Monsoon rains approach

We may, in the very near future, be in need of gumboots! The monsoon rains have slowly started their build up and in late October, we had three continuous days’ of late afternoon heavy downpours that left both streets that run to our house ankle deep in water. On one evening, the taxi driver who took us home refused to drive all the way to our house and unceremoniously dumped us in the mud to negotiate the remainder of the way by foot in the dark without any streetlights!

Our Teva sandals will see us through to the height of the rainy season in December, but as five times as much rain falls then, we have been told that ankle soon becomes calf, which becomes knee-deep water!

The streets in our neighbourhood are unpaved and with no drainage and sewerage systems, the ground can only absorb so much. Evaporation plays a part but not even the hot Dili sun can evaporate all the water once the rains come daily. The morning after a heavy deluge, we are left with huge mud pools for streets that are becoming more and more difficult to negotiate. I have become so concerned that I have worried that we will be trapped in our house with no way in or out!

I wondered briefly if it would be better to walk, bare footed but then again, there are often rusty nails and bits of demolished roads and buildings, not to mention diseases around our walking tracks so that it probably isn't a very good idea. Then we thought gumboots! When I asked my Tetun tutor where I might purchase a pair, he just laughed and said, “like farmers wear?” If we can’t find them in Dili (given there are no farmers living in the capital) we might have to get them sent from Australia.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Our first cultural event

Sunday 23 October 2005

Last night we attended our first official cultural event: an art and photography exhibition on the theme of human rights followed by the viewing of two documentaries. The event took place at the Arte Moris (literally translated Living Art) Cultural Centre, which houses the only art, drama, and music school in Timor and which is nearby to where we live.

The students’ artwork was very bright and colourful with bold paint strokes and large characters. It reminded me of the work of Diego Rivera and his murals in Mexico City but in fairness to Rivera, not quite as good.

The photography exhibition titled Etre (Being): The Face of Human Rights was sponsored by the Cultural Foreign Policy Centre of the Swiss Federal Department of Foreign Affairs. The exhibition was originally mounted in Geneva to mark the opening of the 60th session of the UN Commission on Human Rights and following Switzerland’s accession to the United Nations. The exhibition was created with the archival photos of Magnum Photos (France); many of which were poignant and thought provoking. The accompanying commentary for each theme was in English with translations into Tetun as the impetus for showing the exhibition in Dili, was to encourage Timorese to attend and therefore prompt them to think about their human rights in a fragile new democracy. The themes covered by the exhibition were:

The Right to Life: what is the value of a human life?
Prohibition of Discrimination: how can they say I am different just because of the colour of my skin?
The Right to Food: why is half the planet hungry?
The Right to Health: must a woman’s life in some African countries be so much shorter than in Western Europe?
The Right to Housing: is it human to live in a cardboard box?
The Protection of Private Life: why should we be allowed to have secrets?
The Freedom of Thought and Belief: what are we supposed to believe in?
The Right to Education: is it possible to be free and equal without education?
The Right to Work: human capital or human beings?
The Protection of Property: who has the right to own what?
Fair Trial and Prohibition of Torture: “how does one man assert his power over another, Winston?” – Winston thought. “By making him suffer”, he said. (George Orwell, 1984, 1949.)
Political Rights and Freedom of Expression: should the world ‘free’ only be allowed in such statements as “this dog is free from lice”?
The Rights of Refugees and Displaced Persons: nowhere to run, no place to hide?

Max Stahl created the films shown: an Englishman who has made Timor his home for some years. His camera footage of events such as the Santa Cruz Massacre in 1991 made headlines around the world. The first film we watched was about ex Falantil soldiers and their status in the now independent Timor. It wasn’t very interesting. The second film was rough shots for a work in progress about the events of September 1999. It was quite boring and I wasn’t impressed. We watched these films outside under the stars in the still humid night air with tens of young Timorese children. Some of the scenes were not appropriate for children to watch and I wondered where the parents of the children were. Still, how any parent manages to keep a watchful eye on eight children is beyond me.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Women, poverty and education

Friday 28 October 2005

We experienced our first visit to a Timorese home on Sunday. My friend Zelia had invited us over for lunch and she just happens to live in the same village/suburb as we do. Upon arrival, she introduced us to her uncle and two “brothers” (extended family) with whom she shares a house. She is the only female member living there and I worry that she is expected to take care of them all (cooking, cleaning, washing etc). We sat outside the house with the three Timorese men, while Zelia prepared morning tea. We managed a more than brief conversation with them in Tetun. For morning tea, Zelia offered us watery rice porridge as a drink in a cup (standard breakfast fare in Timor) and “hudi sona” (fried bananas) purchased locally for 5c a piece. Not long after, two of the men had to leave to complete the business of selling buffalo and cattle, which is how they make their living. Prior to lunch, one of the “brothers” expertly climbed the coconut tree in their garden and plucked for us two green coconuts. He then cut them open with a machete and we drank the juice and ate the meat although I found the juice too bitter. Also in their garden, were “hudi” (banana) and papaya? trees. For lunch, Zelia cooked for us on an open wood fire stove, white rice, a green leafy vegetable and spicy noodles at which point another uncle joined us for lunch. The food was very tasty although I was glad I did not have to eat it every day, as it is rather monotonous. However, Zelia said that compared to Lautem district where she originates from, the food available in Dili is more varied which she prefers. After lunch, Zelia was talking to us and said that she wanted to ask us something. She went very quiet and was so nervous that she said she felt sick in the stomach. I suspected that she was about to ask us for money. She took a while to speak but when she did, she broke down and cried while she asked if we could purchase her an English dictionary and word translator calculator from Bahasa to English to assist her in her university studies as an English major. I felt for her, as the courage it obviously took for her to ask us was palpable. We tentatively agreed depending on the price of the items. It looks as if each item will cost around $50 so we have suggested to her that she thinks about which item would be of more use to her in her studies. We have also decided to continue offering her some financial support in order that she can complete her degree. We will be her patrons of sort. Her parents are poor subsistence farmers. I have talked about Zelia’s family in a previous post (see M is for Mikrolets, Mosquitos, Men and Marriage).

