At what age are you an adult?

Yesterday on Radio Australia, I heard an interesting story on the Innovations program about research being done on the brain to ascertain at what age it has fully developed. Surprisingly researchers have found that it is not until about the age of 25 that a brain can truly be termed adult. This has implications for public policy and the criminal justice system. In Australia, you are considered an adult at 18 years of age and at this point, you can legally drink, drive and be tried as an adult in a court of law. Young adult men some of whom end up in adult prisons conduct most risky behaviour, which according to the researchers, does not normally end until the age of 25. A suggestion therefore is to establish a new tier of the criminal justice system for young people between the ages of 18 and 25. I think this a good idea. But what about drinking and driving? Both of which are the cause of many preventable deaths of this age group. Would we accept raising the minimum age from 18 to 25 (I doubt it)?

If we are not really adults until we are 25, should we also not become parents until at least this age? Although biologically we might be ready in our early teens, our brains are now telling us otherwise. (As my father used to say, as soon as a girl starts menstruating, she is ready for childbearing, which may be biologically true but it isn’t physiologically, psychologically or emotionally thus.)

Just imagine a youth and family policy for Timor, which encouraged its ever-burgeoning population of young people not to become parents until at least the age of 25. (This of course would require that sex education be taught at school and contraception made widely and cheaply available.) Imagine how many fewer babies would be born to each woman? Imagine how many fewer deaths of both mother and baby and attendant suffering there would be? Just imagine what the women of Timor could also do and accomplish with their lives if they were not burdened to carry, feed and nurture 8 young lives?

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

My colleague returns to work

My colleague who gave birth to her second child on 1 December has returned to work after two months maternity leave. She is entitled to three months leave but last year she was worried about losing her job so I suspect she has chosen to return early (not that there is any possibility of her losing her job but I can’t convince her of that). She has returned even earlier than our colleague who gave birth three weeks before her and who is due back at work next week.

This colleague is the same one that we visited at home just before Christmas (see A visit to a mother and her newborn) and whose sister-in-law was murdered by her husband (see Pregnant woman killed by her husband).

I’m really going to have to pluck up the courage to talk to her about family planning. After she had her first child, she also returned to work very early (but then not because she was fearful of losing her job but because the NGO she worked for previously would not give her three months leave, as she was not strictly entitled to it. My NGO makes no such distinction, as after all, it’s a women’s rights organisation!). Because she was not breastfeeding her baby as much as she would have had she been at home, her menstrual cycle probably returned to normal and this combined with her and her husband’s lack of knowledge about family planning and child spacing (despite the fact that he is a nurse!) meant she was pregnant again within five months of giving birth. Becoming pregnant again so quickly was potentially damaging to her and her unborn child’s health along with the health of her first child.

When women do not take the full three months paid maternity leave they are entitled to their child suffers from not being breastfeed on demand. Timorese babies are normally underweight at birth and should be fed with as much breast milk as the mother can produce in order to fatten them up! That cannot be done effectively if the mother has returned to work early and even if she does go home at lunchtime to feed her baby. This shortsightedness can result in more serious problems as many babies are introduced too early to other liquids such as contaminated water, which can lead to diarrhoea and even death. Timor has a serious problem with babies not being breastfed exclusively for the first six months.

As babies should be exclusively breastfed for six months, paid maternity leave should be extended to at least that period of time (mind you, Australia has no such provisions unless you’re a civil servant or your organisation understands the needs of mothers and small babies. Australia along with the USA are the only two countries of the OECD not to offer universal basic paid maternity leave which the International Labour Organisation (ILO) says should be a minimum of 14 weeks).

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Tasitolu Peace Park lakes united

Early this evening we walked along the beach to Tasitolu Peace Park. We had not been for over a month and in that time the wet season had really commenced. As we expected, two of the lakes have now joined and there is no longer the possibility of circumnavigating the area as we once did during the dry season. There were still few migratory birds although swifts abounded along with another new small colourful bird, which we could not get close enough to to guess its species. It may have been a small kingfisher.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Health woes continue

I have conjunctivitis again! and this time, Daniel does too. So we’re both looking rather puffy eyed until our course of antibiotic eye drops does its job. I had to purchase a bottle from the chemist and it cost $5 (the Australian Embassy doctor charges $20 for an Australian equivalent). I felt this was a lot considering most Timorese earn less than $1 a day. Given the cost, it doesn’t surprise me that so many children walk around with untreated conjunctivitis and therefore why it’s so widespread here. No prescriptions exist in Timor so all medications can be bought over the counter. Most of the drugs originate in Indonesia.

I have also strained the ligaments in my right foot just below my anklebone. Most of the time I don’t notice it, but at least a couple of times a day when my foot is in a certain position, I can feel it and it really hurts. Not much can be done for it other than to massage it.

Very few people in Timor know the proper medical terms for diseases, illnesses and the like. This also applies to plants (eg frangipani (its botanical name) is known here as St Antony). As Timor is overwhelmingly a premodern society, modern scientific rational education is all but non-existent. For example, despite my saying the word “konjuntivite” and writing it on a piece of paper to show the woman in the chemist, she had no idea what that was. I then had to think of the vernacular word for it, which is “matan mean” (eyes red). Although this is similar to our vernacular word “pink eye”, most people would also know its medical name, but not in Timor.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Mr Bibi Malae

I’ve named our “bibi malae” (sheep) “Mr Bibi Malae”. I debated whether I should give him a more personal name but decided against it for my own sake: he could very well end up as dinner and much needed protein for “our family” and because I know they need to eat him more than he needs to live, I don’t want to grow too attached.

I talk to “Mr Bibi Malae” every morning when I leave for work and the other day he wanted to lick my hand. I saw this as progress in our blossoming relationship (or was it just that he wanted the salt from my ever-perspiring skin?) One day this week, one of the boy’s from “our family” saw me talking to “Mr Bibi Malae” and I was a little embarrassed (I’ve never seen a Timorese talk to an animal).

We sat down for a chat with “our family” last night after presenting them with a large packet of Arnott’s Family Favourite biscuits in honour of Australia/Invasion Day. (However, we chose not to go into the politics surrounding the day because the issues are too complicated for us to communicate in in a language we are still learning.) During the course of the evening “our family” told us they all knew that I was talking to “Mr Bibi Malae” (word travels fast in these parts) and they thought this hysterical, especially when I told them that “Mr Bibi Malae” was from Baucau and I knew this because he told me himself! (As much as I like to think of myself as “Ms Doolittle”, I knew “Mr Bibi Malae” was from Baucau because I asked the very same son who spied me talking to him and who reported my strange behaviour to “our family”.)

Alberto’s family gave the “bibi malae” to “our family” and he is the first of many gifts to come during his courtship with Argentina.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Australia/Invasion Day

I received a text message on my mobile phone from the Australian Embassy inviting me to an informal function to celebrate Australia Day (all Australians visiting or living in Timor are encouraged to register their contact details with the Embassy so that they can communicate with its citizens as necessary).

Daniel decided not to attend as he felt it was Invasion not Australia Day. I also agreed but wanted to go in order to have material to write about for the blog and I confess in the hope that they served up the classic Aussie dessert pavlova (to my great disappointment they didn’t)! (Just this week we received Christmas presents from Daniel’s family of origin and one of the gifts was an Aussie homesick pack, which contained a recipe for making pavlova. Unfortunately, we have no oven!)

“The appalling health and living conditions endured today by many Indigenous
Australians is a denial of their human rights. What outrages me is that
Australians are not more outraged.”

Professor Fiona Stanley AC, Australian of the Year 2003, Sorry Day 26 May 2003

Australia Day really needs to be moved to a more appropriate and inclusive day. The 26th of January commemorates the day in 1788 that the British (by way of English Captain James Cook) took possession of Australia. By 1818 non-Indigenous Australians celebrated the date as Foundation Day, later Australia Day. But for Indigenous Australians the date symbolises invasion and dispossession. Aboriginal people boycotted its centenary in 1888, declared a Day of Mourning in 1938 and boycotted the 1988 Bicentenary. More recently it has become known as Invasion Day and is commemorated with rallies and ‘survival’ concerts. Choosing this day is insensitive to Indigenous Australians, the traditional owners, as it marked the beginning of the violation of their human rights, which continue in some form to this day, particularly where this concerns their right to self-determination, good health and education.

We had to proffer photocopies of the personal details page of our passports in order to gain entry to the venue. The man ahead of me was the very same one who described the Timorese as “greedy bastards” (see my very first post from Timor Sam checks in after nearly checking out). I thought, “oh dear, this is a bad omen”.

There were many Australians in attendance whom I had never laid eyes on before. Most I would guess were working on various Australian Agency for International Development (AusAID) funded Official Development Assistance (ODA) projects such as in: planning and finance, police and justice, law and justice, health, rural development, fisheries, water supply and sanitation, community assistance, education (development scholarships for Timorese to study in Australia) and emergency and humanitarian. It felt a little weird to be surrounded by so many Aussies but you could not mistake it for an Australian setting, as there were numerous Timorese also invited (mostly local Embassy staff). Unfortunately, as these things usually happen, the two groups overall remained separate.

As there were more blokes than women it was hard not to notice the blokes who stood around with their beer cans held at their bulging bellies. Meanwhile numerous teenage boys who looked like they belonged in Kuta, Bali hovered around looking bored. I wondered why there were so many younger people around but then remembered it was the school holidays and they were probably visiting their dads, many of whom are army and police types. It was a classic Aussie scene and one, which I have never felt any affinity with.

