A domestic life once more

Sunday 24 July 2005

We moved into our beach house in Rai Kotu on Saturday 23 July. The house is about 8km west from the centre of Dili; 1km west of the airport and about 1.5km from the western edge of the city. We are living on the beach and next to the Dili Nicolau Lobato International Airport. The airport was named after Timor’s first Prime Minister, elected in 1975 after Fretilin claimed independence from the Portuguese. A couple of month’s later when the Indonesian military invaded, his wife, Isobel along with the Australian journalist Roger East were executed on Dili warf and their bodies thrown into the sea. Lobato was murdered by the Indonesian military three years later.

From our home we can see and hear the international flights land and depart: one 737 Merpati flight from Bali at around 1pm; and two Air North flights a day from Darwin: morning and evening; along with the odd UN or other helicopter or plane. That’s it! (Although Daniel tells me that there are now flights to/from Kupang in West Timor). You can only enter Timor by air from two countries (Indonesia) and via Australia it is in an Embraer Brasilia Turboprop (ie a very small aircraft!) The airport has no radar and therefore flights can only operate during daylight hours.

Unfortunately after we moved into our house, and en route to do some food shopping, I lost my purse in a taxi which contained $200 cash plus my Visa card, Drivers Licence, Medicare card, Health Insurance card etc. We were stranded at the Landmark Plaza supermarket without a cent and no way of getting home. I cried and cried and cried at my carelessness and the inconvenience it would now cause me. I wasn’t worried about the money, as I’m sure most Timorese need it more than I but more about the hassle of having to replace my cards. I called my Aunt in Melbourne and asked her to cancel my Visa card. I then called a fellow AVIer and asked if she would come and pick us up, lend us some money, and take us to the police station. Thankfully she obliged.

After our first restless night due to dogs barking, goats bellowing, ducks quacking, the power cutting out which left us with no fan to cool our bodies while we slept, the sound of the waves crashing on the shore, the landlord arriving home at 10pm in his very large construction vehicle, the roosters crowing from 4am, the landlord moving his large vehicle at 5am and then proceeding to work on his unfinished house next door, the kids chopping firewood from 6am, we decided to get up and go for a walk along the beach to Dili Rock, a snorkelling dive spot about 1.5km west from our house. About 1km along the beach and across the road we found Tasitolu Altar: the traditional thatched roof house built in commemoration of Pope John Paul II’s visit in 1989, and walked behind it to find the Tasitolu Peace Park as discussed in the previous post. We found two of the three lakes (but possibly there were three as it was hard to make out the boundary of one of the lakes that could have contained two) and a number of birds including pelicans, cormorants and many other unidentified species. The area becomes a haven for birds during the wet season when we suspect the three lakes join together to form one big lake. It was lovely to hear all the bird calls and to enjoy the tranquillity of the place after our disturbed sleep. We looked around for trees that we might be able to sit under for a picnic in the future where we could take in the ambience of the place and read a book. Unfortunately there were not that many trees and those that were growing near the lakes were stunted. We will return again next weekend and endeavour to find a suitable spot as we imagine it will be even more filled with life during the wet season when it presumably floods. The area indeed provides a lovely respite from Dili and even our (noisy) home.

The lack of privacy and space is a real issue in Timor. Australians are accustomed to both and a lot of it. The Timorese however being a communitarian society and with very large families don’t have the luxury of it nor the appreciation for it. Our landlord and his family live less than a metre from the back of our house in a “shed”. We can hear them talking, watching TV, and listening to the radio, all of which they do at normal decibels. I am used to walking around the house naked but unfortunately, most of our windows look onto someone else’s house and therefore, Daniel is concerned I might frighten the neighbours! The previous occupants of the house said that the house is much quieter than most in Dili as there is much more space between the neighbours (except our landlord’s family). We’ll have to wait and see about that. My tolerance for noise is very low and I’m not able to endure much sleep deprivation without turning into a gibbering mess.

Every Timorese family has a rooster and they are prized possessions for the many cockfights that take place here. Unfortunately, roosters have no concept of when dawn is and once one gets it wrong, the whole bloody neighbourhood is one big rooster talkfest.

Electricity for our home will cost us about $1 a day, which is roughly the same price as we paid in Australia. It is hard to imagine how the Timorese afford it but it does go towards explaining why so many cut down the trees so they can cook their meals.

The water is hard (as opposed to soft) and just dreadful. Timor has so little of it but what they do have they cannot drink and it is, quite frankly, disgusting. It is difficult to work up a lather, particularly when washing your hair, and afterwards, it feels like straw. Your face feels like someone has tried to peel the top layer of skin off it. If you collect it for the “mandi” after a day or so it turns a revolting brown colour. We have to purchase drinking water from the supermarket, which costs $1 for a 19-litre bottle or 50c for a 1.5 litre bottle. Now that we’re settled, we can purchase the former and much cheaper and environmentally friendly option (the empty 19 litre bottles are exchanged for full ones as opposed to throwing away the 1.5 litre bottles, which are subsequently burnt by the locals).

I should clarify that when I mention dollars, they are US dollars, which is Timor’s currency. Thus to convert the amounts I quote to say Australian dollars, add 25%.

Radio Australia (RA) has been off air since we arrived due to a malfunction with their transmitter. However, last night we managed to pick it up on our wind up radio, generously given to me by a colleague at my previous place of work in Melbourne. Unfortunately they were about to cross over to the Ashes test series (cricket) which was of no interest to me. So I turned over to short wave and found the BBC World Service, which was airing their arts program. This morning we tuned into RA again and found they were playing The Spirit of Things from Radio National. The topic for discussion was Atheism, which we both enjoyed listening to.

