red gates of my compound. Not recommended if you're in a rush, but a must if you want to see the sights of Dili economically and have plenty of time to spare. People are also friendly, and some strike up conversations. I had a conductor ask for my name once and when i alighted, he shouted , "Good bye, Miss Brigida!" Malaes sure feel like superstars here. *Guffaw*
But what i really don't understand about mikrolets or any other buses i have squeezed in in Myanmar and cambodia or Laos is 1) why they like to squeeze into small spaces 2) why the buses are built so small. I remember taking a jeep in Myanmar and we had 15-20 people packed into it, with me, Elaine and Rae hanging off the back.
In Cambodia, we packed 8 adults and 2 kids into a Toyota Corolla on a 5-6 hours journey to the northeast. How did we do that? They put TWO persons in the driver's seat (YES!) and another TWO in the front passenger seat and four of us at the back and 2 kids stuffed somewhere. I still have a picture of that somewhere....
After some weeks of observation, I decided that Bus 10 is a good bet because i see it everywhere I go i.e. outside the church i attend, the supermarkets i go to, and the wet market i trawl for cheap veggies, and most importantly, Bus 10 stops outside my place.
So I hopped onto one on Saturday after shopping at Comoro Market, the traditional farmers' market where locals sell their produce - tomatoes, bitter gourds, bak choi, kailan, kangkong, cassavas, pumpkins, avocadoes, tofu, bean sprouts, peppers, etc. I struggled up the tiny bus with 3 bags of barang-barang, everyone was staring at me curiously. It's not often that a malae takes public transport. Most malae hop onto the many taxis on the street and it costs $1 to go anywhere. I used to think that was cheap until i started taking the mikrolet which costs only 10 cents to go to the same places!
Incidentally, someone told me that a malae who knew Tetun once took the mikrolet and he heard the locals comment on what a cheapskate he was for squeezing with them. You see, in Timor, all malaes have osan barak (a lot of money). That's hilarious to hear. But i think my presence didn't quit stir up that kind of conversation in the tiny bus.
Anyways, the ten-cent ride, if you look at it positively, entails a Dili tour of sorts. The bus stopped frequently,and I had to squeeze with 15 others, and wait patiently for it to pass all the supermarkets i frequent before i reached the red gates of my compound. Not recommended if you're in a rush, but a must if you want to see the sights of Dili economically and have plenty of time to spare. People are also friendly, and some strike up conversations. I had a conductor ask for my name once and when i alighted, he shouted , "Good bye, Miss Brigida!" Malaes sure feel like superstars here. *Guffaw*
But what i really don't understand about mikrolets or any other buses i have squeezed in in Myanmar and cambodia or Laos is 1) why they like to squeeze into small spaces 2) why the buses are built so small. I remember taking a jeep in Myanmar and we had 15-20 people packed into it, with me, Elaine and Rae hanging off the back.
In Cambodia, we packed 8 adults and 2 kids into a Toyota Corolla on a 5-6 hours journey to the northeast. How did we do that? They put TWO persons in the driver's seat (YES!) and another TWO in the front passenger seat and four of us at the back and 2 kids stuffed somewhere. I still have a picture of that somewhere....
Friday, August 26, 2005
kopi timor
Food has become an obsession for me here in Timior Lorosae. More specifically, shopping for food and cooking them. YOu see, in Singapore, I am known as one of the 'parasitic kidults'who live off their parents even at an age where they should be living on their own. Not that my parents complain - in fact, the few times i raised the subject of moving out, I was met with hysteria and emotional blackmail. But i digress.
My point is - in Singapore, i never had to worry about cooking my own meals but it is only when i go overseas that i begin to take on housewife traits. ;-) it has worsened here in TL because, as i have explained before, there ain't anything to shop for - except for food. So my Sundays before and after church are spent trawling the traditional and super markets for the best buys.
Last week, i totally OD-ed and ended up buying enough veggies for 10 people. So, i have been wracking my brain each day planning how to cook the veggies that were ageing in my mini bar fridge.
For those who might have tasted my cooking, you know it's not great. No way near haute cuisine or cuisine anything. But i have been surprising myself. With food as my only obsession, i have been keeping my eyes open to observe how others cook.
Here's a list of what i've tried so far:
1. stir fried eggplant/brinjal
2. sweet and spicy fish
3. stir friend sesame-flavoured chicken
4. avocado juice (!!!!)