I was pleased to see the First Lady of Timor-Leste, Kirsty Sword Gusmão (an Aussie) attend along with her three children. This time I got a better look at the kids including baby Daniel and they’re really really adorable. With their mum, they spent the afternoon frolicking in the swimming pool.

I had a couple of glasses of Australian chardonnay, a bottle of Bundaberg Ginger beer (non-alcoholic and absolutely delicious) and soon discovered that the vegetarian food on offer wasn’t very good (yet again!) So I scoffed many a veggie spring role, raw carrot and cucumber sticks dunked into various dips such as avocado, tziki, capsicum and corn relish; and I nicked a piece of white bread from the barbecue area and smothered it in avocado dip. I was so hoping for some veggie sausages but none was forthcoming.

I had a chance to talk to a Sri-Lankan Australian pathologist who works at the Dili National Hospital so I took the opportunity to grill him about Dengue Fever. He told me that currently there are only two strains of Dengue in Timor but that there is no testing available to tell those infected, which strain it is or (in my case) what they are now immune to; that can only be done in Australia. So I will have to wait for my return in order to find out which strain I have immunity to. He also said that the Dengue season was well under way having begun in November and would continue until about March/April. Many children had already died and would continue to do so. Fortunately, it does not appear to be as severe as it was last year, as severe outbreaks tend to come in five-year cycles. Still, children are dead.

Upon departing, it began to rain, and two Aussie blokes working for an AusAID project at the Timor government’s Ministry of Planning and Finance gave me a lift back to town. It was most generous of them to give a fellow Aussie a lift in rainy Dili on this inauspicious day.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

The changing face of politics

This morning I attended a workshop organised by my NGO and UNIFEM. The title of the workshop was: “Partisipasaun feto iha polítiku: Workshop atu evalua feto nia presiza polítiku ba eleisaun 2007” (Women’s political participation: workshop to evaluate women’s political needs for the 2007 election). There are two more such workshops scheduled for between now and March in preparation for the looming Legislative and Presidential elections (date to be decided but either late this year or early 2007 as the current mandate ends May 2007).

The National Parliament currently has 23 women members of the Parliament (MPs) out of a total of 87 members (26%). Women also hold three key Ministerial positions (Planning and Finance, State Administration and Public Works) and four deputy Ministerial positions (Planning and Finance, State Administration, Foreign Affairs and Education). More recently and aided by special reservations seats, over 1,000 women were elected to positions in village councils and as chiefs of villages and hamlets.

The venue for the workshop was the Hotel Timor, the most expensive hotel in Timor and where all visiting dignitaries stay. I had never been inside before and it was such a revelation to do so. I actually felt like I could have been anywhere in the Western world. The interior was decked out in expensive fittings and there was even a coffee bar complete with espresso machine. The venue is also where the elite “malae” come to chat every weekday at 1pm and to which Daniel was invited once (see Lihu, Railaco, Ermera).

A guest speaker was a bloke from the Australian Labor Party! It was a very surreal experience to hear him talk about the ALP’s attempts at getting more women elected to parliament, particularly as the founding member of the Green Women’s Network of Victoria. A “malae” woman translated his talk into Tetum. During question time, one Timorese woman was quite wound up about the Australian political scene and for too long a time, the question and answer period was dominated by irrelevant issues from my home country.

The most inspiring speaker at the workshop was a young Timorese woman (<20)>

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Living dangerously

On my regular morning journey to work this morning, the “mikrolet” stopped by a roadside petrol stall. With the car still running, the female owner of the stall poured a container of petrol into the vehicle. I wondered whether I should briefly jump out onto the kerb just in case we all went up in flames but decided, against my better judgement, to live dangerously. I arrived at my destination safely.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

“Baku malu” number 2

One of Daniel’s “malae” colleagues left Timor today after living here for nearly two years. His new destination is Yemen (I thought it was rather apt given that Timor’s Prime Minister is of Yemeni descent)! Daniel therefore becomes the second longest current serving “malae” at his NGO and he’s only been there for seven months! No wonder the Timorese are often reluctant to get to know “malae”; they come and go so often that it isn’t worth their time or effort.

A farewell party was held last night for this departing colleague. After eating white rice, tempe, tofu and vegetables and drinking a can of soft drink while talking to some of Daniel’s “malae” female colleagues we left around 9:30pm in a packed car (Daniel, me, one Timorese male driver, two Timorese women and one other “malae” woman). But first, we followed home a Timorese female colleague on her motorbike. I thought this very strange but I was told by another of Daniel’s Timorese female colleagues that after dark, solo women on motorbikes are sometimes rammed from behind by males in cars in order to knock them off their bikes so that they can assault the woman! My goddess I thought, how dreadful!

We subsequently heard that the party went until the wee hours of 4am until a “baku malu” (fight) ended it! Apparently, the NGOs security guard let in a group of local young men who were prowling the streets looking for a party (error number one). These men soon discovered that one of the few Timorese men present at the party (the partner of one of Daniel’s female “malae” colleagues) lived in an area of Dili that is engaged in a turf war with the area the group was from and threatened to beat him up after the party. The “malae” in whose honour the party was being held, heard this and told the group that they would do no such thing and fuelled by too much alcohol initiated a “baku malu” (error number two). People were hurt including the soon to depart “malae” and the Timorese man from the “wrong” area of Dili. Eventually the problem group of Timorese men were removed from the premises because there were so many more very big “malae” men who outnumbered the Timorese men. The police were also called. However, the Timorese men threatened to do more damage to both the Timorese man from the “wrong” area and the premises of Daniel’s NGO! Now the Director of the NGO has to go and see the “xefe suku” (village chief) and sort things out before the building is fire bombed by residents of the neighbourhood! You’d never guess that this NGO is a leading Human Rights organisation by the behaviour of some of its staff!

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

CAVR report handed to UN

Today in New York, the President of Timor-Leste, Xanana Gusmão, handed the 2,500 page Commission for Reception, Truth and Reconciliation (CAVR) report to the Secretary General of the United Nations Kofi Annan (see Juggling Pragmatic Politics with Bloody Past). On this notable day, I would like to remind the Government of Timor-Leste and the United Nations Security Council of the following passage from the United Nations Security Council Resolution 1325 on Women, Peace and Security, dated 31 October 2000:

“11. Emphasizes the responsibility of all States to put an end to impunity and to prosecute those responsible for genocide, crimes against humanity, war crimes including those relating to sexual violence against women and girls, and in this regard, stresses the need to exclude these crimes, where feasible from amnesty provisions;”

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Dead “baleia” in Dili harbour

The traffic was banked up on the road that follows the coast through Dili and tens of people were crowded on the street and foreshore. What could it be? We strained to see through the windows of the taxi and saw something floating in the water. It was hard to make out exactly what it was so after we had lunch I went down to the beach to investigate. It turned out to be two dead mating baleen “baleia” (whales) and very “dodok” (rotten) ones at that! The stench was enough for some Timorese to cover their noses and mouths. The male “baleia” was 2.4 metres long and had died from injuries sustained from a deep gash down one side of its body, presumably caused by the spear of a fisherman or the propeller of a boat. The female died from unknown injuries. Their presence attracted a lot of attention. When I returned to work, I told my colleagues about it and they all rushed off to see the latest attraction in Dili harbour. When they returned, I asked my colleague if this had happened before and she said yes, dead and alive whales wash up on the beaches of Timor. The “baleia” were subsequently cut up and buried presumably at the Dili tip in Tibar.

At the same time, I heard on the BBC World News, about a five-metre northern bottle-nosed whale which became stranded in London’s River Thames; a whale which is normally found in the deep waters of the north Atlantic. This was the first sighting of the species in the Thames since records began a hundred years ago and never had a whale come so far up the Thames, passing the Houses of Parliament this very morning. Despite rescue efforts, the whale died from multiple causes.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Tropical cyclone Daryl

Tropical cyclone Daryl has battered Timor with fierce winds for the past four or five days. Destroyed were approximately 200 houses and corn crops in several districts. This has caused serious problems for the Timorese in the affected districts because a food shortage is likely due to the severely impaired corn harvest. At home in the evenings in Rai Kotu we enjoyed the cool air the winds brought with it while wondering about the cause in the change of weather, not thinking that there could be serious consequences for Timorese subsistence farming families. The category 3 storm originated off the northwest coast of Australia.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Pregnant woman killed by her husband

The most disturbing news my colleague shared with me however was the murder of a pregnant woman by her husband. The woman was three months pregnant and her husband hacked her to pieces with a machete simply because she refused to go and live with his family! Apparently, he also told her that he had come to take what was “rightfully” his and while murdering her removed the foetus from her womb. The woman is the sister of my friend’s colleague and this colleague is the “husband” of the woman I work with who just had her second child (it was her sister-in-law who was murdered).

The case reminds me of the murder in March 2004 of a fourth month pregnant woman in Victoria, my home state. Her husband murdered her with a speargun and four days later murdered their twenty-month-old daughter. He then placed their remains in waste collection bins. Why? Because he was unhappy in his marriage and felt his wife was controlling and moody! Ever heard of divorce!? A forensic psychiatrist described him as socially inept, dependant, passive and a retiring individual who was unable or reluctant to confront problems.

For his crimes, the Victorian man received two life sentences. However, I’m not sure that the Timorese man will even receive one life sentence. The judicial system in Timor is so utterly woeful that the most heinous of crimes often go unpunished or light sentences are meted out. I will be interested to hear of the outcome of this particular case.

The United Nations Declaration on the Elimination of Violence against Women (1993) cites “violence against women [as] one of the crucial mechanisms by which women are forced into a subordinate position compared with men”.