After some consideration, we have decided to forgo cable television as it was going to cost us $66 a month (initial set up costs divided over two years plus monthly subscription fee) and for that, we didn’t get all that many channels that interested us. Of the 38 channels we would be forced to subscribe to due to the restrictive nature of cable packages, only half a dozen of the channels really interested us (BBC World News, ABC Asia Pacific, HBO, HBO Signature, Hallmark and Star). And of these, only a handful of programs were desired. So after some debate we decided instead to spend our money buying books and DVDs from Readings in Carlton, Melbourne and have them posted to us every couple of months. (As discussed in a previous post, there are very few English language books available for borrowing or purchase in Timor, hence our need to purchase the items from Australia.) We decided it would be better for our intellect and our relationship to read voraciously than sit watching TV that didn’t much interest us anyway. We are now looking forward to choosing titles online and look forward to them arriving in the mail. It will feel like we’re real adventurers awaiting our care packages from home!

The only TV station we are able to pick up is RTTL (Radio & Television Timor Leste). All programs appear to be in either Tetun or Portuguese, which provides us with more opportunities to learn the former and maybe a bit of the latter. However, very few of the programs appear to be of high quality. Programs from the BBC World News and ABC Asia Pacific were aired on TVTL but (we believe) as a result of a new directive from the Communications Minister, all English programs were removed as English is not an official but a working language of Timor Leste. Last night we watched the news from Portugal which to be honest felt a little weird, and then the Timor Leste news. This was followed by a number of very boring variety programs which were clearly cheap to make as they were of Timorese performing music in the station’s studio. There is a one-hour program about women aired once a week and people from both our NGOs have recently been on it. We have yet to see the program and look forward to watching it and seeing our colleagues.

At about 5:30pm this evening (an hour or so before sunset) we left our house and walked up the street (a dirt road that come the wet season will be a mud road) to catch a taxi into town. This was the third time we had walked down the street and the attention we garner has not abated. Given that we are the only “malae” in the neighbourhood, this is to be expected. There are lots of kids about all staring and saying “malae” or “hello mister” or “hello missus” or they’re too embarrassed to say anything. It feels like China where we were also a novelty. We have made it a policy that wherever we walk we always smile and greet people with the appropriate greeting of the time of day (“bondia”, “botardi” or “bonoiti”).

We went to the Roo Bar for dinner tonight because every Sunday night they have a roast and lots of veggies. We pay a little less to eat just the veggies: roasted carrot and potatoes, boiled peas and corn and mashed potato; along with a glass of Australian red or white wine. While we were there an oldish (50s) skinny white man, his very young Asian wife and their two or three year old child turned up for a meal. She ate only salad while he piled his plate with mainly meat and a small serving of peas and corn. I quipped to Daniel that it was so typical of a bloke to mainly eat meat and for a woman to eat just a salad. Behind us was an overweight Australian woman having dinner with a man (perhaps Portuguese?) and after the meal, she lit up a cigarette. I had to think twice where I was because I nearly turned around and told her to put it out!

There was also a group of Aussie blokes eating and when they left two more Aussie blokes and two prostitutes turned up and this group had a yarn with the first group outside the bar. The two women were Asian (not Timorese) but I wasn’t sure from which country. Many women from China, the Philippines and Thailand are trafficked to Timor to “service” the many foreign men here. Apparently very few, if any, Timorese women work as prostitutes. (The Alola Foundation based in Dili recently did a report on the issue of trafficking of women in Timor, which I have seen referenced in reports I am currently reading for work.) The two women entered the bar from the rear and the men the front door. I wasn’t sure why they did this. The two men were 50ish, overweight and bald; the two women younger and thinner. We were nearing the end of our meal but Daniel couldn’t finish his because he felt “sick”. My blood pressure rose a few notches. We promptly left.

Men are everywhere; and women are hidden. Public places are full of men whether on the beach, on the street, driving taxis. It is not often that you see a woman. If you do, it is because they are selling their produce from the market or on the side of a street. The women seem to appear in greater numbers just before sunset, never alone, always with other women or their children. Combine this with the fact that most of the “malae” are also men, it is very noticeable how “male” Timor is.

When we were looking for a place to live, one place we looked at was up in the hills overlooking Dili. On our drive up we came across the President’s Official Residence. It’s a great big house, in what architectural style I do not know, and painted bright pink with sweeping views down over Dili and Fatucama Bay. However, the President, First Lady and their three sons do not live there preferring to live further up in the hills in a more modest home. So the house sits vacant and is guarded by a number of very bored looking men.

We have booked one night’s accommodation in the low-key eco resort on Atauro Island for the weekend of 13-14 August. The Island is 30km across the Wetar Strait directly in front of Dili; 140-sq-km in size and stretches 25km north to south; the population 8000. The underwater life around the Island is reported to be spectacular, along with fine beaches and warm ocean swimming. The ferry departs Dili on Saturday morning and takes about two hours. We will return on Sunday afternoon. Dolphins and pilot wales are a common sight along the way. There are only three ferry trips a week (Saturday, Sunday and Wednesday) so until we are entitled to take annual leave (after 12 months service), we can only visit the Island for one night. However, apparently we can hire a local boat to take us back to Dili, which is cheaper than the ferry. We are looking forward to the trip as we have read quite a bit about the eco resort, which was initiated and currently run by a former AVI woman. As water is scarce (a huge problem in Timor), we have to take our own drinking water but we will be provided with meals (at an additional cost). The charge for accommodation and meals on a Saturday night is $30 per head and $25 every other night. This will be my first excursion outside of Dili and Daniel’s second (he has previously spent two days in Maubara, west of Dili along the coast, attending a planning workshop for the NGO he works for).