I attended a security briefing at the Australian Embassy in mid October. I was able to ask questions of the AusAid officer concerning the development scholarships that are offered to the Timorese. Apparently, AusAid use to offer more but found that because the difference in education standards was so great, that many of the Timorese students simply dropped out or reduced their qualifications down to TAFE level. Thus they are only offering between 6 to 10 scholarships a year and with approximately 1000 Timorese applying, each person’s chance of success is very small. Thus, I do not think given Zelia’s level of English that she will secure such a scholarship. Hence, we have decided to support her financially in Timor. Her university fees are $60 a year plus books. We believe that we can afford to offer this support as we do have some money left over from our living allowance and she is a woman trying to make a better life for herself in an incredibly poor and patriarchal society. We have come to see first hand the importance of education, particularly for women and are simply putting our money where our mouth is.

Daniel came across an email list of a Peace Corp (USA) volunteer currently living in a village in Lautem district (the farthermost eastern district where Los Palos is the capital and where my friend Zelia originates). Part of this particular post is worth replicating here to give more weight to the issues I have been addressing in my posts, and which consumes my working day.

Tuesday 25 October 2005

The thought of trying to recap my first month as an actual volunteer is slightly overwhelming ... I'm not exactly sure where to begin. This email may be a little jumpy, here and there, so I'm apologizing in advance.

I guess the best place to start is with my host family. This has proven to be my greatest challenge so far. Going into site, my host apa said that he was going to "adopt" me and treat me as his daughter. This sounds great on paper, but you have to remember that I'm in East Timor and the status of women here is pretty low. I'm currently getting just a little taste of what it's like to be female here, and ladies, be glad that you were born in the U.S.

The first week I was at site I got a little taste of what was to be in store for me in the upcoming months. I had 2 sisters who were living with me at the time, but were to leave in 2 weeks. My apa said to me, "When you're sisters leave, you and your ama will be the only 2 females in the house. You'll have to cook, clean, and fetch water. And if you don't cook, we won't eat! Because you're the only females in the house!"

Since my sisters have left I do quite a bit of work in the house. Every morning I wake up between 5:30 and 6, sweep the floors, do the dishes from the night before, either start a fire and boil water or go fetch water, and help prepare breakfast. Then I have to wait for my apa to come and eat before I start eating. Throughout the day fetching water is also part of my routine. I've learned how to carry water on my head using a basket, so now I can carry 4 jugs of water at a time. This is about 20L per trip, and I make 2-3 trips a day. For lunch I just help set the table, but I have a more involved hand in cooking dinner. Every night I start a fire, clean and cook the rice, cut the vegetables and prepare to cook them, set the table, and do the dishes from lunch.

Reading back over this it doesn't sound like all that much work, but you have to remember that I have none of the conveniences of the technology of home. And cooking over a fire is hot. I think that I would have no problem at all doing this work and more if it wasn't for my host father. Besides the fact that he barely does any work in the house, he's taken to telling me what to do and ordering me around. Just a few examples:

- go clear the table (after him and his buddies finished eating)

- go bring my chair in from outside

- have you started cooking yet? you need to cook faster

- bring me and my friends some cups (while they sat outside and drank tua, the local palm wine)

He's also had a conversation with me about how plates and spoons are women's friends. He actually used the word "friend." He told me that a woman can study and go to school and be a surgeon, but plates and spoons are still her friends. He also said that he doesn't know how to cook, just eat. He asks me to do things or if the food is ready on a daily basis, I think to show his dominance over me. It's quite annoying, and needless to say I'm moving out as soon as possible. I say horrible horrible things about him daily under my breath. But I'm learning to deal with it. I'll be out in a couple of months, and it's a good learning experience about what females actually put up with here. I suppose. Certainly I could do without it.

In support of the PeaceCorps volunteer’s experience as a woman in a rural village where 80% of the population live, this chart is illustrative of the burden of work women bear in Timor.

Division of labour in a farming household

Building house etc, Men
Land preparation, Men
Carrying corn and rice, Men
Selling rice and cattle, Men
Tending cattle, Men and children
Weeding, Men, women and children
Firewood, Men, women and children
Food preparation, Women
Cooking meals, Women
Washing dishes, Women
Washing clothes, Women
Cleaning the house, Women
Cutting rice and corn, Women
Threshing, Women
Growing vegetables, Women
Selling vegetables and chickens, Women
Childcare, Women and children
Tending pigs, Women and children
Tending goats, Women and children
Tending chickens, Women and children
Fetching and carrying water, Women and children
Planting of corn and rice, Women primarily

We have had two Family Planning education sessions at work given to staff by nuns from the Mary Knoll order. The first was on the mucus and rhythm (or natural) family planning methods. The second was on the reproductive biology of women. This was the first time that most of my colleagues had experienced any such education! I felt like I was back in primary school where we are taught such things at around the age of 12. Here, no such education exists and nor do parents talk about it with their children. When women have sex for the first time, it is usually a complete surprise to them, particularly if it ends in a pregnancy. My organisation is thinking about doing public education on Family Planning in the districts. It is such important work in the country with the highest birth rate in the world (7.8 children) and where only 7% of women use contraception. These facts indicate the lack of power women have over their bodies due to the inherently patriarchal traditional cultures that make up Timor Leste and the clout of that other inherently patriarchal institution: the Catholic Church (however, some of the nuns are fantastic!).