As in Timor, as in Australia as in every country in the world; may she and all women murdered by their male partners or relatives rest in peace.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

An AVI colleague returns home early

Today I had lunch with one of the two other AVIers that we originally came with to Timor. She told me that our other colleague was not returning to her position as an English teacher and trainer in Aileu. She had gone to Bali for 10 days followed by 10 days home to Australia and there supported by her family of origin, she made the decision not to return. I don’t blame her as her situation sounded very difficult indeed.

Aileu is located in the highlands (mountainous interior) of Timor, 47km south of Dili. (It is lovely and cool up there not hot and humid like Dili.) The total district population is approximately 36,000 of whom half live in Aileu town where my colleague lived. Agriculture is the backbone of Aileu’s economy with more than 95% of the population deriving its income from agriculture practice. Although the main form of farming is subsistence farming, several cash crops are grown eg coffee, mangoes, oranges, corn and rice. There are approximately 500 public sector workers in the district most of whom are employed in the education sector; the private sector is very small (kiosks, market stalls etc) and mostly self-employed. The teacher student ratio is about 1:40 and most children do not attend school beyond the primary level. There are three doctors from Cuba for the whole district, 19 midwives and 26 nurses. About half the population have no access to health care.

There are approximately 25 “malae” in Aileu town half of whom are native English speakers. Most of them are American sisters and lay missionaries from the Maryknoll Sisters order based in the USA or volunteers from the secular American organisation Peace Corps. The other half are made up of Portuguese employed by their government to teach the teachers Portuguese; also Brazilians, one German, one Czech; and one Bolivian and two Filipinos sisters from Maryknoll. My colleague was the only Australian.

My colleague had no running water in her home despite assurances that the broken water pump would be fixed, so she had to obtain water for the bathroom and kitchen from elsewhere in town and cart it home in huge containers on her motorcycle; she also had to buy 19-litre bottles of purified drinking water, and transport these on her motorcycle to her house.

Power is only supplied in Aileu from 6pm to midnight and Sunday mornings (a concession to the church) which makes teaching and living challenging. Access to the Internet is only available from the District Administrator’s office (the highest-ranking government official for a district). The few functioning squat toilets at her school were so disgusting (mainly due to the fact that there are not enough for the total number of students and teachers but also because there was not enough water to flush them with due to the dry season), that throughout the day she would have to return home to use the toilet! Moreover, she was forced to teach grammatically incorrect English at the government secondary school and was told that she had to stick with the offending textbook from Indonesia despite protestations that it was inappropriate (I cannot imagine having to do a job for 18 months knowing that what you are doing is incorrect but being told to do it anyway!) She also suffered from poor nutrition and health as she struggled to take care of herself in a very challenging environment. Furthermore, she felt isolated and unsupported.

Although her situation and stresses were mostly different to mine, her story is just one example of how difficult it can be for “malae” to live and work as volunteers in Timor and why many choose to return home early.

The three of us are going up to her place in Aileu this weekend to pack up her stuff for her.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Giving lifts to strangers

I was waiting for a “mikrolet” but as it was 8pm, they were few and far between; and at this time of night, you cannot be guaranteed one at all. While waiting, I had to constantly engage my head in a “no” movement for the hordes of taxis wanting my business and as usual, got increasingly annoyed at their persistence in beeping at me as if I were a sex worker!

I flagged down an approaching “mikrolet” thinking it might be my route number 10 (remember without streetlights it is very difficult to see such things as a number on a “mikrolet”) but it turned out to be a “mikrolet” come school bus of young teenage girls. Their teacher asked where I was going and then said hop on in Tetum. I took my seat amongst the giggling girls. In my very basic Tetum, I ascertained that they were year 9 students from St Josephs secondary school in Balide (a suburb of Dili); a very famous school where the brightest students of Timor usually end up (most of Daniel’s Timorese colleagues attended this school). They had had basketball practice after school hence their late return home. Their coach and teacher was driving them while their maths teacher (and perhaps junior coach) sat in the passenger seat. While they were dropped off home one by one in different parts of Dili, the girls asked (in Tetum) my name, where I was from, where I lived and where I worked. Upon telling them (in Tetum) where I worked, one of the girls said she was the younger sister of the husband of the Director of my NGO; and another girl lived in my neighbourhood and had seen me about and knew where I lived as she said she was the younger sister of Senyor Raphael! It’s such a small world in Timor!

Upon approaching Rai Kotu, I saw Daniel’s head in the taxi in front of us, thus both the taxi and “mikrolet” arrived at our stop at the same time. “Fancy meeting you here” I said to Daniel as he exited the taxi and then I introduced him to the young girl who lives in our neighbourhood. We walked down the street together and she showed us were she lives. Upon arriving home, we immediately visited “our family” to tell them about the young girl and whether she was indeed Senyor’s younger sister. To begin with, he was perplexed, but then it transpired that the girl is from the same “aldeia” (ward/village) as Senyor in Bobonaro district. Timorese are very free in their use of the different words that make up members of a family and to whom they apply them, and if you come from the same village as someone, you will say they are “family” which of course confuses us “malae” who have a very limited definition of the word based on biology!

This is the second time that complete strangers have stopped and picked me up in their “mikrolet” and taken me home after dark. The first time occurred with Daniel and it was a family who lived in a suburb before ours but who were happy to drive us to Rai Kotu and then backtrack. I don’t know if this generosity of spirit is extended to all people (I assume it is) and not just us “malae” but it is really a wonderful feature of the culture that warms my heart.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Melody the cross dressing hairdresser

I had my first Timorese haircut this evening. It was done by Melody a male to female cross dresser (“paneleiru” in Tetum or “waria” in Bahasa Indonesia) from Malaysia. It appears that most hairdressers based at salons in Dili are cross dressers, transgenders and/or homosexual men (Daniel’s is a gay Indonesian man).

To begin with, the fluorescent light above my chair was not working so Melody removed an igniter from another and spent many minutes standing above me trying to get the light to function so that she could see what she was doing (it was one of those Third World moments that I find surreal).

Melody was dressed in very tight jeans and I noted that she had managed successfully to hide her penis and scrotum. She wore a short tight top that revealed her navel. Her hair was shoulder length, which she wore up on her head. She wore makeup but she had the tell tale stubble of male facial hair on her neck and chin. There was also another older male to female cross dresser sitting in the salon just passing time. A Malaysian woman was also present and I thought perhaps she was related to Melody (maybe her mother?) A balding Malaysian man came in towards the end of my time to have his hair cut by Melody. She charged me $3.

There is apparently a bit of an underground male cross dresser, transgender and homosexual scene in Dili which I am keen to learn more about and hope to write about in due course. Firstly, I have to contact a potential source of information to tell me where to look!

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

A film night for the kids

I had an idea this morning upon exiting the gate of our property and seeing all the children across the road as their mothers encouraged them to greet me in Tetum. Why don’t we hold a film/DVD night for the kids in our immediate neighbourhood? We have at least six appropriate films to choose from (Wallace and Gromit: The Curse of the Were-Rabbit, the doco March of the Penguins, and the Hayao Miyazaki films: Spirited Away, Princess Mononoke, Castle in the Sky and Howl’s Moving Castle). I thought we could ask “our family” if we could hold it at their place as they have a bigger TV and we could borrow a DVD player from my “malae” colleague (also it would be inappropriate to have it in our house; the kids would see our possessions and deduce quite correctly, that we live very different and prosperous lives). All the children in our immediate neighbourhood are related to one another so we can limit who we invite to this one extended family; although of course Daniel has since pointed out that word will soon get out and the hundreds of children who live in Rai Kotu will descend en masse on “our family’s” home! Still, it’s worth asking Senyor and Senyora what they think.

As to the films, we have a small dilemma in that although spoken in English or Japanese, they have subtitles available in Bahasa Indonesia. But, most of the children probably cannot read yet and if they can, probably aren’t fluent in Bahasa as it is slowly being phased out of the school curriculum (to be replaced with Portuguese!). But the subtitles are not available in Tetum (and never will be)! Mmmmm. Daniel thinks the kids would be just as happy to watch the images and I probably agree with him.

My first task is to research the classifications of each film on the Internet to see which film is appropriate to which age group. The problem is even if we invite a certain age group, others older and younger will probably turn up anyway! (It’s very hard to restrict certain groups from viewing even the television because doors and (if they have them) windows are always open in Timor and people crowd around watching.)

I’d also like to show the Australian film Hating Alison Ashley to the teenagers in the neighbourhood as there is not much creative cinematic output available for young adults in Timor (I would like them to see some Australian screen culture too).

However, I am torn about my idea: on the one hand I’m enthusiastic and on the other, I worry that my neighbours will then start to take liberties with my private space and time and this is what I fear the most (it would be perfectly reasonable for them to do so, it’s a communitarian culture not an individualistic one like mine which values privacy). We have kept pretty much to ourselves since moving in to our home and I worry that once we start to do something like this, there is the expectation for more. If we go ahead with the idea and it is successful, I wouldn’t mind running a film night once a month but I don’t want people to start knocking on my door for chats and “can I borrow?” What do you think? Post me a comment.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

The rape of a child

A little girl was roaming around the office and I asked my only other “malae” colleague who she was. She replied, “the young girl I told you about who was raped by her neighbour in Los Palos”. I was so shocked to see her because she is a mere 6 years old and her neighbour a 10-year-old boy actually vaginally raped her with his erect penis! As a result, she has an infection, which is being treated at the Dili National Hospital while she lives at our women’s shelter. None of her family have accompanied her (reasons unknown) but they refuse to initiate charges against the 10 year old boy, probably because as they all live in a small village, the children and their families will have to go on living together (in Australia, one of the families would in all likelihood move house; here that is simply next to impossible). Moreover, I’m sure that they will “resolve” it with traditional justice and the perpetrator’s family will probably give the victim’s family a buffalo or two in compensation for “taking” their little girl’s virginity which of course, now makes her less marketable for marriage. But just imagine being this little girl; you’re raped by your neighbour and then forced to return living next to him for the remainder of your childhood. My heart bleeds for her.