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

We saw Jesus

Thursday 21 July 2005

On Sunday we rose early to see Jesus. No, we haven´t experienced a religious epiphany in the world´s most Catholic (per capita) country. ´Jesus´ in this case refers to the imposing 27m statue of Christ standing atop a giant world globe at the eastern end of Cape Fatucama (about 5km east of town). The statue was a gift from the Indonesians styled after Rio de Janeiro´s Christ the Redeemer. The ´gift´ was a contentious project during the waning years of Indonesian rule; its height symbolising the 27 provinces of Indonesia, East Timor being the 27th.

We climbed the many stairs to arrive at the base of Christ´s Earthly platform where we were greeted by sweeping views across over Dili and of the nearby islands of Atauro and Alor. The statue can also be seen from all around Dili harbour. There were very few people around except for a couple of ´malae´. We walked back to town along the beach and road stopping at Areia Branca beach, Dili´s best beach. The Nobel Peace Prize winner and current Minister of Foreign Affairs, Jose Ramos-Horta lives up in the hills in a secluded area behind the beach. (but he deserves a post of his own!)

We had breakfast at the Caz Bar where we had funny tasting banana smoothies (the bananas here do not taste like the ones we are used to) and baked beans on toast. The breakfast interlude was quite enjoyable except for the monkey in a cage close to our table. Daniel was most upset but there was nothing we could do for it except try to ignore its plight. This is very difficult for both of us as although most animals have freedom of movement (except monkeys, goats, roosters and strangely enough a deer not far from our hotel), like many of the people, the animals seem to suffer malaises of every kind.

The fecundity of the country is very evident in both human and non-human animals. Hens and their chicks, sows and their piglets, cats and dogs roam the streets. All female dogs are pregnant or have been recently. Many dogs are killed by cars and we found one washed up on the beach during our walk. Recently we saw a dog with a broken foot. I doubt there is a single vet in the country and considering the limited number of human doctors available here, people would greet us with incredulity if we were to take the dog to hospital for treatment.

While eating lunch at a Thai restaurant on Tuesday, a very underfed cat roamed around our legs meowing to be fed. It was ´dificil´. Meanwhile, I again felt under siege as young men intermittently came to our table trying to sell us mandarins or handmade items. The local ´malae´ supermarket sells dog and cat food but as this is not aimed at the Timorese who couldn´t possibly afford such items, I´m not sure who it is intended for as I am yet to meet a ´malae´ with pets. (although Daniel informs me one of his malae colleagues has a dog)

In many respects, it would be more humane to euthanise all the cats and dogs in Timor.

The treatment of animals here is an indication of the poverty of the people as well as the prevailing Catholic culture, which tends to treat non-human animals with scant regard. There´s actually not much I can do for the animals of Timor (other than not eat them, which I don´t), but I am trying to assist people, particularly women.

We regularly eat in a particular restaurant aimed at ´malae´ but run single handedly by a lovely Timorese woman who, it transpires, was the victim of serious domestic violence and her husband was the first man to be sentenced to prison for this crime. She supports her six children on the earnings of her restaurant business but of late, patronage has fallen due to the near total withdrawal of the UN. She often gives us dessert, usually home made créme caramel, without charging us. This week I insisted on paying her for the dessert (by estimating how much she could sell it for) and a small tip. It was the least we could do. The meal (including a G&T) only cost $9.50 US so I bumped it up to $14. Shortly before we left I saw one of her daughters doing her school work outside by candle light. It lifts your spirits to see an obviously strong and independent woman with a strong dedication to education.

I started work on Monday and the conditions I will be working in are ´challenging´. I was glad to have worked in similarly under-resourced organisations in Canada and Australia because otherwise, I may have been very disheartened. The most noticeable issue is that there is no mosquito netting on any of the windows and doors and only two rooms have air conditioning. Conditions are cramped and without any privacy. I am sitting in a communal area with my two colleagues. We have one fan, open windows, open door and many mosquitos flying in, out and around us. I was not expecting this so did not come to work covered in mosquito repellent but made a mental note to do so the following day. There are two pregnant women at work and I despair, worrying that they will catch malaria while pregnant, which is a serious problem.

I have a desk with draw of stuff (of undecipherable origin or purpose), a fold up chair (not the ergonomic computer chair I had in Melbourne) and no computer. I have been asked to bring my laptop to work as there are not enough computers to go around. The two toilets are far from desirable: a western style toilet that does not flush and instead, the ´mandi´ must be used. The water collected for hand flushing the toilet must also be used to wash one´s hands but there is no soap or towel. I have already got into the habit of carrying a small bottle of liquid soap around with me but I cannot bring myself to use the same water as is intended for the toilet so instead go to the kitchen to wash my hands. The toilet floors are often sopping wet thanks to using the ´mandi´ and so when you pull down your pants to semi squat over the toilet, you also have to hold up the leg of your trousers to prevent them from falling into the water! Thankfully purified bottled water is provided so I can at least drink safely.

There is a total of 29 staff including three internationals (a female Social Worker, a male Fundraiser and me). Of these, 23 are women and 6 are men. Of the men, only 2 work in the office, the others are drivers and security officers.

In my Division, I work with two women, one of whom only started in April as previously, she had been on the Board of the organisation but had to resign her position in order to become a paid staff member. Both women have children (I suspect that the other international woman and I are the only ones who don´t have children and we would definitely be among the eldest). The Director announced on Tuesday that she is pregnant with her third child. She is my age (35) and has a 10 and an 8-year-old. Her pregnancy highlights the fact that better-educated women are having much fewer children than the national average of 8.3 per woman. Also, it is highly probable that she has access to contraception unlike most of her sisters.