Since my last post, I have read Mules and Men by Zora Neale Hurston, the first African American feminist folklorist. I first read her work when I was studying at Berkeley, and the book was the classic black feminist novel Their Eyes Were Watching God. Daniel picked the book up from the Xanana Gusmao Reading Room second-hand book exchange. I’m now reading another of Daniel’s finds, The Debt to Pleasure which I’m finding hard to enjoy but it has its moments.

We received our first care package from Australia last week. It was very exciting to open the box of goodies we had ordered and which were kindly furnished for us by my Aunt. One of the items was the second last DVD in the new Dr Who series recently aired on the ABC. We had begun watching the series before we left Australia and were most disappointed that we wouldn’t get to see it in its entirety. Recently I have begun scouring the ABC shop online on the lookout for DVDs and found Dr Who. On Sunday night, we watched the sixth last episode from series one and it was such a pleasure to do so. I really do miss watching quality television. We’ve also watched a German film called Love in Thoughts which was enjoyable mostly for the sumptuous scenery which made me want to get on a plane to Germany pronto. I then gave the DVD to my German colleague, as she was very excited to know that a German film could be purchased at the DVD shop in town. She has now passed it on to another German friend so I suspect the film will do the rounds of the German volunteer community in Timor Leste.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Same-sex marriage update

On the day we departed Australia for Timor, the Canadian government passed their same sex marriage bill. Spain also passed a similar bill. The countries, which now offer equality to all relationships, are the Netherlands, Belgium, Spain and Canada (with a number of other countries offering domestic relationship registration which gives all de facto or common law relationships the same status: eg New Zealand, Denmark, the UK). Note that two of these countries are Catholic (Belgium and Spain) so perhaps there is hope yet for Timor (I won’t hold my breath)?

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Mikrolets back at work

The “mikrolet” owners/drivers ended their strike today. It transpires that exactly two years ago, the government agreed to raise the fares from 5 to 10c for students and 10 to 20c for everyone else but that Timorese commuters refused to pay! So the government just reissued another directive which some of the “mikrolets” are now displaying in their windows, stating what the fare is and should have been for the past two years. We had no idea and feel a little guilty that we too have been paying half the fare. Both my Timorese colleague and Tetun teacher said that the Timorese are incredibly stubborn people, which explains the reason for not paying the increased fare (perhaps also they are poor and most have no jobs). This national characteristic certainly helps to explain why they so determinedly and successfully resisted the Indonesians.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Mikrolets on strike!

“Mikrolets” have been on strike for the past two days and vow to remain so until the government does something about the rising fuel prices or, allows operators to double their fares from 10 to 20c. We are fortunate in that we can afford to catch taxis but the streets are full of people walking the roads, which are already clogged up with more cars including taxis. Of course, the taxi drivers are very happy as they are benefiting greatly from the strike.

We experienced our first traffic accident this morning. It was minor and no one was hurt. A motorcyclist rear-ended the taxi we were in and caused some minor damage to the rear bumper region. The driver appeared very apologetic and offered our taxi driver money. Instead, the passenger on the motorcycle got into the taxi with us, while the motorcyclist followed us while we were dropped off at work. The motorcyclist worked at a “bengkel” (mechanic’s) so they were all driving there to have the very new and clean taxi repaired.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

The problem of isolation and emphasis on the family

Until 1999, Timor was closed off to the rest of the world as Indonesia sought to retain its tight grip over a defiant populace. This combined with their poor levels of education has resulted in an inward looking people seemingly not very interested in anything outside their own country. Time and time again I come to work and ask my Timorese colleague who I share an office with if she had heard about such and such (eg Hurricane Katrina in the USA or the Bali bombings round 2) and my telling her is the first she has heard of it. Admittedly, I hear all my news from Radio Australia because I cannot understand Tetun enough to watch, hear or read news from various media sources within Timor, but it astounds me that she never seems to know anything!

My colleague is also terribly preoccupied with what I consider small things mainly focussed on her family, which includes five children, a husband, mother, various siblings and their children and extended family. From what I can gather, there appears to be a clash between the traditional and the modern in her family and she is firmly placing herself in the latter camp. However, this causes her much resentment regarding demands from the traditional elements of her family. She is clearly trying to break free of the traditional way of life, which frankly, I do not blame her for doing! I also acknowledge that given her family commitments, she probably doesn’t have time to pay attention to issues outside her family!

Family is the strongest focus for the Timorese and given I do not share this in common as I do not have a large extended family nor a sense of obligation to be overly dutiful to those I do not like very much, I find this greatly frustrating about the culture. Apparently, the strong family bonds have their benefits but from my perspective, all I can see are the many negatives (incredibly patriarchal and hierarchical). Frankly, I find it suffocating and I’m a mere observer! I am also constantly grateful for my independent, individualistic cultural background.