5. sweet potato & white fungus soup
6. chicken stew
7. celery, tomato & bitter gourd juice
Cooking isn't as leisurely compared to when I was in Hawaii when classes ended at 3pm and we had time to potter around the kitchen. Here in TL, i come home after work about 630 to 7pm and then start cooking. But it's therapeutic and keeps me away from too much TV.
Cooking, as i have found out, is also the cheapest alternative to entertaining people. Last week, i was asked to have dinner with some people i couldn't say no to. I paid $12USD for the dinner. OK, sounds so little to you city people reading the blog. But do the math - $12 translates to TWELVE days of lunches for me here. So i blew 12 lunches with one dinner. Being the type who 'eat to live', i was really disturbed.
SO when i had some people who came from Singapore visiting me, I decided to host them at my place and cook for them. Last night, I cooked sweet and spicy fish, stir fried chicken, brinjal, and stir fried veggies. It cost me about $5 for the whole dinner, and my sweat of course.
Did they enjoy the meal? :-) I don't know but i sure hope they did!
;-)have a great weekend
My point is - in Singapore, i never had to worry about cooking my own meals but it is only when i go overseas that i begin to take on housewife traits. ;-) it has worsened here in TL because, as i have explained before, there ain't anything to shop for - except for food. So my Sundays before and after church are spent trawling the traditional and super markets for the best buys.
Last week, i totally OD-ed and ended up buying enough veggies for 10 people. So, i have been wracking my brain each day planning how to cook the veggies that were ageing in my mini bar fridge.
For those who might have tasted my cooking, you know it's not great. No way near haute cuisine or cuisine anything. But i have been surprising myself. With food as my only obsession, i have been keeping my eyes open to observe how others cook.
Here's a list of what i've tried so far:
1. stir fried eggplant/brinjal
2. sweet and spicy fish
3. stir friend sesame-flavoured chicken
4. avocado juice (!!!!)
5. sweet potato & white fungus soup
6. chicken stew
7. celery, tomato & bitter gourd juice
Cooking isn't as leisurely compared to when I was in Hawaii when classes ended at 3pm and we had time to potter around the kitchen. Here in TL, i come home after work about 630 to 7pm and then start cooking. But it's therapeutic and keeps me away from too much TV.
Cooking, as i have found out, is also the cheapest alternative to entertaining people. Last week, i was asked to have dinner with some people i couldn't say no to. I paid $12USD for the dinner. OK, sounds so little to you city people reading the blog. But do the math - $12 translates to TWELVE days of lunches for me here. So i blew 12 lunches with one dinner. Being the type who 'eat to live', i was really disturbed.
SO when i had some people who came from Singapore visiting me, I decided to host them at my place and cook for them. Last night, I cooked sweet and spicy fish, stir fried chicken, brinjal, and stir fried veggies. It cost me about $5 for the whole dinner, and my sweat of course.
Did they enjoy the meal? :-) I don't know but i sure hope they did!
;-)have a great weekend
Tuesday, August 23, 2005
define WORK : 'w&rk
I hope those who asked me about work will not regret cos this update might sound like PR materials! ;-P but please, humour me and read on....
(Disclaimer: anything i write here are MY views and should not be quoted in any form anywhere else. I am not representing UNICEF when i write this but only myself and my own perspective)
Here goes...
I work as a media volunteer in the Communication Section of UNICEF. Besides supporting the other sections in their events, our section's main aim is to raise awareness amongst Timorese of the rights of CHILDREN. We love kids and we think these kiddies are the future of Timor Leste and so a lot of emphasis should be on helping them.
that's a great tagline huh? It's exactly what a lot of kids here are experiencing. Many don't grow up healthily; they are malnourished and stunted; others don't survive beyond their 5th birthday. There're still many not in schools, not receiving quality education and thus will not grow up to be well-informed individuals who can participate fully in society.
One of the ways UNICEF encourages young people to express their views is by supporting and training children's editorial teams in community radio stations. Most Timorese listen to radio then tv or read newspapers so it is a great medium to spread the message. Volunteers (like Silvia you see in the picture) works with youngsters to interview fellow villagers, write stories, edit them and put them on radio! So once or twice a week, we hear the young people present their own programmes on issues they think affect them. Cool? ;-) so ya, that's what my section does.
Right now, my main duty is to focus on getting an advocacy booklet out for UNICEF Timor Leste so that we can convince donors to support the country, not just UNICEF per se.