My new name at work is Mana Samantha or Mana Sam. Mana is placed before the name of a woman who is a friend or colleague and is a form of respect. Its literal translation is ´older sister´. Likewise I address my female colleagues as Mana. The men I work with have the title Maun or ´older brother´.

This week one of my colleagues will attend a regional Asian conference on the issue of gender, development and trade of less developed countries (LDCs). I hope to find out more about it but unfortunately Internet access at work is limited. We have a dial up connection but it can only be accessed from two computers and my lap top isn´t connected to anything yet (including the sole printer in use). Many office items have stickers on them saying things like ´donated by USAID´ or ´donated by AusAID´, indicating the extent to which the organisation is reliant on aid. Recently their Internet and telephone (of which there is only one handset for the entire organisation) was cut off because one of their donors failed to pay. Obviously their financial security is reliant on overseas donors paying and on time.

The power cutting out is a constant problem. Approximately three to four times a day the power just stops. The saving grace of working on a lap top is that my battery kicks in so I don´t lose anything which is not the case for those on desktops. The back up generator was broken for some time and finally was fixed the day I started. It makes a great big rumbling sound as it fires up to take the place of supplying power from the public grid. Because the electricity supply is subject to frequent blackouts and brownouts, people have installed generators. However this does nothing to solve the problem of more money needed to provide efficient electricity generation for the general population who generally cannot afford to pay for it. The people who can afford to pay for the public supply often opt out by installing generators. It´s a huge quandary that will be hard to fix. Interestingly enough the Embassy district never appears to lose power (I may have mentioned this before!).

A related issue is the cutting down of scarce trees (what´s left of them, which isn´t much) for firewood. The government recently passed a law prohibiting the cutting down of trees in the hills surrounding Dili but most of the people are so poor that they have no other way of generating energy to cook and feed themselves. Just down the road from the hotel are people living in shanty huts and come nightfall, thick clouds of smoke permeate the air as firewood is burned to cook the evening meal. These people are also living on the banks of the Santana River (also Dili´s main drain) whimosquitoeshe wet season is a breeding ground for mosquitos, malaria and dengue fever. Directly across the road, surrounded by a security fence and guards, is the American Ambassador´s house complete with a floodlit tennis court.

Language is going to be my biggest problem at work. One of my colleagues speaks English (although not fluently) and both Tetun and Bahasa are in use throughout the organisation. There is very little material available in English, which makes my research of the organisation and what they have already achieved very difficult. Furthermore, they do not have a website, which I could consult. So I have started with some very basic stuff like creating an organisation chart which includes the different divisions and who works where so that I understand who does what. From their newspaper clipping files, I found one newspaper article in English that contained references to a number of other NGOs working on the issue of gender in Timor, and whose names I duly noted. I also came across a report in English on the issue of women and the formal (as opposed to informal) justice system. Reading that document has led me to other sources I should consult. From reading the first report it is very clear that there is a widespread problem of domestic violence and sexual assault, in fact, the former is the most often reported crime in the country. However, the formal justice sector functions poorly and rarely gives women the justice they seek. This is due to a number of issues, which I´ll hopefully address, in a later posting. Meanwhile, we continue with our Tetun lessons and aim to become fluent or at least capable eventually.

Daniel had the good fortune to meet John Martinkus at work this week. Martinkus is an Australian foreign correspondent and author of A Dirty Little War: an eyewitness account of East Timor´s descent into hell, 1997-2000 (which it just so happens I was planning on reading after my current book.) During the past year or so he has been reporting from Iraq where he was kidnapped but managed to talk his way out of being killed by insisting that he was there to report the truth of what was occurring, and not as a lackey of the Australian government. I believe his journalism is in the vein of Martha Gellhorn and her ´spiritual heir´ John Pilger.

Ironically when we were having dinner last week at the Hotel Turismo, a bloke arrived to join a small group of men at a table not far from ours. His voice was very distinct and I commented to Daniel that I thought it might be John Martinkus. I couldn´t hear his conversation but his voice is rather unique and I was sure it was he. Daniel said that he had read somewhere that Martinkus was currently in Aceh reporting on the separatist movement there but perhaps he had popped on over to Dili for a break as it wasn´t far. As it turned out I was right as he is here doing a story about the UN´s Commission of Experts report calling for an International Criminal Court (ICC) on human rights abuses committed against the Timorese during Indonesia´s 24 year rule. The story will be aired on Australia´s Dateline program on SBS Television. Daniel wasn´t as excited as I would have been at meeting him, however one of his female malae colleagues was also a little awed. It must be a girl thing!

We had another disturbing incident this week with an Australian ´war tourist´ who owns one third of the hotel where we are currently staying. Daniel commented to him that one of his staff´s (who was standing right there with them) Tetun teaching was very good (she and Daniel have been practising their respective languages together). He responded incredibly rudely and continued to put her down in front of us all. It was appalling! Daniel had to restrain himself but did manage to say, ¨that´s not very nice¨. The disturbing thing is this man was wearing a CARE t-shirt (the Australian international aid agency) and when I asked him about it he said, ´I should get printed on the back ´so find someone who gives a fuck´. (Needless to say that this man has never worked for CARE but was given the t-shirt by CARE employees working in Timor. Also, although he has been here 5 years he only knows a smattering of Tetun.) Daniel remained disturbed for the rest of the evening. I on the other hand don´t think much of men like him anyway so am hardly surprised by his comments. (This incident comes on top of discovering that the Aussie run bar down the road (as discussed in a previous post), conducts a weekly raffle to raise money to promote the sport of cricket established in Timor! The prize (no surprises) is a meat platter. Of all the bloody things to raise money for in one of the 10 poorest countries in the world. Not to mention the total cultural inappropriateness of the intended aim.) It should hardly come as a surprise that we are both looking forward to getting away from all these appalling ´malae´, as quite frankly, it´s embarrassing to be an Australian. I feel like apologising to all the Timorese who have to put up with them.