Here is a passage from the Draft Domestic Violence legislation that the government of Timor has been sitting on for two years without passing it into law:

The unity and integrity of the family is the foundation of East Timorese society. The community, along with religion and traditional leaders, continuously strives to defend the value of family unity. At the same time, the number of domestic violence offences seriously harms the family unity in Timor Leste. This domestic violence law is, therefore, founded on the principle to protect and defend the unity and integrity of the family.*

My question is what and whose families? Homosexuality and same sex relationships are not worthy of protection in the Constitution. The UN transitional administration originally wrote them into the draft Constitution for the new country but the Timorese interim parliament (or government) removed any reference to them and the final version passed sans any mention of homosexuality and same sex relationships. Daniel says that this emphasis of Timorese society on family is no different from Australia where both the Liberal and Family First parties (and increasingly Labor) constantly remind us about family values. However, here it feels absolute whereas in Australia, there is space for alternative lives that give expression to what it means to be a loving human being, and I know which I prefer.

My colleague is also preoccupied with workplace issues such as her unhappiness in the job, her salary, the apparent backstabbing of fellow colleagues, and gossip. I find it incredibly challenging working in such close confines with her, as generally speaking, I am simply not interested in her small little world and all its pettiness. I can never talk to her about ideas or issues gleaned from reading books, watching films, listening to the radio, or simply showing an interest in anything outside the familial, (she appears to do none of these things). I really need to engage with people about bigger issues and I have absolutely no opportunity to do so at work. I therefore totally rely on Daniel to provide it for me.

I guess I had unrealistic expectations about the sort of women I would be working with. Mostly I have found them very uninteresting and uninspiring. It could also be their age as most of them are much younger than me (at a guess only 20% of my Timorese colleagues are my age or older which bears out in the figures given in the previous post Work culture, values and demographics). Perhaps as my language improves I will have the confidence to talk to other colleagues and find something worth staying here for two years. As obviously, not being fluent in the language contributes to my sense of isolation.


* Draft Domestic Violence Law, Democratic Republic of Timor-Leste National Parliament, 2003, Chapter II: Principles and Objectives, Section 2: Principles, page 1.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Work culture, values and demographics

Unemployment is said to be 80% in Timor, but this is because 80% of the population are subsistence farmers who generally do not earn a cash income but rely on exchanging their produce for other produce or goods. However, unemployment in Dili is very high and with 50% of the population under the age of 15, is only set to grow.

The workforce in Dili is young:

· 53% are between 18 to 29 years old; and
· 41% between 30 to 45 years old (total 94%).

Most have graduated from senior high school (56%) and an additional 34% have an undergraduate degree (total 90%).

More men (70%) than women (30%) are employed.

More workers are married (58%) than single (40%), and 2% divorced or widowed.

The income of the workforce is small, just enough for one person or a small family:

18% earn less than $50 a month;
29% earn $51 to $100 (this includes schoolteachers whose monthly salary is $60; and taxi drivers who earn $100);
33% earn between $101 to $200 (most of my colleagues are in this bracket);
13% between $201 and $300;
2% between $301 and $400;
3% between $401 and $500 (the family we rent our home from is in this bracket as well as both the Directors from our respective NGOs); and
3% between $501 and $1000.
Our volunteer allowance is more than $1000 a month, which puts us outside these categories.

Most people employed in Dili (71%) come from the districts, a sign of population migration from rural areas to urban centres.

More than half the workforce works in the fields of education, charitable, developmental and humanitarian work and computing.

Workers rank industriousness and diligence as the lowest among all work ethics.

Reasons for a lack of industriousness and diligence in the Timorese workforce are:

Political: during the Indonesian occupation, the government created a culture of dependence, which continues to influence the Timorese work mentality. For example, in many development projects, contributions in whatever form were never asked from the people. Organisations did not encourage people to develop their skills or competencies. Low-level jobs that did not require superior competency, or high responsibility, more often than not, were assigned to the Timorese. Furthermore, staff worked for only a few hours a day and in a very relaxed way, which lead to a mentality of minimal work but expectations of maximum, pay.

Cultural: family and interpersonal relationships mean a great deal to the Timorese. Therefore, they take time to communicate, share and to visit relatives and friends.

Timorese revere their dead. Clan members usually contribute cows, buffaloes, pigs and other gifts such as money to celebrations to honour their dead (eg “kore metan” as in previous post). Feasts are important family occasions and families spend a large amount of money on them even at the expense of not being able to send their children to school.

When a family member dies, workers generally take up to two weeks off work as this is how long the initial post death ceremonies last and with upwards of 8 children of their own; an average of 7 siblings (more if their father practiced polygamy); 56 nieces and nephews (again more if polygamy is an issue), parents (often more than one mother if polygamous father), grandparents (ditto), innumerable cousins, combined with high mortality, this can result in a lot of time off work!

Geographical: unlike other rice eating Asian countries, corn is the staple food in Timor. Planting corn is much simpler than rice. You just thrust a sharpened iron or wood in the ground, throw in the seeds, cover them with soil and after one week, sprouts and leaves appear. Unlike rice paddies, corn is weeded only once to give space for it to develop. Where the soil is fertile, corn is harvested in two months.

Ethnic: some ethnic groups like the Makasae and Fataluku in Baucau and Lospalos; and the Bunag in Maliana are more diligent and active [no specific reasons were given why this is so].