The little girl only speaks Fataluku, the local language of Lautem district, which has made communicating with her difficult for my colleagues only speak Tetum and various other local languages but not this particular one. However, because she is a child, she can learn a new language much quicker than we adults can; my colleagues have been teaching her Tetum so that they can communicate. She appears to be learning quickly.

I told Daniel about the little girl and wondered whether it would be appropriate to give her a small stuffed Australian toy, ten of which we had brought with us from Australia. Our intention was to give them to children we got to know but as there are so many children even in our little neighbourhood, we would need many more than ten to be able to fulfil this desire. So I chose a cute little koala and put it in my bag to give to the little girl the next time she came into the office.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Return to work

I returned to work this morning and to my surprise and delight, my colleagues were very happy to see me and most gave me the customary two kisses (one on each cheek) and inquired after my health. I found this to be a positive turn of events as I have experienced my Timorese colleagues as being quite uninterested, diffident and almost resentful of my presence (although of course they do like to call upon me when they need money!). I have tried to understand this in terms of the 24-year brutal occupation by Indonesia, which has justifiably made them suspicious and untrusting. I don’t like to think that the “genuine” Timorese culture is so unfriendly. Then again, perhaps they are also envious of what I have and therefore represent. My colleagues like to spend time looking over my things and asking me how much things cost. I’m very conscious of this and try not to be too flashy eg I rarely wear jewellery and once when I wore small gold earrings, I received a lot of attention and compliments. However, I have to bring my laptop to work with me because there is not a spare computer available (my only other “malae” colleague does the same) and even though I purchased it second-hand in Australia, it cost the equivalent of at least five months salary of most of my colleagues.

Unfortunately, I also discovered that I had been moved (yet again!) from the air-conditioned office back out to the open plan mosquito infested section where my team of two reside. The United Nations Fund for Women in Timor-Leste (UNIFEM) have sequestered the office for three months to work on a joint project with my NGO to get more women elected to parliament at next year’s national elections (all for a good cause and one that I wholeheartedly support). However, the lack of consultation that goes on at my NGO (and perhaps Timor?) is simply staggering (another example perhaps of the individual versus the communitarian). Because this is the second time in six months that I have been moved without my concurrence, I’m not as fazed by it as I was the first time. It does mean that I get to work with my colleagues again although it also means that I must douse myself in DEET every three hours in order to keep those Dengue mosquitoes at bay.

My second care package was also waiting for me. It took 6-8 weeks (the first one took 3 weeks) as it appears Australia Post decided to send it via surface not air mail this time (the vagaries of the postal service when it comes to sending things to Timor-Leste/East Timor). Very excitedly, I opened the box to find the books, DVDs and unscented deodorants I had ordered from my Aunt. Our house is now beginning to feel like a mini (and I mean mini) library much to our great satisfaction.

I talked to the coordinator of my team about the impending arrival of her fourth child who is due in six weeks. She will give birth in a clinic near the Comoro Market where the resident doctor is her cousin (remember, everyone knows everyone in Timor; they’re all somehow related to one another which is not hard to fathom in a country with less than one million people and an average birth rate of 8 children per woman). I plucked up the courage to ask her about contraception and to my surprise, she told me that she used the Calender method and that her first three children were all planned but that this current one was an accident. That’s pretty good given that she is 38 and delayed having her first child till she was 31 which is very late by Timorese standards.

My colleague had her first ultrasound in Bali during the first trimester (week 7). She was too early to have a maternal serum sample blood test (week 10) but I asked her if it was offered and she said no, so I assume that just as in Timor, women in Indonesian are not offered this test to detect the risk of chromosome disorders such as Down’s Syndrome and Edward syndrome or inherited genetic diseases such as Cystic Fibrosis. Nor are they offered a nuchal translucency ultrasound. I am now worried for my colleague and the Director of my NGO who is also due in 6 weeks time as they are both older women and the chances of them having a child with Down’s Syndrome for example is great. I just hope that they will both be blessed with healthy babies.

My colleague is going to pay $8 to have a second ultrasound in Dili in the coming weeks (only one free ultrasound is offered to pregnant women in Timor; in Australia it is three). However, she told me that the machine is often broken and the test cannot be performed (this is just so typical in Timor; late last year Dili experienced ongoing and ever frustrating power blackouts because one of the generators had broken down and there was no one in the country with the skills to fix it; the one and only cinema in the whole of Timor closed before we arrived and I have since speculated that perhaps this was due to the projector breaking down and again there was no one with the skills to fix it).

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

The price of things in Timor

We had the most appalling meal for $25, which in Bali for the equivalent you would get a top-notch East meets West three-course meal! It’s one of the very annoying things about Timor: for so many dollars all you get is crap.

Most things in Timor are double the price of what they are in Indonesia. For example, here petrol is 85c a litre, in Bali 45c. A 1.5 litre bottle of water here is 50c and in Bali 25c. Basic simple accommodation in Dili is $20 a night, in Ubud (Bali) $10. The electronic dictionary we bought for both my Timorese friend and Daniel in Kuta (Bali) are double the price in Dili.

The problem Timor has is that most goods are imported from Indonesia (and China) and as a result, everything costs twice as much. Timor is a very expensive Third World country not just for “malae” and the few tourists that venture here but more importantly for the Timorese. Consider this, most Timorese live on 55c a day and yet a 1.5 litre bottle of purified water costs 50c. A 19-litre bottle of water costs $1 but you have to pay a $6 deposit for the bottle. As you can probably see, most Timorese do not drink purified water and have to drink potentially contaminated water obtained from water pumps dotted around neighbourhoods or rivers and streams; health problems often ensue.

This economic situation makes me understand why the Timorese government are so keen on keeping on good terms with Indonesia. However, it still does not justify their complete and utter lack of interest in pursuing justice for their people.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Argentina and Alberto’s search for privacy

Last night we went out for dinner and upon walking down our dirt and pot holed mud road, I noticed Argentina and Alberto in the entrance to the house two doors down. When they saw us, they ran through the house and hid in the back garden! Mmmm I thought, they’re obviously kanoodling; poor things, it’s so hard to get any privacy in Timor! I wondered where the occupants of this ramshackle house were and if they were aiding and abetting Argentina and Alberto in their quest for a private moment, (I certainly hope so although I also fear that Argentina will end up pregnant. Should I give her some condoms with instructions I wonder? But where will she hide them? She lives in a tiny house with eight other people).

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Home again

The flight back to Timor was uneventful. The plane had many empty seats and we appeared to share them mostly with white Portuguese, Chinese Timorese, a small group of young Timorese men one of whom had a Portuguese passport, a Dutch family, a couple of Americans (maybe Peace Corps) and two white skinned nuns. It was such a different feeling getting on the plane and sharing the journey with this motley crew; it felt so Timorese, definitely not Balinese or Indonesian. Seeing the dark skin of the young Timorese men brought it home for me again how ethnically different the Timorese are from the Indonesians (mostly Melanesian not Asian); and the nuns absolutely reeked of their Catholicism (funny that Daniel says). In a strange way, I felt a part of it and was in a small way looking forward to returning “home”.

Upon arrival at the very unassuming President Nicolau Lobato airport in Dili, we felt the awful heat and humidity and our hearts sank. We put on our backpacks and walked the short journey up to the main road to catch a taxi as the taxi drivers charge a small fortune just to take you to and from the airport which I think is a rip off (and given we live right next door to the airport and can see our house when taking off and landing it’s even more galling). We passed three small boys sitting on the edge of the road under a tree and the middle one thrust his hand out asking for money. Hah, I thought, I’ve got you now! I spoke in Tetum (which I believed shocked them all expecting me to be a newly arrived tourist) and told him off in the kindest way I could muster. He looked suitably embarrassed and I felt pleased with myself.

We had decided to take a taxi in the opposite direction of our home to the supermarket as we knew we had little food in the house. Our taxi driver proceeded to complain about the lack of work and so feeling generous and although the trip was really only worth $3 at the most, I gave him $4 (he had a wife and kids and I just hoped he didn’t spend his money on gambling!). He seemed very happy at this. (I just wish they would reinstall meters in the taxis in Timor because it is very difficult trying to guess how much a trip is worth sometimes.)

I felt good walking through the gates of our property into the garden especially when I spied the “bibi malae” (sheep). I smiled and shouted to Daniel that they hadn’t murdered him for Christmas dinner after all! I also said something similar to the sheep himself. We visited Senyora to tell her we were home and to ask for the key to the house. It turned out that she had only got the message about our delayed return the day before from my colleague who lives in the same neck of the woods. It was difficult trying to email different colleagues to ask them to ask this particular colleague to bring the message to “our family”, due to the fact that the main person we asked was herself on leave until this week. We didn’t want “our family” to worry unnecessarily about us but we did make a number of attempts to let them know. The manner in which we did so also highlights the difficulties of communicating with and within Timor: we had to email a “malae” colleague of Daniel’s and ask her to go to my work to ask my Timorese colleague if she would visit “our family” in person to give them the message.