We finally move into our beach house this weekend. From the house you can see the sea and it´s less than a five-minute walk down to the beach. The house is a small little one bedroom place with the family who own it living out the back in their ´shed´. Our rent will help them to finish their new house being built next door. The family has 6 children, the eldest a 20-year-old girl who is at university studying biology and the youngest an 8-year-old boy at primary school. We were both happy to hear that all the children are at school as this indicates that the parents value education. The father works building roads during the week in another town and comes home for the weekends. The mother takes care of their home and the children, tending to their needs and ours!

The house is about 1km from an area intended to become Timor´s second National Park: Tasitolu Peace Park, a group of three salt lakes. Its name literally means ´three seas´ in Tetun. We hope the Park can provide us with a quite escape from Dili´s noise as we have read that it is particularly beautiful in the cool of morning or late afternoon, when the surrounding eucalypt-clad hills change colour. The area is also supposedly a great place to see waterbirds, both resident and migratory birds fleeing Russia´s harsh winter (birds are few and far between in Dili). The site is of important cultural value as Pope John Paul II visited in 1989 and the bodies of many victims of the Indonesian military regime were brought here. The area is currently degraded, but rehabilitation is planned, as is management that emphasises cultural values and environmental education.

I am currently reading Peter Singer´s Practical Ethics. Originally published in 1979, the book has become a classic introduction to applied ethics. The second edition, of which I am reading, was published in 1993. The focus of the book is the application of ethics to difficult and controversial social questions: equality and discrimination by race, sex, ability, or species; abortion, euthanasia, and embryo experimentation; the moral status of animals; political violence and civil disobedience; overseas aid and the obligation to assist others; responsibility for the environment; the treatment of refugees. It has been a thought provoking read as all the issues he addresses, including his reasoning and conclusions, I fully support. However, previously I had not formulated the same reasoning that led to my ethical conclusions and by reading Singer´s arguments, I now have firmer ground on which to argue with others as to my guiding moral framework in life. In the past, I have got into arguments with people about my values as people do find it incredibly challenging to have their most sacrosanct beliefs questioned. As Singer points out, these are a legacy of Christian doctrine (for example the doctrine of the sanctity of human life) and they have become largely unquestionable. Reading the book has also made me acutely aware of how difficult it is to argue these issues with people who aren´t so well versed in philosophical reasoning. Most people (myself included before I read this book) argue their case quite poorly. I studied feminist philosophy at university and this combined with reading Singer´s work has only further strengthened my belief that philosophy should be taught to all school age children. Human beings should be able to formulate their own guiding moral framework for life, free of religious doctrine, and this can only be achieved by giving them the tools to do so (reason, debate and critical inquiry).

Before I left Melbourne, I had the privilege of hearing Singer give a packed house public lecture at The University of Melbourne where he is a visiting academic for four months every year for the next four years. I also attended a small seminar he gave which was mainly aimed at post-graduate philosophy students. He is working on a new book with an American academic, Jim Mason, on ethics and the environment. Hearing him speak only increased my respect and admiration for his mind and prompted me to order his book from Readings in Carlton before departing for Timor. It was well worth the academic price tag of $50. Practical Ethics should interest any thinking person concerned with the most difficult social problems facing us in the twenty-first century and I commend it to you.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Sam checks in after nearly checking out

Thursday 14 July 2005

My two weeks in Dili have proved memorable on many levels.

MORAS LIU (VERY SICK)
First there was the slight (but persistant) cold that turned feral on arrival, progressively getting worse and eventually culminating in delirium, vomiting and incapacity. Before that however a friend took me to the Dili National Hospital (Ospital Nationale if you ever need to get there in a taxi) emergency department where I shared a stretcher with a little girl of about two years. She had fallen, cut her forehead and was looking very despondent and lethargic. Her father stood patiently by her side as they waited for a doctor to attend to her. On the next stretcher a young teenage boy looked as if the energy had been drained from his body. His mother waited with him. Two stretchers over lay an old man with a number of tubes protruding from his body, including one from his stomach. Alongside was his wife. Furthest away in our small room was a woman holding her young baby while the doctor injected something into the child. All their facial expressions were blank; no animation or emotion from anyone. I wondered if it was the heat or simple resignation to their situations. Needless to say, conditions in the emergency room were basic - especially considering this was the leading medical institution in the country.

I found it difficult not to cough. A really awful sound emanating from my throat every time I did, drawing extra attention to myself, as the only vocal patient (apart from the baby screaming when being injected). The fact I was the only white patient there was also a factor in this. After a reasonably short wait a young woman doctor from Indonesia attended to me. Her English being considerably better than my Bahasa, we managed to converse about my problem. She wrote in my newly acquired hospital card (I am now in the Timor health system) and sent me off to the ´specialist´.

We went off to find the specialist and after walking around the interior perimeter of the different specialties, we discovered that the specialist was not on duty that day. We had walked past many people waiting to see a doctor of some persuasion and again, the facial expressions were blank.

My Timorese guide returned to the Indonesian doctor to tell her the situation and to ask if she could prescribe something in the interim. She duly returned with a list of drugs to be filled by the onsite pharmacist; three drugs: paracetamol, amoxycillin and buscopan at no charge. I wanted to pay but couldn´t as they were not set up to take money. It felt unfair for me a rich ´Malae´* not to pay for prescription drugs not otherwise easily obtained in Timor. But there was nothing I could do. The final drug had to be obtained from a chemist outside the hospital and it turned out to be throat lozenges at a cost of $2.