Remember, if anyone asks what UNICEF does, we do a lot, but we don't always do the groundwork i.e. like what Raleigh and other smaller NGOs do. Instead, we work with the governments to establish sustainable systems and build their capacity.
Why?
So that even after we have left, governments can stand on their own feet and manage. Also, personally I think that if we can convince governments eg. that children's rights are important and get them committed, it's already one big battle won.
My only experience in developmental work was in Raleigh where i dealt in youth development via building/construction projects. We used to have frustrations about bigger NGOs and governments , so it's interesting to be on the other side of the fence to see what the big boys are doing. So far, i am seeing a bunch of very dedicated people who really want to make things work --- for the long term.
(Disclaimer: anything i write here are MY views and should not be quoted in any form anywhere else. I am not representing UNICEF when i write this but only myself and my own perspective)
Here goes...
I work as a media volunteer in the Communication Section of UNICEF. Besides supporting the other sections in their events, our section's main aim is to raise awareness amongst Timorese of the rights of CHILDREN. We love kids and we think these kiddies are the future of Timor Leste and so a lot of emphasis should be on helping them.
'Childhood under threat'
that's a great tagline huh? It's exactly what a lot of kids here are experiencing. Many don't grow up healthily; they are malnourished and stunted; others don't survive beyond their 5th birthday. There're still many not in schools, not receiving quality education and thus will not grow up to be well-informed individuals who can participate fully in society.
One of the ways UNICEF encourages young people to express their views is by supporting and training children's editorial teams in community radio stations. Most Timorese listen to radio then tv or read newspapers so it is a great medium to spread the message. Volunteers (like Silvia you see in the picture) works with youngsters to interview fellow villagers, write stories, edit them and put them on radio! So once or twice a week, we hear the young people present their own programmes on issues they think affect them. Cool? ;-) so ya, that's what my section does.
Right now, my main duty is to focus on getting an advocacy booklet out for UNICEF Timor Leste so that we can convince donors to support the country, not just UNICEF per se.
Remember, if anyone asks what UNICEF does, we do a lot, but we don't always do the groundwork i.e. like what Raleigh and other smaller NGOs do. Instead, we work with the governments to establish sustainable systems and build their capacity.
Why?
So that even after we have left, governments can stand on their own feet and manage. Also, personally I think that if we can convince governments eg. that children's rights are important and get them committed, it's already one big battle won.
My only experience in developmental work was in Raleigh where i dealt in youth development via building/construction projects. We used to have frustrations about bigger NGOs and governments , so it's interesting to be on the other side of the fence to see what the big boys are doing. So far, i am seeing a bunch of very dedicated people who really want to make things work --- for the long term.
Friday, August 19, 2005
Mind Your Language - Faux Pas of the week
the canine has nothing to do with my faux pas of the week. it's just that it's not too appropriate to photograph the 'star' of my blog.
here's what i learnt over the last few days - it is not recommended to learn two languages in tandem no matter how 'smart' you think you are. I have been busy learning Tetum and Bahasa Indonesia here in Timor Leste. So last week, when i was in Baucau attending the Assumption of Mary feast day, i decided to put my new found language skills to work.
I was in a friend's home and wanted some tea. Instead of asking my friend, i ventured into the kitchen and said to a girl, "Teh, iha?"
She did a double-take and then said, "Iha," which means "Have" in Tetum. I was glad she understood me and I got my drink. It was not until many days later when I recounted this to a colleague that I realised what a faux pas i had committed.
Indra told me, "No wonder the girl did a double-take. You know what 'Teh' means in Tetum?" I shook my head, puzzled because teh is tea is teh worldwide isn't it? Indra smiled and said, "It means 'not so good things'." I asked, "what not so good things?" The sweet guy paused and smiled and hesitated. I decided to flip open my Tetum dictionary and scanned for the word 'teh'.
Omigosh! I had asked the girl if she had 'shit' for me! How hilarious! Indra and I couldn't stop laughing. It's a good thing I had not learnt to say "Hau hakarak hemu teh" which is "I want to drink shit" !
So there, please take my advice and mind your language! Have a great week ahead! And keep me in your prayers that I don't commit any blunders like this anymore! By the way, thanks for the comments and emails. ANd the sad thing is: the battle with the roaches is still raging on. I really need to use those recommendations you have sent to me.
Ok, till the next update, adios amigas y amigos!