Yesterday afternoon and again this afternoon we experienced very fierce winds which were lovely as it cooled the house down. This afternoon they were accompanied by heavy rain which combined with the wind brought the water into our house through the top ventilation openings which are covered with mosquito netting but which cannot be closed up. The rain bounced off the roof of the awnings and straight in through the ventilation openings. As a result, I left muddy footprints on the white tiled floor as it is always covered in a fine dust (from the roads in the neighbourhood) and which is near impossible to keep clean.

We both got on the scales yesterday and I discovered that in three weeks, I’d lost another 3kg; not surprising really given that I didn’t eat for nearly a week! So I’ve now lost 8kg but do wonder how I will manage to keep it off, particularly when I return to the overfed countries of the West. I wish I didn’t like food so much but as a sensualist, it is one of the pure joys of life. However, combined with my genetic predisposition to roundness, I’m bound to remain rather cuddly.

What I notice most about being back in Timor is the poverty; it’s so obviously very poor. It’s also very quiet, despite the roosters, dogs, lizards, frogs, pigs, goats, sheep, the taxis with their horns permanently engaged, UN helicopters and the few commercial aeroplanes landing and taking off; and the children playing in the streets. I was very happy to see all the children again although I haven’t had the chance to greet them all. I really do adore them. Here’s a photo of four of the kids in our neighbourhood which I took just before we left for Bali. From left to right: the first two children live across the road (the second is a girl called Jenny), the third child lives next door and the fourth and oldest child at the back is Atoby, the second son of “our family”. They are all related to one another (mostly first and second cousins).

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Back to Ubud

Now on the improve and with time on our hands, we took advantage of the situation and caught a tourist shuttle bus back to Ubud where it was cooler and quieter. We checked back into Sania’s House and Nyoman, a lovely Balinese male cross dresser (“waria” in Bahasa Indonesia) whose family ran the place, had a big grin on his face as he was happy to see us again and inquired after my health. Daniel had spent time trying to get to know him during our first visit while I was holed up in my room and had taken quite a shine to him (Daniel had just the smallest crush on him).

We don’t know much about the tradition of Balinese cross dressers but there is a brief snippet of information in our Lonely Planet guide which wasn’t particularly informative. We weren’t sure if Nyoman was also transgendered or homosexual. He had long hair which he wore tied back often with some hair clip of sorts. He mostly wore a sarong as a skirt (this is very common for Balinese men) and a top. He wore his nails long (again, very common for men) but with nail polish on both his finger and toe nails. There was a women’s gold diamond ring on one of his fingers and he wore a strand of pearls around his neck. He also wore earrings most days. He did all the ironing (including ours) and generally other female-designated tasks. He was just so gorgeous and we wished that we could have asked him more questions about how he lives and how his family and society treat him. We have read that although Balinese culture is quite tolerant of cross dressers and homosexuality, they still expect them to marry and produce children because family is so important.

Therefore, many Balinese men (and women?) leave the island and typically go and live in the big cities of Java where they have more freedom to live their lives without pressure to marry from their families. Ironically, other homosexuals, transgenders and cross dressers from across the Indonesian archipelago come and live in Bali because of its tolerance! (Most of Indonesia is Muslim which does not tolerate any deviation from heterosexuality.)

While in Ubud I read The Go Between by the now deceased English writer L.P. Hartley which was published in 1953 and subsequently made into a film in the 1970s starring Julie Christie and Alan Bates. At first I found it difficult to get into a novel set in 1900 and accompanied by Edwardian English, but in the end I quite enjoyed it although I wouldn’t go so far as to suggest that you seek it out. I would however like to see the film but goodness knows how I might obtain it. I then began and am still reading The Understanding of Jenner Ransfield by Imogen de la Bere an unlikely book that I picked up from the Xanana Reading Room in Dili. Both the title of the book and its cover picture belie the contents of this very engaging and humorous novel set in modern day England. It’s just so funny and I wish someone would turn it into a film (and then send me a copy!).

We managed to read a couple of newspapers while in Ubud including the Jakarta Post. Two stories in one edition of this English language newspaper really disturbed me. One was on the rise in reported child abuse cases in Indonesia and despite most cases being sexual in nature, which are mostly perpetrated by male family members, the heading of the article and the thrust of the article blamed mothers for the increase in cases! It was such appalling reporting and just typical to blame mothers for child abuse (all problems with children are a result of bad mothering never bad fathering). There is no doubt that mother’s commit child abuse but if the majority of cases are sexual abuse, which are overwhelmingly perpetrated by men, how can mothers/women be blamed for the majority of cases? The article failed to mention male child abusers at all. It made me so angry!

The second article concerned the apparent killing of three Timorese Indonesians on the West and East Timor border. The article made it appear that the people killed were Indonesians (legally yes, but they are East Timorese living in Indonesian West Timor). Apparently they were killed by East Timorese border police for doing nothing but fishing on a lake. Unlikely story! Daniel checked his email soon after and discovered an email from his NGO which included an article about the incident which stated that the three men killed were East Timorese militia members hiding out in West Timor for fear of prosecution (since then, it has been confirmed that at least one of them was militia). As to why they were killed by the border police is under investigation. Really, the reporting in this paper was so misleading (to us better informed folk) that it is no wonder that the majority of Indonesians still have no idea as to what went on during their country’s brutal 24-year occupation of East Timor.

We managed to go on short walks around Ubud and enjoyed some memorable meals at Casa Luna, Bali Buddha and Terazo and some not so memorable ones at establishments not worth mentioning. (The food available was so good and cheap compared to Timor that it is worth visiting Bali at least every six months just for some gastronomic respite!) We also did one more long walk to the River Ayung, which is west of town. We tried to follow the directions in the Lonely Planet book but got a little lost.

We then came across the would-be tour guides who typically harass you and won’t let you walk down to the River without their assistance (at a cost). They were so frustrating because they chased you and wouldn’t let you be. Bali has a problem with this sort of enterprise particularly around Gunung Batur where tourists are actually threatened if they try and climb the mountain alone. Then there was the man who kept following us on his motorcycle offering to take us places and simply wouldn’t leave us alone.

Then there was the family who used their youngest female adult and a child to beg for money because they were hungry while they all looked well fed to me (certainly compared to the Timorese children I see). In the tourist spots of Bali there are young mothers and babies standing at traffic lights deliberately targeting foreigners with their hands outstretched saying money, food, hungry while none of them look starved. Our initial driver from the airport to Gaia Oasis told us that most of them are not Balinese and that they come from elsewhere in Indonesia. In Timor it is mostly the kids who beg but usually they’re just regular kids with families who have been taught this appalling habit by UN peacekeepers who gave out small change willy nilly, sweets and gifts at Christmas time which has unfortunately cemented a culture of dependence in their minds. I have now learnt the words in Tetum for “no, you must not ask for money, it is not good!”

We took a break at a restaurant perched on a hill overlooking the banks of the river and while we drank cold drinks had to endure looking at scantily clad Russian women in their two piece bathers, see through sarongs and high heels or barely there shorts and high heel shoes and their overweight bare chested male partners just like the Aussies. (I really had to restrain myself from saying “put some clothes on!”) They had all just taken a white water rafting trip down the river during which I hoped they had managed to remove their high heels! Bali has been inundated with Russians this holiday season as numbers from Australia are down due to the latest bombings in October; the Russians for some reason don’t seem to mind (maybe it has something to do with their history and present state of affairs eg Chechnya). Overall tourist numbers were down one third, which affects the livelihoods of many Balinese.

After talking to a Balinese rafting guide, we finally managed to find the official path down to the river. However, all the way down the steep but paved path we were bombarded by hawkers selling mainly junk tourist stuff like cheap sarongs, carved wooden masks and animals too big to take home and impossible to get through Australian customs due to the nature of the material and if you did manage to get them home, were simply dust magnets in the making. It was so annoying. All I wanted was to walk down to the river and take a pleasant stroll along its banks like I would do in Australia, unencumbered by hawkers and mothers and their babies begging me for money. In the end we couldn’t walk very far along the banks as the path had not been kept in order and was overgrown and dangerous and so had to turn back.

At the top of the path where it joined the road, we were stopped by two children asking for money while their mother and aunt or grandmother looked on (again all looked well fed). I really cannot stand this sort of thing: adults forcing children to beg for them knowing that it will tug at the heart strings of foreigners. Bali is so much wealthier than Timor even if a lot of that money is in the hands of a few. Even in the smaller, less touristy towns, people live much better lives than most Timorese, and I have yet to see mothers and children begging in Timor. So far all I have seen in Timor are mostly children trying it on (although there are some genuine street children and they really harass you so you definitely know the difference) and an old bloke who regularly stands outside “malae” eating places.

Do I sound callous and cruel? Perhaps I do but I guess it’s a combination of anger at the person for begging for I cannot be sure if they are in genuine need, and anger at a society that produces the need to beg and my desire for harassment free living. I also have to confess that when I was 22 and living in London, a young supposedly pregnant (she looked pregnant and told me she was thus but then again, maybe she just had a big tummy) Irish woman approached me outside the tube station near where I worked, and asked me if I would help her out by lending her 150 pounds until the following day when her dole check came through. She said she needed to pay the rent on her accommodation today or else she would be evicted. She promised that she would meet me the following day to repay me. I believed her and duly went to the bank and gave her the money. She never turned up the following day and I never saw her again. When I told my boss about it he just laughed and said, “How could you be so naïve?” And naïve I certainly was. All I wanted to do was help a woman in need and I got severely burned. Ever since I have tried to find other ways to help people without directly giving them money (unless of course it is my fellow Timorese colleagues who must pay me back because we work together), whether that was regularly buying The Big Issue from the man who looked like my father outside the very same tube station where I got burned or to today donating 10% of my salary to various NGOs. But I still feel guilty and angry when beggars ask me for money.