We then went to get something to eat so that I could begin taking the drugs. Later on we ate lunch and I took the second course of drugs. We returned to the hotel where early in the evening I again had a coughing fit and couldn´t stop. This time I threw up. I reluctantly ate another meal so as to take the drugs and again, had a coughing fit and threw up again. I started to panic slightly (Daniel more than slightly). I asked Daniel to go and get our fellow AVIer who once worked as an ambulance paramedic. She was very calm and we talked through what we thought the problem might be. She deduced that the buscopan was wrongly prescribed as it was an antispasmodic but I didn´t have abdominal cramps. We decided to eliminate this drug from the regime starting immediately. I stopped throwing up and we both stopped panicking.

INFRASTRUCTURE (OR THE LACK THEREOF)
I would have liked to have seen Timor prior to the Indonesia backed militia led carnage that occurred in the lead up to the independence referendum in 1999 and immediately after the carnage to compare it with what I see now. It is hard for me to imagine it any worse than it is now. It is clear that peace has been secured and buildings are no longer burning. However, the consequences of the carnage on the infrastructure of Timor in terms of roads, sewers and drains remains. The open sewers where I see childrenmosquitoesand mosquitos breeding is shocking. (Remember that Timor has a high incidence of Malaria and other insect borne diseases)

Why hasn´t more of the millions of dollars that has poured into Timor gone towards closing up the sewers and drains? It is a major health hazard, particularly for children. The roads and footpaths are in terrible condition with potholes and various larger sized chasms that drop straight into the drains. It is impossible to walk without looking down and at night, you must carry a torch to see where you are going in case you fall into a drain.

MANE SIRA KLOSAN (YOUNG MEN)
Some days you feel constantly under siege by young males. Particularly the ones trying in vain to sell you telephone cards or newspapers or mandarins or other items. Some appear not to take ´lae´# for an answer and follow you down the street trying to convince you to change your mind. The worst are the little boys, no more than ten years of age. If you won´t buy their wares, they ask for money for food because they´re hungry. I tell them ´lae´ but this does not deter them from following me and then saying something that sounds abusive but I can´t be sure as my Tetun is only rudimentary. We have been told by many people not to give children money as it encourages a culture of dependency and begging. Still, there´s a constant feeling of unease and unsureness of whether we´re doing the right thing. It makes me angry that we allow poverty to reduce children to marginal streetsellers and beggars. It is shameful.

MANE SIRA HUSI AUSTRALIA (MEN FROM AUSTRALIA)
Australians are everywhere and most of them I do not like (mostly the commercial entrepreneurial types. The federal public servants of various persuasions seem to conduct themselves in a proferespectful culturally respectfull manner). At our hotel, the guests are overwhelmingly older men and Australian. The hotel staff overwhelmingly young, female and Timorese. The older men being served by young females is enough to raise my blood pressure but to make things worse, many of the men are overweight and loud: ¨f*** this¨, ¨f***¨ that as they throw down their umpteenth VB while sitting in the spa. (The American war correspondent Martha Gellhorn felt a sense of revulsion at the gross, fleshy Western bodies she encountered in Vietnam during the war: ¨we are all big and sweaty¨, she noted in her diary.)

They take over the hotel´s public spaces as only men can, which is despairingly intimidating to women. Then there´s the Aussie travel agent who rents a place for only $20 US a month (prices are now anywhere from $250 to $1000 plus). He got in while it was good (ie before the UN descended en masse and prices rose to ridiculous levels). When we told him that a pretty shabby house was being offered to us for $600, he said and I quote, ¨the greedy bastards.¨ Seriously, he could have been back at home saying it about the Aborigines or non-Anglo immigrants. The intent behind his words was disturbing.

Then there´s the Aussie real estate agent who thought our desire to live amongst the community as opposed to a gated ´Malae´ community, amusing. He thought himself safe when telling us that the Timorese were ´different´ and not to expect them to deal fairly and honestly with us. Moreover, he told us that his Tetun wasn´t the best as he decided long ago that (as his employees couldn´t speak a word of English) he was doing them a favour by speaking English to them and thereby imparting a new skill! The arrogance! Both men came here in 2000 soon after the referendum for independence and once the INTERFET soldiers had arrived to secure the country. I didn´t dare ask what their motivations were for coming to Timor as I strongly suspected that I wouldn´t like the answer (Martha Gellhorn called them ´war tourists´: businessmen on the make, people she utterly despised.) The local bar/restaurant is run by Aussies who were formerly in the ´construction business´. My knowledge of this has now put me off frequenting the place.

And then, in contrast, there are the Aussie volunteers: three times as many women as men. Why is it that most of the ´war tourists´ are male while most of the capacity builders are female? (It´s a rhetorical question). We got to know the two women we originally flew over with. Wonderful, fantastic women who have now left the hotel for respective homes and we miss them terribly. Such fine company: committed, inspiring, generous women. If only the world ....

BUT NOT ALL VOLUNTEERS GET ALONG
However, I had an unfortunate evening with a fellow volunteer, her friend who was just visiting and another volunteer from another country. All were white, middle class women in their 50s.

We got onto the subject of women as I was asked a question about my work and past experience. The evening was a disaster. These women were completely blinded by the gender order and truly believed that things had gone too far concerning women´s rights and feminism. I was gobsmacked, particularly as we were sitting in a country where women bear 8.3 children each, where less are literate or have basic education than men do, and where domestic violence is a major problem. Granted they were referring to things ´back home´ but even in our little privileged lives in the West, things have certainly not gone far enough. They argued with me and found me hostile, negative and probably completely and utterly insane. One woman said I was never going to change anything with my (negative) attitude and I should be more like her and put a positive slant on things.