Observations made by locals and foreigners alike say that the standard of living of most East Timorese remains at subsistence level as they make little effort to save for the future, implying that industriousness is not a prominent characteristic of East Timorese culture. (Furthermore, the many rituals surrounding marriage, birth and death cost the Timorese much money due to very large families.) Therefore, industriousness, diligence and hard work are values still to be attained.


Source: Bishop Belo Centre for Peace and Development, East Timorese work values in the process of nation-rebuilding: a study in Dili, East Timor, 2004

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

A culture of dependence

I’m beginning to feel uncomfortable about the issue of dependency. In the past couple of weeks, we have experienced four instances where Timorese acquaintances have asked for a job or money. The first occurred with the family from whom we rent our home. Senyor Raphael came to us and asked if he could borrow $100 so that he could take his oldest son to Baucau where he was to begin a training course in electronics. He would live in a home stay situation and be gone for three months during which time he needed money for his fees and board. Senyor said that he was waiting to be paid from his new job again building roads in Ermera district and said he would repay us within the week. So we leant him the money. A week passed by and no word from Senyor. After about 10 days, he said that he was still waiting to be paid and now the family had no money to eat. Could we lend him a few more dollars? We gave him $20 knowing that we had to pay the rent soon and could reduce the amount from what he owed us.

When we were away for the weekend, one of the AVIers told us that she was looking for a nurse to work at the community child nutrition project she works at. I told her that one of my colleague’s husband was a nurse in Baucau looking to move back to Dili to be with his wife and child and with another on the way. I told her that I would tell my colleague about the job and that she should let her husband know. On Monday morning at work, I told my colleague about the job and it transpired that her husband was still in Dili that day so could go to the clinic with his CV and have an interview that morning. This he did. After I talked to my colleague about the job, my colleague who I share an office with turned to me and said “Mana Samantha, you have a job for my husband?” I asked if he was a nurse and she replied no, he worked in agriculture. I said that I only heard about this particular job for a nurse but I would keep my ears open for anything in agriculture but said it was unlikely I would hear of anything because I do not mix in agricultural circles. In addition, her husband already has a job in the government department of agriculture but one of my colleague’s primary interest in work is how much money she can make (not much different from the West). I find this totally discouraging as I am working for a feminist organisation working for the benefit of women yet I have noticed that not all women I work with are their for altruistic reasons. At the same time, I am reading a report from the Bishop Belo Centre for Peace and Development titled East Timorese work values in the process of nation-rebuilding: a study in Dili, East Timor, which only confirms my suspicions (further details in post titled Work culture, values and demographics).

Then today, my colleague told me that her husband was offered the job and she was very grateful to me. This afternoon she came and asked me if I could do her a favour and lend her money to contribute to the party for the one-year anniversary of her grandfather’s death, a big celebration in Timor called “kore metan” or untying the black band (close family must wear black for a year after an immediate relative’s death and the one-year celebration marks the time where they can stop wearing black). I asked how much and she said $100! I said that I would have to consult with Daniel and that I would let her know the following day. I talked to my only other “malae” colleague about it and she said that she had leant money to two colleagues in the two years she has been here but that she sets a limit on how much she will lend. She too finds it uncomfortable when they ask.

I think the thing that really upsets me is that in the case of the family we rent our home from, we gave them $1200 for three months rent in advance in late July and they spent it all within two months, mostly on continuing to build their new home next door. However, this money is three times the average annual GDP for the Timorese most of whom earn less than $1 a day. Also, Senyor has a job (on and off) which probably pays less than $100 a month but that still gives them an income of $500 a month when most Timorese earn less than that a year. Where does all the money go I ask? Likewise, my colleague earns $185.50 a month as an executive secretary and her husband around $130 as a nurse. They live with their family of origin so I assume do not pay rent. However, after more probing I discovered that my colleague participates in a scheme with three of her Timorese colleagues whereby they each give one person in the scheme $100 a month so that they can make major purchases or contribute to major celebrations with the extra $300. They take it in turns each month and this month is my colleague’s turn but she has to wait until payday, which is the last day of the month. So perhaps in her case I can be a bit more understanding and willing to lend her the money.

Two “malae” have told me that the Timorese are not very good money managers, problem solvers, or planners. They do things like wait until they’ve completely run out of electricity before going to buy some more credit instead of planning for it in advance. My workplace often runs out of toilet paper and drinking water because no thought has gone into buying more before it runs out. Again, I’m sure it’s a result of their poor education and so little experience (in terms of years) with earning a wage. Still, I’m most uncomfortable with people I hardly know asking me to loan them money. It creates a culture of dependency that the Timorese simply cannot rely on, as “malae” won’t always be here. Also, it does nothing to increase their skills in problem solving, planning and managing their finances.

Traditions associated with bride price, marriage and funerals cost the Timorese a lot of money. Many go into debt, which they can ill afford and often at the expense of sending their children to school. Even the Bishop of Dili has said that the practice of spending so much money on these traditions must stop if the Timorese are to get ahead.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Hatubuilico and Mount Ramelau

Friday 30 September was another public holiday but this time only for Dili to allow its residents to vote for their “xefi sucos” (village chiefs or mayors). Eager for any excuse to get out of the capital, after lunch, along with another AVIer we headed south to the village of Hatubuilico the base for climbing Gunung Tatamailau (Mount Ramelau), at 2963 meters, the highest peak in Timor. On the way, we collected another AVIer in Aileu. Both AVIers were the ones we originally came to Timor with. The trip was ostensibly to celebrate our first three months in Timor.