Friday, August 12, 2005
'Reach for the stars' - this is the theme of UNICEF's education campaign here in Timor Leste. In Tetun - it's "Hakarak Kaer Ba Fitun" to encourage the kiddies to reach for their stars through education. Last Monday, UNICEF and the Education Ministry launched a cute, catchy tune with adorable kids shouting out their ambitions and singing "i'm old enough for school when i'm 6 years old'... kinda like the opposite of the Toys R US ad - remember the "i don't wanna grow up, i'm a ToYs R US kid..." song? The "Stars" song is to get children aware that once they're 6, they should attend school for 6 days a week, for at least 6 years. Neat huh? School's something we all think we're supposed to have, in fact, many of us found reasons to skip school when we were younger - the 'fevers', the 'sore throats', the 'stomachaches', etc. Did/ do / will we realise how many children don't get the chance to step into school in their lifetime?
Hawaii of the east?
It's the end of another week here in Timor-Leste - an incredibly busy one as work begins to pile up.
Thankfully i was able to steal some time last Sunday for a short hike to the Cristo Rei where an immense Jesus statue overlooks the Banda Sea.
This was the wonderful view that greeted me when i reached the top. The coastal cliffs just reminded me so much of Hawaii. It's nice to have see this great expanse of land - somewhere it relaxes me a lot. On the beach, people were swimming, sailing and just lazing there. Right now, it's still mostly 'malae' (prono: ma-lai) or foreigners like us but hopefully in a few more years, we'll see more Timorese being able to take time out to do so too.
Till my next update, enjoy the view!
Oh and thanks for all the ideas on roach eradication but so far pandan leaves are doing their magic. Of course it helped that the gaps in my toilet have been sealed with epoxy.
:-)
Thankfully i was able to steal some time last Sunday for a short hike to the Cristo Rei where an immense Jesus statue overlooks the Banda Sea.
This was the wonderful view that greeted me when i reached the top. The coastal cliffs just reminded me so much of Hawaii. It's nice to have see this great expanse of land - somewhere it relaxes me a lot. On the beach, people were swimming, sailing and just lazing there. Right now, it's still mostly 'malae' (prono: ma-lai) or foreigners like us but hopefully in a few more years, we'll see more Timorese being able to take time out to do so too.
Till my next update, enjoy the view!
Oh and thanks for all the ideas on roach eradication but so far pandan leaves are doing their magic. Of course it helped that the gaps in my toilet have been sealed with epoxy.
:-)
Monday, August 08, 2005
Happy National Day!
Ok, here's a special entry in honour of our nation's birthday tomorrow. HAPPY BIRTHDAY singapore! Incidentally, I met this guy with the 'I LOVE SINGAPORE' tee shirt at the beach yesterday. It's weird to see someone wearing something so patriotic in another country and no- he is not Singaporean! Make your own guesses how he landed this tee. Oh by the way, the Timorese like bananas and one of the types that are sold are called Singaporean bananans. Haha, they're the fat ones. I wonder why they call them that...
Speaking of nation building, it's really an exciting time to be here in TL. You see a new young nation struggling to get up on its feet and I wonder if that's how we were 40 years ago? It thrills me to see this whole 'work in progress' because the future is hard to tell. It's really how much everyone's going to give that will make a difference, ya?
The Timorese fought hard for independence but boy oh boy, getting their own flag and anthem is really just the first step of the struggle. and yes, it's hard. Very hard. Who says it's easy paying your own bills? Cooking your own food, sweeping your own floor, catching your own bugs. All those not staying with parents anymore should know what i'm talking about. I guess independence is like that. Ok, i know i simplify but really...
I'm really glad to be here now, witnessing this moment when a young nation and its people take their own future in their hands. Who knows how things will turn out? :-)
HAPPY NATIONAL DAY SINGAPORE!!!!
Speaking of nation building, it's really an exciting time to be here in TL. You see a new young nation struggling to get up on its feet and I wonder if that's how we were 40 years ago? It thrills me to see this whole 'work in progress' because the future is hard to tell. It's really how much everyone's going to give that will make a difference, ya?
The Timorese fought hard for independence but boy oh boy, getting their own flag and anthem is really just the first step of the struggle. and yes, it's hard. Very hard. Who says it's easy paying your own bills? Cooking your own food, sweeping your own floor, catching your own bugs. All those not staying with parents anymore should know what i'm talking about. I guess independence is like that. Ok, i know i simplify but really...