She said it would be better to talk about human rather than women´s rights without recognising or understanding that hu(man) rights were seldom cognisant of women´s condition. I then tried to argue from her point of view about the Australian Human Rights and Equal Opportunity Commission´s recent postcard campaign which has a little boy and girl sitting together with the caption ¨prepare your daughter for work: pay her less pocket money than your son¨ (women in Australia continue to earn only 85% of what men do). The oh so positive woman said that she found that campaign appallingly negative and it wouldn´t get HREOC anywhere. Hello! Wake up to reality. It was as if the second wave of feminism had passed them by; that all the privileges they now had as women (to be working in a third world country for two years on their own without a husband) were completely taken for granted.

I despaired. I stopped talking for a considerable time because I was so mortified. However, I had to re-enter the debate because I simply couldn´t stand their ignorance. They said I was angry. I said that I was mostly passionate (but also angry) and rightly so (there is so much to be angry about in the world, so much terrible injustice particularly when it comes to women. I know my anger is justifiable). I did not direct any of my fury at them personally. I was simply talking about issues and ideas. It really unnerved them and clearly made them terribly uncomfortable. In the end it got me nowhere other than to have made my first group of ´enemies´. A couple of days later we went to eat at the Aussie run bar as mentioned above (before I discovered who it was run by), and as I walked up the stairs, I could see the heads of two of the women and made a hasty retreat. It was comical really. Dili is so small that you run into people you don´t want to very easily. Lucky for me that two of the women left the country this week so that only leaves one left to avoid.

FETO SIRA HUSI TIMOR (WOMEN FROM TIMOR)
A young woman befriended me while I was at the Xanana Gusmao Reading Room. She is a university student at the National University of Timor-Leste (UNTL) and located in the English Department. She wants to practise her English so we meet once a week. We share information about our families and where we come from. She wants to apply for an Australian Development Scholarship but her English would not pass the IELTS test. I am trying to help her fulfil her ambition, as the cards are stacked against her (last year there were 1000 applicants from Timor-Leste and 11 successful candidates). She is the youngest of eight children and the first to go to university. Her family does not support or understand her desire to seek an education. She can barely afford to pay the $30 fees per semester. She has no telephone and no mailing address but she does have an email address, which she can use, in public places. I feel conflicted in my desire to help her. On the one hand I want to help her, as she is a young woman trying to better herself in incredibly difficult circumstances, on the other hand, my western individual need for privacy, boundaries and distance from others is pretty strong. She on the other has been inculturated into a communitarian way of life and would find it difficult to understand my selfish needs. Of course I don´t tell her any of this but it is how I feel. I am committed however to trying my best to assist her in applying for a scholarship as I feel it would allow her to develop as a person and hopefully to contribute something positive to her country (as she so clearly wants to do) if the Timorese government can create for her the opportunity. However, her English is the thing that will determine her success in securing a scholarship and it needs improving greatly.

APPRENDE HELA TETUN (LEARNING TETUN)
We are learning Tetun with a young Timorese man from the same university as my woman friend. We meet with him most days for one hour. The language is quite easy to learn and I think I will get better at it once I start work next week. Alex is already ahead of me as he practises with his colleagues. He also has a knack for languages as he easily picked up Mandarin during his time there. I´m a little jealous. (NOTE: Learning (the little I learnt of) Mandarin was anything BUT easy!!! -Alex)

A LIFE IN A WEEK
I am reading ¨Martha Gellhorn: A Life¨ by Caroline Moorehead. It is a biography of one of the first white American, middle-upper class, heterosexual female war correspondents. Her journalism tracked many of the flashpoints of the twentieth century; as a young woman she witnessed the suffering of the Amerdispatchesssion and risked her life in the Spanish Civil War. Her despatches from the front made her a legend, yet her private life was often messy and volcanic. Her determination to be a war correspondent and her conspicuous success contributed to the breakdown of her infamously stormy marriage to Ernest Hemingway. It´s a fascinating account of a terribly flawed woman who passionately fought against injustice and who was determined to capture the human story. I´m coming to the end of its 500 odd pages and I have enjoyed the journey immensely.

BUKA HELA UMA (LOOKING FOR A HOUSE)
We hope to move into our home within a week or so, a lovely beachside one-bedroom house near the airport (west of the centre of Dili) and about 7kms from work. The house is part of the community (not gated. After looking at six houses ranging from $250 to $600 a month, and from ´Malae´ to Timorese standard, we settled on the first place we looked at. You can see the ocean from the house and it´s a short stroll to the beach for a walk and swim. There is hot water in the bathroom, a western shower head and western toilet, although as in China, there is no containing space in which to have a shower, you´re just expected to spray water all over the bathroom. However, this is considered a luxury in Timor, as most people have no running water or only cold, and a ´mandi´^ with which to bathe. The kitchen has cold water only. Our new landlord´s wife will do our washing (by hand), ironing and house cleaning. (I am considering whether to buy a washing machine (very rare in Timor) so as to reduce the burden on her and so that she too can use the machine to lighten her domestic load.) This provides some much-needed cash to her family of many children. Our rent is going towards building them a new house next door, which has stalled in recent months due to a lack of cash. In the meantime, the entire family live out the back in a kind of one room shed. This is very common in Timor as people jump at the chance to rent out their home so that they can either do it up or build another one from the money they earn on rent. During the huge UN presence, some Timorese (and many more Aussie ´war tourists´) made a lot of money as there was a shortage of accommodation on offer and therefore, prices soared.