The other thing about Ubud that drove me nuts was the number of times we got asked if we needed transport or a taxi. Many men hang around the streets and proposition foreigners with requests to drive them places. It’s so annoying. You’re constantly saying, no, thank you, and shaking your head. In the end to stop myself from saying, “fuck off”, I would smile and say, “jalan jalan” (going for a walk). They would inevitably laugh for in my mind, I was imagining them thinking, “foreigners are so lazy they couldn’t possibly want to walk anywhere.” Then in the evenings, the touts for Balinese dance performances are on the prowl trying to thrust information brochures into your hands.

I really cannot stand the desperation of local people and the attendant harassment that comes from being a visitor to a Third World country (remember, I have felt under siege for the past six months and just wanted a stress free holiday). I want the world to be fairer and for everyone to have enough and not to suffer and not to make others suffer (as I feel I do when I’m living in or visiting a Third World country). But we don’t live in that kind of world and even though I would love to shut my eyes and make it better for everyone, that simply ain’t gonna happen. The disparities between rich and poor countries are so great and although I think it important to see how the majority of people live, I simply cannot enjoy a holiday in a poor county and would rather stay home. I must sound like a selfish whingeing Westerner but all I want is to live a harassment free life. I certainly want to take my holidays in places where I am free of harassment and that can only be achieved (I believe) in the West. I long to visit a national park again, to camp under the stars, to drive myself into the park and out again, to pay the requisite fee that everyone pays, free of beggars, hawkers and would be tourist guides not to mention bloody roosters (yes, Bali has them too). So, the question is, can I continue to go on living and taking holidays in a Third World country? At the moment I don’t know the answer.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Sam is diagnosed with Dengue Fever

On Tuesday morning we caught a tourist shuttle bus directly to the clinic in Kuta. I was examined by an Indonesian female doctor who diagnosed that I was extremely dehydrated from not eating and not drinking enough and that the rash was probably an allergic reaction caused by the oils and scrubs used during the massage at the resort. She did not think that I had Dengue Fever but she would run a blood test to be sure. In the meantime, she wanted me to spend at least the next three hours attached to an IV in order to rehydrate me at a cost of $30 an hour. Daniel rang our medical insurance people in Sydney to check whether they would pay for it. To my great reluctance, the nurses installed an IV feed into my left hand/wrist at great pain to me. A nurse wheeled me up to the second floor where she installed me in my own private room complete with cable television including the channel ABC Asia Pacific. However, I was mortified to think that (after all my suffering) all I had was a dehydration problem. I began to cry telling Daniel what a fool I was to think I had Dengue Fever and that my health predicament was all my own doing. He comforted me and told me not to be silly as he held cans of “Pocari Sweat” (electrolyte fluids) to my mouth encouraging me to drink.

Within the hour the results of my blood test came back, indeed, I had Dengue Fever and my blood platelet levels had dropped below 100,000 when they should normally be between 150,000 and 450,000. The hospital refused to discharge me and said that I would have to remain in hospital until my platelet levels crept back up to over 100,000. They predicted I would be in hospital at the very minimum for two days and after discharge I would need to remain in Bali for at least a day or two so that I could return for more blood tests. Therefore we would need to delay our return to Timor. They also said that if my platelets dropped to 50,000 or below, the hospital would evacuate me to Singapore for a blood transfusion! All of a sudden, things became very serious indeed.

Daniel got back on the phone to our medical insurers to see whether they would cover the cost at $30 an hour x 24 hours x 2 days minimum and they agreed upon being faxed a medical report from the clinic. He also called Merpati airlines to change our return flight and discovered that all seats were booked until the 13 January; ten days after we were due to return. We accepted what was on offer.

In the middle of the afternoon, I had to endure another blood test and they had to find another of my difficult to find veins. The results came back that not only had my platelets dropped again but also my haemoglobin levels. The doctors were growing concerned and again threatened me with evacuation to Singapore. I started to panic and believed for a few brief minutes that I was going to die and started to cry. I looked at Daniel and thought: I love him too much to leave him and our future life together now, deciding I didn’t want to go just yet; but I knew that Dengue was serious and can be fatal.

There is no prevention (other than not being bitten by the mosquito carrying the virus which is near on impossible) and no cure. Every year throughout the tropics many people die from Dengue due to the complications associated with haemorrhagic fever. Mostly these are children and older people and they die because they take too long to (or cannot) seek medical help usually in the form of a blood transfusion. The under fives are the most in danger. The clinic staff told me they had had a number of Dengue patients with haemorrhagic fever and this coupled with my decreasing platelet levels was why they were concerned (more than 1,000 people in Indonesia died of Dengue Fever in 2005). Again, Daniel comforted me and told me that I would be all right because I was in a Western medical facility (another example of when Western medicine is beneficial).

After I had calmed down a bit, Daniel went off to find an Internet café to email our family back home, our NGOs in Timor and AVI to tell them what was going on. He also needed to find something to eat. He returned early in the evening to find me watching either Star World (mostly American sitcoms) or ABC Asia Pacific (Australian and British shows) and about to eat an Indonesian version of minestrone soup. At the time of putting in the IV, they had injected me with an anti-nausea drug to make me eat again, so my appetite was returning slowly.

Daniel was allowed to spend the night in my room in a fold up bed. He helped me as much as he could (when he wasn’t asleep) to get in and out of bed and to go to the toilet. As I had an IV in me and was instructed to drink lots of “Pocari Sweat” and guava juice (supposedly, it helps increase platelet levels: traditional beliefs combined with Western medical facilities how apt) I was constantly needing to pee. However, I had to pee into a measuring jug so that the nurses could record how much output I was making. I also had to try and poo into a very small specimen cup but as I hadn’t eaten for nearly a week, that was much more difficult. I had to wait until I had a very small amount of diarrhoea before I could give them what they wanted but then they also instructed me not to mix it with my menstrual blood! Ugghh, it was all so bloody difficult. And often when I went to the toilet because my arm with the IV was down not up, blood from my body would start rushing up into the IV lead and I’d have to rush back to bed and call the nurse to come and fix the problem.



Because my first blood test was done at 11am, I had to have them every 12 hours so that meant an 11pm taking of my blood. These I came to dread as they struggled to find a vein and were now taking upwards of one hour to get the blood! At one point, they obtained it from my foot and that hurt like hell. (As I write this, despite it being a week since I was discharged, I am still bruised in four different places from where they took blood). The nurses had to take my vital signs every three or four hours so this made it near on impossible for me to sleep. I was absolutely buggered beyond belief.

My platelet levels dropped further but then started to creep back up again. My temperature was starting to return to normal. I broke out in a rash (the correct Dengue induced one, not the one caused by the massage) which meant that the fever was breaking. However, as my platelets had still not reached the elusive 100,000 mark, I was told I would have to stay in the hospital for at least three days. So I willed my platelets to rise as I simply couldn’t bear the blood taking anymore and the hospital food was dreadful. I also just wanted to sleep. I couldn’t read a book because I couldn’t use my left hand and despite my love of television what was on offer was boring me silly (I watched the 100 Hollywood break ups of all time, the 50 best bodies in the world, Oprah Winfrey, The Bold and the Beautiful, Becker (which was really funny and it was such a relief to laugh), the ABC news from Australia (so good to see), a repeat of one of my favourite British detective dramas Dalziel and Pascoe which I’d already seen and Daniel was too tired himself to watch and fell asleep, and the Australian detective drama Stingers).

While in hospital Daniel’s mum and my Aunt both called to see how I was doing. It was so nice to hear their voices and to be able to tell them all my woes. I really appreciated their calls. I also experienced a visit from three AVIers working in Bali whom I had never met before. Our AVI manager had contacted them and asked if they would pay a fellow AVIer from Timor a visit in hospital. It felt a bit strange at first to be sitting in bed opposite three people I’d never met before chatting about our respective experiences as AVIers and I for some reason was incredibly chatty and couldn’t stop talking. (Daniel had fled the hospital for some respite in the outside world and perhaps I was a bit delirious from lack of sleep.) Anyway, I also really appreciated their visit. All three were working on environmental projects in Bali, which is of huge concern given the number of tourists the small island receives, and the impact that has on the natural world.

Finally by Friday morning my platelets had just surpassed the 100,000 mark and I was free to go. Thank goddess! But I was instructed to return the following morning for another blood test so Daniel booked us into a hotel in Seminyak. Before going to our hotel, we spent a few hours at the shopping mall and duty free store across the road from the clinic and bought a small electronic dictionary, which translates Bahasa Indonesia into English and vice versa for my Timorese friend who is studying English at the National University of Timor-Leste. We went to the English store Marks and Spencer (which I adore and is one of the things I miss about living in London) and Daniel purchased two shirts, boxer shorts, and I bought a shirt. In the tourist gifts section of the duty free store I purchased two hand-painted t-shirts by Balinese artists. (Some of the clothes we brought with us to Timor now have holes in them due to wear and tear over the years and no doubt, the hard water, and harsh sun.)

During my stay at the hospital the Balinese nurses (as many males as females; in Timor more men than women are nurses and the same goes for teachers) were just fantastic. One nurse, upon telling her what sort of NGO I worked for in Timor, couldn’t hold herself back from telling me what a patriarchal culture Bali is and how the men just expect the women to wait on them hand and foot. She was so animated, it was lovely to watch her talk (she also moved like a classical ballet dancer and had the most beautiful big brown eyes and long straight black hair – just gorgeous). I said that all countries are patriarchal; it’s just that some are more so than others and it’s the lot of women to live in them but to also challenge the prevailing culture and demand greater equality (and therefore less patriarchy).