I'm really glad to be here now, witnessing this moment when a young nation and its people take their own future in their hands. Who knows how things will turn out? :-)
HAPPY NATIONAL DAY SINGAPORE!!!!
Friday, August 05, 2005
orchard roach
two baby roaches found dead under my dining table when i returned home. I'm sorry i don't have the pix of that one that snuggled up to me in bed. You must understand that i was more concerned with killing it, then taking a snap of it
Chemical Dili
Bon dia from Timor Lorosae! It is Friday and that means just a few hours more before the weekend!
Yeah! So everyone’s been asking “How’s Timor?” The quick answer is “Great!” There are no shopping malls to tempt my empty pockets, no rush hour even at 5pm, no cinemas with ever-rising ticket prices. Instead I have been finding solace walking down the aisles of the few supermarkets here: comparing prices of olive oil, brown rice, mixed grain bread, potatoes. You have to peer closely to see where the products are made because the Baygon made in Australia, for example, costs 3 times more than the one from Indonesia. Of course, my pocket dictated my decision although the OZ version looked nicer, more ergonomic and would probably mean my hands would tire less when using it to spray down ‘orrible insects.
Speaking of extermination, I have been poisoning myself a fair bit these few days. But wait, before I go on, I really want to say that this is the ONLY bugbear (pun pun pun!) I have about Timor - - I love the rest of it so far.
I was sleeping on Wednesday night when suddenly I felt some feeler-like things on my left arm. Instinctively I swept it away and then turned on the light to see what it was. *GASP* I saw a disgusting ROACH writhing in the corner and it dawned upon me that I had just shared my covers with a cockroach. Blimey! It was 3am but I was wide awake. I took some tissue, grabbed the nasty fella, flushed it down the loo and started scrubbing my arm with soap. I didn’t really feel like crawling back into bed after that so I slept on my tatami instead.
The next morning, I told my Vietnamese landlady about the roach visit and she told me, “Oh how lucky of you! In Vietnam, we say you will have good luck if cockroach touches you!” Ugh…. Ok, where’s my windfall? I’m still waiting.
Anyways, I found more cockroaches when I came home in the evening and saw another one crawling out from my basin. So I’ve been fogging my room quite mercilessly the past two days. My mom says I should combat them with pandan leaves so I need to find those before I commit chemical suicide.
Alright, that’s all for now. It’s already way too long an update. Till next week, and I promise to write about something else than cockroaches (and those mosquitos!) Like the beaches for example!
Yeah! So everyone’s been asking “How’s Timor?” The quick answer is “Great!” There are no shopping malls to tempt my empty pockets, no rush hour even at 5pm, no cinemas with ever-rising ticket prices. Instead I have been finding solace walking down the aisles of the few supermarkets here: comparing prices of olive oil, brown rice, mixed grain bread, potatoes. You have to peer closely to see where the products are made because the Baygon made in Australia, for example, costs 3 times more than the one from Indonesia. Of course, my pocket dictated my decision although the OZ version looked nicer, more ergonomic and would probably mean my hands would tire less when using it to spray down ‘orrible insects.
Speaking of extermination, I have been poisoning myself a fair bit these few days. But wait, before I go on, I really want to say that this is the ONLY bugbear (pun pun pun!) I have about Timor - - I love the rest of it so far.
I was sleeping on Wednesday night when suddenly I felt some feeler-like things on my left arm. Instinctively I swept it away and then turned on the light to see what it was. *GASP* I saw a disgusting ROACH writhing in the corner and it dawned upon me that I had just shared my covers with a cockroach. Blimey! It was 3am but I was wide awake. I took some tissue, grabbed the nasty fella, flushed it down the loo and started scrubbing my arm with soap. I didn’t really feel like crawling back into bed after that so I slept on my tatami instead.
The next morning, I told my Vietnamese landlady about the roach visit and she told me, “Oh how lucky of you! In Vietnam, we say you will have good luck if cockroach touches you!” Ugh…. Ok, where’s my windfall? I’m still waiting.
Anyways, I found more cockroaches when I came home in the evening and saw another one crawling out from my basin. So I’ve been fogging my room quite mercilessly the past two days. My mom says I should combat them with pandan leaves so I need to find those before I commit chemical suicide.
Alright, that’s all for now. It’s already way too long an update. Till next week, and I promise to write about something else than cockroaches (and those mosquitos!) Like the beaches for example!
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