Hatubuilico is southwest of Dili and part of the Mambae (dialect) region. It took us 5 hours to drive the 100km distance to Hatubuilico. The final 18km was along a very narrow and windy gravel road where our speed slowed down to 5-10km an hour. As a result, it took about 1.5 hours to drive a mere 18km! After about 12km, we turned off onto the wrong road and ended up trying in vain to drive up a muddy strip of a path but the 4WD didn’t like it one bit. There were two Timorese men herding their water buffalo and so we got out of the car and asked them the direction to Hatubuilico. It turned out that we had driven off the main road and had to backtrack a few hundred metres. In appreciation, we gave the old man two cup cakes purchased in Aileu which he seemed very pleased with given his big toothless smile. We hoped he would give one to his younger comrade but weren’t too sure this would happen as all the way along the 18km stretch of road, little children would come running out of their traditional thatched roof houses shouting “agua” (water) or “dosi” (sweet cakes) at us. We hoped it wasn’t what we suspected, that given the dry and hungry seasons, the children were in fact very thirsty (and hungry) and wanted at the very least, water from us. Unfortunately, we couldn’t give them any on the way up but on our return trip we gave away what little we had left.

We spent the night in the pousada at Hatubuilico; a lovely little place which only opened two years ago. It is owned and run by a man called Alex who is also in charge of secondary education for the district of Ainaro. He is fluent in both English and Portuguese (in addition to Tetun, Bahasa and Mambae) and had many books in his office. I asked him where he learned English and he said in a seminary in Dili. He would have been one of the 15% of Timorese who were educated under Portuguese rule, of which only 5% are still alive today.

We had purchased food from one of the three supermarkets in Dili that morning, so had a luxurious Western feast for dinner consisting of multigrain bread imported from Malaysia, cheese from New Zealand, olives from Spain, vegemite from Australia, red capsicum from goodness knows where and Belgian chocolate chip biscuits from England. Not one skerrick of Timorese food, which was what one of our companions wanted during the trip (she is heartedly sick of white rice and slimy green vegetables grown in the sewers of Dili). We went to bed early and for the first time since arriving in Timor, had to sleep with blankets! I had two on my bed and was still so cold that I did not sleep very well.

The following morning for breakfast, two young girls (Alex’s daughters) served us breakfast: coffee and shallow fried sweet dough like greasy hard bread. I don’t drink coffee so had a few pieces of the bread which weren’t too bad but decided to also open a can of peaches from Australia (how I miss stone fruits and berries). We then prepared ourselves to leave for the big climb up Mount Ramelau.

At 9:20am, at a meadow at 2280m we commenced the walk. Near the beginning of the walk, we saw about seven ponies and then passed through a eucalypt forest. In fact, the only trees growing on the mountain appeared to be eucalypt and wattle so you could be mistaken for bushwalking in Australia. There were some birdcalls but we could not spot the owners, but closer to the top a flock of swifts guided our way.

At about two-thirds the way up, the back of my heel on my left foot was in a lot of pain and I knew I had a blister. We stopped and I discovered no blister but a very red raw patch of new skin as I had rubbed off the top layer. I put a bandaid on. Unfortunately, the bandaid then moved inside my sock and the pain started again. We stopped again, and this time Daniel put on elastoplast kindly given to us by one of our companions. I also put on her socks underneath mine to give more padding to my heels. As we took off again, we had our first fall, as one of our companions fell flat on her face trying to scramble up some very slippery rocks. A little further on, we felt our blood sugar levels falling and stopped to have a snack of strange tasting vegetable biscuits from China (with no translation of ingredients into English, Daniel could only make out some of the Chinese characters) and muesli pieces from New Zealand. We soldiered on under a cloudless bright blue sky and piercing sun with great views south to the ocean.

After our snack, we came across the most perilous part of the journey: a narrow path, strewn with slippery rocks, with much evidence of recent landslides that had been patched up (and you wouldn’t want to test the patches) combined with strong cold gusty winds that we thought would knock us off the side of the mountain. Most of this path was incredibly steep and we wondered how we would ever get down again. We finally came across a flat meadow where outdoor religious ceremonies are held twice a year on 13 October and 13 May to celebrate “Nossa Senhora de Fatima” (Our Lady of Fatima) (further details below). It was here that one of our companions decided to call it quits as she was exhausted. It was another 20-30 minutes to the top and I just decided I hadn’t come this far without getting to the highest point in Timor, so Daniel and I pushed on ahead. Meanwhile, our other companion was already at the top of Mount Ramelau.

The view at the top was marred by poor visibility but we could see down to the south coast. On a good day, you can see all the way to the north coast and Atauro Island as well (we have since been told that in the dark, the lights of Darwin can also be seen). The three of us stopped for a good hour and ate the rest of our food (almonds from who knows where, dried fruit from Australia). We had also just about finished our 1.5 litre bottles of water. I put a knee brace on my right knee in preparation for the return journey, as I knew it would be far tougher than the ascent. I have one leg shorter than the other (you’d never notice) which puts pressure on my right knee when walking down mountains and at times, has caused me excruciating pain. We took a couple of photos with the Virgin Mary and then started our descent at around 3pm.