We duly returned to the clinic on Saturday and my platelets had continued their ascent so I was told to rest, keep drinking and eating and report any further symptoms to them. While we were waiting for my appointment we saw a number of other Westerners also waiting in various states of undress. One young girl and her mother were wearing bathers, very short shorts and high platform shoes. One Aussie bloke was wearing board shorts and thongs and the patch on his chin told me he had had a surfing accident. But the problem was that he was wearing no shirt; he was naked from his navel up (the following morning en route to Ubud I saw him again on the streets of Kuta with two of his mates, all of whom were shirtless)! The Balinese absolutely detest this utter disrespect for their culture (they’re modest in their dress). Westerners walk around Bali as if every little piece of it is their private beach or garden. And who in their right mind turns up to a doctor’s clinic in their home country shirtless or attired in little more than a bathing costume? So why do it in Bali? Normally one dresses up not down to visit their GP.

We spent the remainder of the day at the same shopping mall and duty free store across the road from the clinic and bought a few more things like books in English (very limited selection available but better than what can be obtained in Timor), along with Harry Potter number five in Bahasa Indonesia for one of Daniel’s Timorese colleagues who is rather a fan but the books aren’t available in Timor. Daniel purchased for himself a cheaper version of the electronic dictionary I purchased for my Timorese friend as he had really got into learning yet another language and had had access to such a device while living in China which he found invaluable. I also purchased two beautiful hand made batik sarongs from the tourist gift section of the duty free store (at home in Dili, I live in sarongs and the beautiful Indian cotton one I bought with me from Australia (and purchased from Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Sam takes to bed in Ubud

Our next stop was to spend the remaining five days in Ubud, the artistic and cultural centre of Bali. However, just before we left, upon exiting my morning shower, all of a sudden I felt very weak, tired and as if someone had belted every muscle in my body with a baseball bat. As I had had a very painful full body massage the day before, I just assumed it was the after effects of the masseur’s very hard pummelling of my sensitive flesh. As I sat in the car on the journey down to Ubud, I grew more and more weary and just wanted to lie down. Upon arriving at our accommodation, I immediately lay down and basically didn’t move other than to go to the toilet for the next three days. During this time I also developed an incredible itch as a result of a rash all over my back which I assumed might have been caused by the falling sawdust from the ceiling due to the termite problem the room had. Every time I brushed off the sawdust from the bed, it would slowly start to come back again. The itching drove me absolutely nuts and some brief respite came in the form of the Tea Tree Oil and Aloe Vera creams we had brought with us from Australia. Daniel massaged them into my back and lying under the fan with them on my skin was wonderfully cooling.

My body really ached for two solid days and at the same time, I completely lost my appetite and couldn’t eat a thing as the thought of doing so made me feel sick. Two days later, I got my period, which was way too early as it came on day 25 when normally it comes between day 28 and 30. This rarely happens to me as my cycle is like clockwork unless I’m particularly stressed or out of sorts. I couldn’t quite see what had brought it on so soon but had to remain in bed for at least the next two days as I normally do on a monthly basis. By the fourth day I was going out of my mind and was suffering from cabin fever. I wanted to go for a walk so we went in search of a restaurant that according to our out of date Lonely Planet guide to Bali served amazing colourful salads which I thought I might just be able to eat. We walked and walked and walked and ended up on the outskirts of Ubud but no restaurant was to be found as it appeared it had closed down. I was absolutely buggered as we had walked for nearly two hours and I couldn’t go another step. We caught a taxi back to town and ate at the famous Bali Buddha vegetarian restaurant. However, I simply couldn’t eat a thing as the thought made me sick so I just drank some juices and had one or two bites of a very small ginger biscuit which I couldn’t finish. I just wanted to go and lie down again.

The following day was Monday and we were due to leave Bali on Wednesday morning. I asked Daniel to look up a medical clinic in Bali and make an appointment for me the following day. This he duly did. We both also got on the Internet and looked up the symptoms for Dengue Fever which was what I believed I had. I had many of the symptoms: muscle ache, fever, loss of appetite, lethargy, and skin rash.

While suffering in bed I read the British spy novelist John Le Carré’s The Constant Gardner, an absolutely riveting and very disturbing novel about the extent to which some pharmaceutical companies will go to in the pursuit of profit. At 560 pages it kept me busy and helped to keep my mind off my predicament. It was also quite apt that I was reading about Third World illnesses and drugs given I thought I had Dengue Fever and that there is no cure for it (simply not enough money to be made in finding a cure for a Third World illness). I highly commend this book to you and perhaps the film which has recently been released in the West although I have yet to see it (the local DVD store has a version but upon testing it in the store, discovered that it was filmed from the back of the cinema and therefore the quality was crap and I chose not to buy it).

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

Conversations with an Austrian

We did manage to befriend an interesting couple from Austria who made it very clear that they were not German (and seemingly had little time for them full stop). I said to them that I detected a degree of animosity towards the Germans which was similar to the Australia/New Zealand (or the Canada/USA) relationship. True to form however, he did all the talking and she barely said a word although she claimed this was due to her poor English. He was a Leo in his early 40s, a university educated engineer and “entrepreneur” who had recently sold his heating/cooling business at great profit and was looking around for another venture (in addition to meaning), but this time, one with more of a New Age focus. She was a 34 year old Sagittarian marketing manager for a hospital and was expecting their first child in late June; however she was also a gifted artist (although we have yet to see her work) and specialised in oil based painting (she had originally attended Fine Arts school). They had met over the Internet about a year and a half beforehand (in private I commented to Daniel that perhaps she was at the baby hunger stage). We spent most meals with them (although not lunch as they only ate two meals a day in order to control their weight: he was very thin and she was just right. When I said that I liked food too much to do that, he said “yes, I can tell!” I was slightly offended but was relieved that I was 35 and not 25 because I have become less touchy about my weight as I age).

They (really he) had decided to open a healing centre in Austria which particularly focused on alternative forms of health as they were both very disparaging about modern Western medicine. To a point we agreed with them (it is allopathic and crisis based) but having lived in Timor, we can see an urgent need for good evidenced based modern Western medical treatment and more importantly, preventative health care education. There is no doubt that the Timorese have a variety of traditional medicines at their disposal, but this clearly does not work for all medical problems and all people all the time; it certainly does not enable women to control their fertility!

Most of Timor’s health problems stem from poverty and dangerous traditional cultural beliefs and practices (eg wrapping of babies and mothers). We challenged him on his total disregard for Western medicine and the fact that the Third World does not have the luxury to dismiss it let alone can they afford its services when they need it (if in fact it is even available which usually it is not). He took our challenges well and seemed to consider what we said, as we did to his views. Another ‘clash’ came about after he said that people deserve the governments they get and therefore by extension, if that government is corrupt or evil, the people are also (he was using the example of China here as he was rather a Tibet and Dalai Lama worshipper and couldn’t understand our interest/empathy in China and for the Chinese).

Our friend appeared to have not analysed history particularly deeply and lacked an appreciation of the effects of colonialism and accidents of fortune (that some countries have been blessed with crops, animals, climates and natural resources that have allowed them easier human development, a lá Jarred Diamond’s arguments) that have often influenced it. Also, how can you blame a whole society such as China or Cuba for the totalitarian dictatorships they must endure? Not everyone wanted a communist dictatorship and even if they did at the time, they may, due to the brutality of the regime, have subsequently changed their minds and now wish they could vote them out and replace them with someone else. Unfortunately, in both countries that is simply not possible and anyone working for democracy is routinely harassed, imprisoned and even tortured and/or murdered.

The most memorable comment however was that individuals must take responsibility for their lives and their health and not expect others to do it for them; otherwise they only have themselves to blame for their predicament. This was such an individualistic Western thing to say that failed to acknowledge that he was lucky to be born into a good family in an affluent society, which afforded him with many opportunities in life including a good education and Western health care system. The same cannot be said for the average Timorese; they are not to be blamed for the misery in which they live!

His thoughts were clearly framed within classic meritocratic ideas that have so firmly gripped the Western conscience; that you make your life, in effect you are “self made” without any leg ups from the country and family you are born into, the quality of education and health you receive, or the people you meet along life’s journey who assist you including those with whom you have intimate relationships. Individuals do not exist in a vacuum; they are born of other individuals, families and societies who can make or break them. Our friend seemed not to acknowledge the assistance he had received throughout his life from his family, his society and his government. Maybe this was predictable and part of the entrepreneurial worldview.

We had many long and interesting conversations with our Austrian friends until on the third night, he was struck down with a severe stomach complaint and had to be rushed to the hospital in Singaraja (he has a “weak” stomach normally and something he ate had set it off). Unfortunately we were not able to say farewell as we left the resort on the morning of the sixth day and he was due to return from hospital in the afternoon. They had booked their entire three week holiday at the resort while we had planned to only spend half of our ten day holiday there, and despite our fondness for them, they weren’t enough (alone) to keep us at the resort any longer. As good fortune would have it, he had given us his business card before he fell ill, so we will be able to stay in touch. He was very insistent that we come and visit them in Austria and was hoping that we would do so within the next six months! We tried to explain that this was just impossible given our volunteer status for the next 18 months and that if we visited, it would be in the future. He told us that we were the only authentic people at the resort (it wasn’t hard given who he was comparing us with!) It was funny really, because he did appear to be quite besotted with us!