I´ve decided that we need to wash our own dishes as I am concerned that we will, upon one day returning to the West, resent having to do our domestic chores, which neither of us enjoys anyway. We are going to invest in satellite or cable TV as the local Timorese station no longer airs any English language programs and I really love my television, particularly ABC and SBS TV. However, the cable TV we will get only broadcasts ABC TV Asia Pacific, which is not the same as the national one. HBO from the USA is available so we´ll be able to get our fix of the final season of ´Six Feet Under´ and today I discovered that Star TV is about to broadcast ´Little Britain´, which makes me happy. The hotel we are currently staying in also has many of the free-to-air stations from Australia which are picked up by an enormous satellite dish. The dish costs $10,000 new but second hand ones often go for $2,000. That´s still too expensive for us so we´ll have to forgo the pleasure of being able to watch ABC and SBS TV for the next two years. It wouldn´t be so bad if there were English language books available for reading, but in fact, there are hardly any. The only ones on sale or to borrow are overwhelmingly about the history and politics of Timor-Leste some of which I have already read and although I want to read more, I do not think that my psyche could take only reading for the next two years about the horrendous atrocities that have occurred here. There is also a book exchange but from a cursory look, most of the books are paperback airport novels, which are definitely not my thing. There is also a cinema in town but I have been told that it is currently closed.

(UPDATE: We have now decided not to get satellite TV, but instead to invest in books, CDs, DVDs and other cultural care packages from across the Timor Sea)

EMA BOOT (´BIG PEOPLE´)
The American Ambassador´s residence is around the corner from our hotel on the beach road with magnificent views across the sea to Atauro Island. It is surrounded by an enormous fence, has a security guard or two, beautiful green grass and even has a tennis court with lights to allow a game in the evening. Funny thing though, when the power goes off in the neighbourhood like clockwork around 7pm every night, the Ambassador´s house is still lit up like a beacon in the darkness. The Timorese living in shanty huts on the opposite side of the road however, have to candles to allow themselves just a little light. Apparently too, the Embassy district never loses power. Now, tell me this: how is the power situation ever going to change if all the powerful people are never without power?

KOMESA SERVISU (STARTING WORK)
I start my job next week as a Women´s & Children´s Rights Advocate in a highly respected national (local) NGO. I will be working with local staff to develop resources and document the situation of women in Timor-Leste; and deliver public education activities around women´s and children´s human rights. I´m looking forward to it but also feeling a little daunted.

FOOTNOTES
* Malae is used for any foreigners other than Indonesians. It is not really translatable, since (unlike foreigner) it is a term of respect, reflecting the high status, which is generally assigned to foreigners in East Timor. (Daniel: or so they say, I can´t help but feel the connotation is more ambiguous in practice.)
# Lae is No.
^ Mandi is an Indonesian washing facility consisting of a large (cold) water tank, from which you scoop water from a ladle, jug or what looks like a plastic saucepan. Once wet you soap yourself down and then rinse the soap off with more (cold) water from the mandi. You do not climb into the mandi.

All Tetun references taken from the Peace Corps East Timor Tetun Language Course, first edition, 2003 and the Lonely Planet Guide to East Timor, 2004.


Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Second week update (house-hunting, settling in, work)

Quick update:

Samantha is feeling better and has finalised her position with one of Timor´s leading women´s and children´s rights organisations. We have found a house about ten minutes (by car) outside Dili. It is a gorgeous little house right on the beach with the Timorese family who owns the house living next door. We still have to do a bit of negotiating, but it looks positive. Alas, our efforts to find a nice place in Dili amounted to nothing with neither of the two extremes we saw having much allure. So apart from the commute and extra taxi costs, I think we´ve found the perfect little home. My job is going okay, my second week and am starting to get to know the lay of the land. We´re both learning Tetun which is (thankfully) far easier than Chinese. Things are coming together and it will be a great thing to move out of the hotel, Australian television aside.

More soon, esp. Sam´s first fortnight in Dili expose.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

New Beginnings (arriving in Timor)

There is no way to do justice to the last five days. I'm not even going to try. Sam was sick, we both were stressed and by the time we fell into our 4:30am taxi to the airport after packing up and cleaning out our Northcote rental house we were reduced to gibberish and random bursts of laughter.

The poor taxi driver didn't know what to make of us and our many miscellaneous accoutrements, most of which were consolidated into eight bags by the airport. Qantas laughed at our letter requesting a larger baggage allowance due to our humanitarian mission, relief only coming in the fact we were able to carry on the three bags containing most of our heavier items.

In Adelaide we took part in a Kafkaesque group run to catch our next flight, disassembling and reassembling our bags along the way (as we passed through security once again) only to discover we were reboarding the same plane we arrived on.

Darwin was more relaxed, twenty odd degrees warmer and noticeably more tropical. Air North was far more considerate regarding the baggage quotas and didn't charge us despite our being well over the limit. The only negative was that two of our bags were held over until the next morning's flight due to space limitations. Not a big thing really.

The flight from Darwin to Dili deserves a post of its own and hopefully we'll write one - needless to say it was the smallest plane I've been on and being able to see out both windows and the pilot's windscreen at the same time is quite an experience.

Arrived safely after a dramatic approach to Dili's seaside airport. Was met by my employer who helped us and a fellow arrival to the Hotel Venture where we are currently staying. Since arrival things have been pretty relaxed, the heat is hot, there aren't many mosquitoes around and I've met the people I'll be working with and am feeling positive about the situation.

The big issue is that Sam is very sick, her sore throat from Australia seems to have become something worse with TB-like coughing and vomiting. We visited the Hospital Nationale with a friend (who is working there) and she was treated well (better however than the many Timorese waiting).

This morning was the first day she feels slightly better, so fingers crossed she is on the way up. If she doesn't pick up soon we might have to return to Darwin or even give up on Timor altogether.

There are other stories to tell of our time here, but they'll have to wait. We´ll hopefully have some photos too. Stay tuned and all the best to everyone.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)