Our companions walked ahead of us while Daniel had to slow down for me as very quickly I felt the pain in my right knee and began to compensate by putting more pressure on the left side of my body. I soon found two broken off branches of a wattle tree and used these like ski poles to take pressure off my knees. However, due to the steepness of the descent, we were soon walking sideways very slowly, and at times, getting down onto our bottoms. It was incredibly slippery with all the rocks, which slowed us down further. I spent most of the climb down walking sideways, which of course, makes for very slow going. About half an hour from the end, I fell over on some slippery rocks and crash-landed on my bottom. It was very difficult to get up, as I could not bend my right knee due to the brace. Soon after this little incident, one of our companions came back up the mountain to look for us. Our companions were very worried as they had been back at the car for nearly two hours with no sign of us. One of them had tried to call us but as there was no mobile phone reception, could not get through. They were on the verge of calling customer care (our medical insurers) in Australia!

We had been gone so long that Alex rode out on his motorcycle to see if we were okay. Thankfully, he came just as we were approaching our final 5 minutes of the walk down. We finally made it to the bottom of the mountain at 7pm; a very long and tiring four-hour return journey. All up, we had walked seven odd hours although our companions did it in less time. We discovered one of them had also fallen over on her way down the very dangerous section and ended up with a large purple bruise on her upper right thigh, much like the one I sustained when hit by the door of the "mikrolet". Daniel was the only one not to have a tumble although he ended up with sunburn on his arms and the back of his neck.

We were all exhausted. When we arrived back at the pousada, a plate of small greasy chips were waiting for us. Unfortunately, they were cold as I expect Alex thought we would return sooner. Three of us decided to order some dinner from Alex’s family and in due course, were served with white rice, snow peas and very spicy noodles, and a very hot and spicy side dish consisting of onions, garlic, chili and a green herb or vegetable. We also opened a can of baked beans from Australia and I ate them cold with the rice and vegetables in order to drown out the spiciness. We also ate more of the multigrain bread, cheese and vegemite. We opened a bottle of chardonnay from Australia (the only cold thing we had apart from beer which I don’t like) and drunk it with dinner. For dessert, we had the Belgian chocolate chip biscuits from England. We were so tired and the water in the “mandi” so cold that we decided to go to bed unwashed. I put another very heavy blanket on my bed so now I had three, but soon discovered I was now too hot! I got rid of the other two blankets but I was so sore from the climb that I didn’t sleep well yet again.

The following morning we were served coffee and cooked taro, neither of which I touched. Our companions took one bite of the taro and promptly ate something else: more multigrain bread and vegemite and the last of the tinned peaches (oh how I love Western food!). The water was still so cold in the “mandi” that I refused to wash while everyone else did a mini wash for as long as they could bear the cold.

We said our goodbyes to Alex and paid him $10 a night each plus $1 for breakfast each and $3 for dinner each and began the long journey home. Along the 18km road out of Hatubuilico we gave away our remaining water and some sweet biscuits for good measure to some of the many children who approached us. If ever I return to the village during the wet and hungry seasons, I will buy extra water beforehand to give away to the children.

Lonely Planet’s description of the climb up Mount Ramelau is deceptive. They make it sound very easy when in fact it is not. It is a difficult climb and they should say so along with warnings about slippery rocks and landslides. It took us twice as long to get up and down as the book says it should (7 versus 3 hours). Granted I’m a slow and steady-she-goes kind of gal with a one leg short problem but really, 3 hours up and back!

Above: Productive rice paddies in the river valley of Ailieu.

Above: More views over the rice paddies.

Above: On the road with our intrepid friends along what might be a walking track in most of Australia.


Above: It is hard to really get your head around how hilly Timor is until you spend some time actually imagining how you would walk from one point to another.

Above: The man who was good enough to tell us we were going the wrong way, saving us much time, trouble and a possible bogging. He was well rewarded with a cupcake.


Above: The mountain from afar, perhaps not as spectacular as some - but within Timorese culture Mt Ramelau is one of the prime "fatin luliks" or places of deep spiritual significance and taboo. It seemed to me (Daniel) that the "malae" habit of climbing it without good reason was thought to be a little frivilous (and dangerous) by some.


Above: Hatubuilico.

Above: Hatubuilico's school, doubling as public space.

Above: More of the scattered homes of Hatubuilico.


Above: A rogue bonsai bathed by the morning sun.


Above: Waterwise Timor hasn't started up in Hatubuilico yet - this tap flowed the whole time we were here. Hopefully fed from some inexhaustible supply!

Above: Even in town there is no easy way to get from point A to B.

Above: More views around town, here the effects of erosion are evident in the deep gorges formed even by a small (in the dry season anyway) creek.

Above: An unfinished grotto with a plaque inscribed by Bishop Belo, but as yet unfurnished with its central object of worship.

Above: An example of Timor's unproductive soils, also reminiscent of the red clays of Australia.

Above: As in any country town, water buffalo wander freely.

Above: The pousada Alecrim Namrau, where we stayed.


Above: The other gig in town. The older and more spectacular of the two pousadas in Hatubuilico, the "blue roof" pousada wasn't open when we passed through.

Above: This was the sitting room in the pousada and it roughly models other arrangements we have seen in the more affluent Timorese homes. I'm not quite sure where to start?

Above: An absolutely marvellous tree next to our "fatin tobar" (sleeping place).

Above: Another intersting tree doubling as the signpost to where we stayed. It is lovely to see the inclusion of a street address on the sign just in case we became confused about which of the many roads the pousada was located on. (There is only one if you don't count the track to the church.)