Daniel spent considerable time getting to know the staff at the resort, and upon leaving they seemed genuinely upset. They said that we (really Daniel) were among the few guests that took the time to get to know them as people which they really appreciated (not surprising really given the degree of navel gazing that went on amongst the guests; I’m surprised they even noticed that it was Balinese who waited on them hand and foot). One young man in particular was hoping that we would stay until he had a day off so that he could spend his one day a week off taking us around to the “real” Tejakula! Daniel, being the natural linguist that he is, started speaking Bahasa Indonesia with the Balinese which of course, impressed them greatly and they proceeded to talk to him as if he were fluent! However, I found them all very sweet if at times a little too attentive for my liking.

The food at the resort was easily the highlight of our stay. They served sumptuous wholefoods (white rice excepted) including black German bread made from specially imported grain and bread making machines from Germany! (I do love German bread, it’s just so hearty.) The food was mostly vegan (albeit with the inclusion of fish which Daniel felt revealed health as the main motive behind their not eating meat rather than any thought for the animals involved) with lots of yummy salads. I felt like I had just about died and gone to heaven after six months of repetitive boring subsistence Timorese food and canned imports from Australia and Singapore. My bowel movements even returned to normal, which made me happy (this indicates how serious a problem my health has been since arriving in Timor).

While at the resort I read Mumbo Jumbo by Ismael Reed, a writer and professor at my former alma mater, Berkeley. It is supposedly one of the greatest books of all time but I have to confess that I found it very difficult to get into, understand or enjoy. And this book is not to be confused with How Mumbo Jumbo Conquered the World by Francis Wheen which I read a year or so ago. This book is a scathing critique of all things post modern, New Age and irrational; parts of which I wholeheartedly agreed with and then others I just thought, nup, this guy is too rational for my liking (he criticised astrology and homeopathy both of which I support). Funnily enough, Wheen was interviewed on the ABC’s Radio National’s Late Night Live program with Philip Adams and which I listened to on Radio Australia in Timor. I thoroughly enjoyed the interview, more so than I probably would have done from Australia simply because I was absolutely sick to death of reading and hearing about Timorese traditional cultural beliefs and practices which to my mind are mostly irrational and often life threatening!

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)

New Age Germans

In my desperation to find an isolated resort with fine food and views, I stumbled upon the website of a resort called Gaia Oasis. Upon emailing a handful of different medium priced resorts in Bali, Gaia was the only one to have accommodation available for the period of time I specified so I took it. They have two locations, one down on the beach of Tejakula and one up in the mountains behind the town which is where we stayed. However, guests are given free access to both locations and can choose to eat their meals at either despite the food being the same.

We settled into our little cottage with its partial outdoor bathroom (very Balinese and very pleasant) and soon discovered that nearly all the guests were German! And New Age Germans at that! Having visited Germany in 1993/4 and having had at least four German friends in the past (one German Australian friend from my school days and from my adult years: one German temporarily living in Australia and two German friends in Germany), one current German Australian friend (her parents are German émigrés), and the only other “malae” I work with is German, I know a little about the culture from these friendships as well as seeing German films subtitled in English, reading German books translated into English, and having studied German history and politics at university. But nothing prepared me for this particular group of New Age Germans! It was like an exclusive club which made me feel very much an outsider. Most of the guests were in their 30s, 40s and 50s and all appeared to be suffering from a crisis of meaning in their lives which they sought refuge from in New Age beliefs.

Now I must from the outset confess an interest in some New Age beliefs which were introduced to me by the mother of the man I had my first serious relationship with when I was a mere 18 years of age. She introduced me to the likes of Louise Hay (You can heal your life) M. Scott Peck (The road less travelled) and Dr Wayne Dyer et al. I had also begun a life long interest in astrology when I was a teenager which over the years has deepened as I have studied and read more. In fact my interest in astrology even led me to further study at the School for Psychological Astrology in London as I contemplated becoming a full time psychological astrology therapist (I gave up on the idea as I didn’t want to be burdened with other people’s woes; I had too many of my own to deal with). To this day, I utilise astrology as a tool for personal understanding and insight into other’s behaviours and motives. It has helped me immeasurably in understanding myself, my family and close personal relationships.

I also believe in the healing and restorative aspects of spending time in and with nature; whether in beautiful landscapes or with animals. Communing with nature is for me a deeply spiritual experience, and when I am not able to do so, I am left feeling very dispirited and ill at ease. Furthermore, in Australia I consult a naturopath/homeopath/traditional healer/psychic who I absolutely adore and whilst in Timor, miss her ministrations greatly. I also eat a wholefoods vegetarian diet (although in Timor it’s hard to avoid all that white rice) and believe in the healing power of good food.

But here’s the rub, I am not a perpetual navel gazer who never looks up into the wider world to see what is going on. On the contrary, compared to most people I know, I look more intensely and more widely at what is going on in the world, more than is probably good for my mental health. Although at different times of my life I have retreated into a form of navel gazing, I do not believe that ultimately this serves ourselves or the people and animals we share the planet with any good. People must educate and inform themselves of what is going on in their own and other’s backyards; it is the only way that democracy, justice, peace, human development, a respect for human, animal rights and the natural world can be fought for and maintained. People must never become so complacent as to believe that hard won gains in the West will always prevail, or that there are no more battles to be won (there are plenty more); let alone the fact that most of the world is yet to share in even the basic of these ideals. But I also acknowledge that people must be self-aware and have very good insight into their own personality, motivations and behaviour as well as that of others. I have seen the downside of people not being self aware (particularly among those involved in politics) and it is deeply troubling. For me it’s all about a balance between self awareness/spending time getting to know yourself and others and focusing on bigger issues that usually revolve around current affairs and politics. I therefore support some New Age beliefs, but as part of a balance that I believe most of my fellow guests had lost - to the detriment of their connection with earthly concerns.

Not one of the German people we spoke to knew where East Timor was or what had gone on there in the preceding years. One woman whom we particularly took a dislike too (although she was Austrian) professed not to watch much television (she hid it in the cupboard and only got it out to watch specific programs) as the images were just “too disturbing”. When we booked to go on a dolphin watching expedition, this same woman the night before asked us, “what does your intuition tell you about coming on the trip with the group or on your own?” I didn’t know that there was such a choice to be made and assumed that at the time of booking, we would go as a group. I also didn’t realise that she had become the leader of the group (she was a guest worker at the resort). I was so shocked by the manner in which she asked the question, I told her I didn’t know and said the group would be fine. I was so furious that in private I said to Daniel, “my intuition is telling me that you’re a New Age twat and I don’t like you (the Austrian woman, not Daniel).”

The New Age Germans kept to themselves and rarely did one of them make an effort to talk outside their little cliques. When they did, mostly they wanted to talk about New Age beliefs which we found tiring. Daniel did manage to get them talking about the reunification of East with West Germany and that spiked their interest, albeit temporarily. One memorable conversation was with a German man in his 40s who lived in Switzerland and who had come into an inheritance which allowed him to leave his job as a computer software programmer and spend the inheritance on New Age courses (those gurus must be grinning from ear to ear). He was so self absorbed that he didn’t ask us one question but happily answered all our (mostly my) questions. I also acknowledge that his gender had a part to play in this because in general, men are very good at talking but not very good at asking questions or listening. In private I said to Daniel that part of his inheritance could be put to good use with funding an NGO or charity and he’d still have money left over for his navel gazing pursuits too boot. But I had a sneaking suspicion that he was doing no such thing.

I found coming from incredibly poor Timor where I work for a women’s human rights NGO, to be confronted with New Age Germans who quite frankly, had more money than sense (sixth senses aside), just too much. I had spent the preceding six months reading about the most horrendous human rights abuses, trying to grapple with a new language and completely alien culture and in the process had a mental breakdown and was advised by a psychologist to return home. Now here I was, in the lap of luxury by any standards, surrounded by clueless white Westerners in search of meaning, and willing to spend any amount of money to find it. “Come to Timor” I felt like saying, “I’ll show you meaning!”.

The resort was started by a group of New Age Germans and Australians about eight years ago. It continues to be run by members who buy into the resort by building a cottage either down at the water or up in the mountains. When they’re not using their cottage, it is hired out to tourists. Members come and go and there are very few original members left. Two of the original German members were there at the same time as us. One of them, a man in his 50s had married one of his former Balinese housemaids who was easily half his age. But interestingly, most mixed marriages in Bali are between white Western women and Balinese men, and there are a lot of them! It is one of the most perplexing things about Bali and one I would like to read more about. The Balinese are in general incredibly friendly, helpful and gentle people, but it is still a patriarchal society where women do most of the work. Their Hindu religion even forbids menstruating women from entering temples.

I wonder if Western women see the surface of Balinese culture and believe the men are more liberated than men of their own culture and thus fall in love with their apparent gentleness. Or is it perhaps a matter of being in a more powerful position as a Westerner? I’d love to know the divorce statistics for such marriages. The German woman who managed the resort was married to a Balinese and they had two children together. Young Balinese men and men from other parts of Indonesia “prostitute/escort” themselves to older white Western women, particularly at the popular resort of Kuta (their nickname is Kuta Cowboys), who may or may not engage in sexual relations but certainly pay for their escort services. These men deliberately target older (not younger) Western women. (Female prostitutes also exist but the male prostitute phenomenon is just so unusual. I do not know of any other country where this is so.) However, there do also seem to be more female Westerner-male Timorese relationships here than the other way around, so perhaps it is a wider Asian phenomenon.

Category: Timor-Leste (East Timor)