Above: A few of the many Hatubuilico ponies with foals.

Above: The early parts of the path, quite civilised really.

Above: Timorese ponies.

Above: Ramelau was visible for most of the trek.

Above: Where there's smoke there's fire and when in Timor there's smoke - wherever you are!

Above: Another dramatic peak visible for most of the trek. In a lot of ways more dramatic than Ramelau, somehow reminiscent of an animal of some kind.

Above: While the photo doesn't really show it, at this point we could see all the way to Suai and the south coast. Wide empty riverbeds were visible winding their way to the sea.

Above: Sam rounds a corner with the view south sprawling behind her.


Above: Some hillsides were littered with dead and dying trees like this one.

Above: One of the steep sections, but thankfully one with decent footholds.


Above: Familiar trees in an unfamiliar country.

Above: This scene shows how much Australia and Timor share in terms of landscape and vegetation. Parts of the climb up Ramelau had me (Daniel) thinking I was bushwalking somewhere in the Snowy Mountains. This is near the high meadow where church services are held.

Above: The open air church and pilgrimage site.

Above: A feather placed by some unknown hand in a wall of moss. Can anyone identify the feather? Let us know.

Above: A somewhat ominous sign as you wind the windy paths towards the pinnacle of Ramelau.


Above: Whilst Mary remains a deeply conflicted symbol within a religion capable of as much hatred as compassion - I couldn't help but feel her extended arms are asking merely for the latter.

Above: Yum! Taro for brekkie!


Above: Wherever you go in Timor, burned out shells of buildings are ubiquitous. This is one of many standing by the road back to Dili.

We returned to Dili at around 5pm and that night Daniel and I watched The Bear Cub, a very engaging film about a gay bear man who looks after his nephew and the changes that relationship brings to his life. It was wonderfully acted with a great storyline. I highly commend it.

On Monday night at round 7:30pm, about 50 odd local people holding candles and singing a song made their way down our street and into the home of our family at the back. For the next hour, they sang Ava Maria, and said prayers. A similar number of people did the same with the family across the road (you know the ones). I was intrigued and thought that perhaps someone had died. Daniel and I began to recall which members of the family we had seen that morning and hoped that everyone was okay.

The following morning we went to ask Senyora Domingas if anything was wrong and what the ceremony last night was about. She said nothing was wrong and that the ceremony was for “Nossa Senhora de Fatima” (Our Lady of Fatima). I got out my Lonely Planet East Timor Phrasebook and looked up “Loron Boot” (Festivals & Holidays, literally big days). I suspected that this might be what the celebration was about as soon as Senyora showed us the shrine to the Virgin Mary and all the offerings on the table in their lounge room. This Catholic day celebrates the apparition of the Virgin Mary to three children in Fatima in Portugal on 13 May and 13 October. On these two days, thousands of Timorese walk up Mount Ramelau in the dark (in their thongs), to witness the dawn alongside the three metre statue of the Virgin Mary. I thought it ironic that we had done this climb ourselves so close to the actual day. Every night people will move the Virgin Mary to another home in the neighbourhood and this will continue throughout the month of October. They appear to have bypassed our home knowing that we’re “malae” and probably not Catholic (they’re correct!).

We’re both still suffering from the walk up Mount Ramelau. The left side of my body feels like it has endured a stroke (remarkably, my right knee is pain free), and Daniel is enduring the consequences of his sunburn. As a result, we are catching taxis again until such time as we feel 100% okay. I’m also experiencing my fourth health issue since arriving in Timor; this time it’s an anal fissure (very painful), diagnosed from a search on the Internet and caused I believe from bouts of diarrhoea alternating with constipation (due to a change in diet) and perhaps some dehydration (although I drink two litres of water a day). I will have to search out some bulking agents from the supermarket or chemist this weekend and just hope something is available. I’m doing my best to eat wholegrain products (brown rice, brown pasta, multigrain bread and crackers) imported from Germany, Malaysia and Australia but I do wonder about the Timorese and their very high processed carbohydrate diet. Surely, they must suffer from poor health (they do, as malnutrition, particularly in children is widespread). In addition, they rarely drink any water. Very few of my colleagues drink throughout the day and I understand that kidney problems are an issue here as well. The conjunctivitis in my left eye has made a comeback (maybe it never fully went away) so I’m self medicating again although contemplating making an appointment with Dr Mark at the Australian Embassy compound. However, I feel as if I’m beginning to sound like a hypochondriac but I have never suffered from so many health complaints one after the other!

One of my “malae” colleagues from Germany was so ill after only four months living here that he returned to Germany in mid August for tests and treatment as nothing could be done for him in Timor or Indonesia. We are still waiting to see whether he will return or not. Another AVIer in his mid 50s has had stomach and bowel problems that appear to be like gardia but no amount of treatment will cure him and he regularly has to make trips back to Australia. He now has a heart condition (maybe angina) and he and his wife have decided to leave Timor six months short of their two-year contract. There is no cardio specialist in Timor and taking one day to reach facilities by flying to Australia versus less than hour living in Australia, is enough incentive for them to return home. An Australian English teacher who teaches my colleagues has just been diagnosed with malaria. These are just a few examples of the health problems suffered by “malae” in Timor. As AVI tell us, the two biggest challenges facing volunteers no matter what country they’re in are health and language related. I completely concur.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)