Wednesday 18 April 2007, Dili East Timor

Finding my feet and my way round.

My driver John (Joao) finally plucked up the courage to admit that I was a bit of an oddity for a number of people. I looked slightly Timorese (to the extent that some people start talking to me in Tetum) but I don't act Timorese! He said that I looked and moved aggressively! That is the first time someone has said that about me! I'm going to take that to mean though that I come across as self-confident and self-assured, not rude and overbearing :-)

He also said that he expected me to be white since I came from Africa! Talk about perceptions. The head of the project, Dr Weyl although German is actually resident in Zimbabwe, hence the connection I guess. The third expectation that I managed to burst for John was that he was expecting an old person, so he was rather surprised to be confronted by this rather young face at the airport.

So I will have to make the most of this unsettling ability I have on people. So far I've been quite warmly received by everyone.

The poverty is endemic here. Everywhere there is the evidence of violent scars. Burnt out buildings that once were houses, bullet-ridden cars and piles of rubble that's the only memorial of a once-thriving store. Animals roam free but uncared for. Kids out on the street in the middle of the day can only spell a crisis for the long-term development of Timor-Leste. We've been reaping the 'benefits' of a "No education before Liberation" policy in the Eighties...The development needs are clearly dire. What I would question though is the presence of so many different agencies for a population of just over 1million people spread over an island that is arguably as large as KwaZulu Natal. That's the population of Khayelitsha in Cape Town. And yet we have several UN agencies, the Portuguese Riot Police, the Australian army and a coterie of INGOs and NGOs. All clogging up the potholed roads with their huge SUVs...

All wanting to help....

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Friday, 20 April 20007 Dili, East Timor

It's about 19h00, night has fallen  and the clouds that gathered during the late afternoon after a super hot, bright sunshiny day, are letting their precious cargo of water fall on the roof of my container in large plops. It's still incredibly humid, so for one accustomed to rain and cold, this takes some adjustment. Some of the storm is even trying to seep into my living quarters!

Given the metal nature of this container in which I live, the feeling I currently have is of being inside a washing machine with the water streaming down the window and the sounds of the torrential rain outside. I may delay the 100m dash to the restaurant situated inside this compound (thankfully, given the curfew that settles over Dili as the sun sets). Especially now that the thunder seems directly overhead. The solitude of the storm is very different to my 'normal' Friday night habit of curling up on the couch with the latest rerun of Friends or whatever is on TV. There isn't much by way of TV here. We do get the Australian equivalent of Fox News which seems obsessed with Al-Quaeda and game-shows.

Just before the sunset, I went for a walk along what serves as the main road that runs past teh hotel's compound. Earlier I had noticed the streets lined with flowers stuck atop bamboo poles every few metres. Also the city was a hive of activity today with literally bus- and truckloads of people (especially schoolchildren) descending on Dili from the various bairos or townships/informal settlements. Dressed in their best, the schoolchildren in neatly pressed uniforms and herded together by their teachers, my interpreter Reis explained that they were all waiting for the Cross. In this very Catholic country, the annual visitation by Mother Mary literally brings the traffic to a standstill. For kilometers people lined the street and when eventually the large wooden cross made its way down the street, people vied with each other to help carry it on its way for a short while.

A huge procession, slowly wending its way down the street. On the sidewalks the Australian army in fatigues watch on warily. On the island in the centre of the street, UN police clad in navy blue take pictures of the crowd with digital cameras smiling as they pass by. For all the strong presence of  various police agencies, the crowd is peaceful (or maybe because of the police presence?)

At least this Friday Mother Mary seems to have stretched her hand over the citizens of Dili..On my way back, after the procession had passed, I saw little boys taking the bamboo poles, dropping the flowers on the ground and start chasing each other. Boys will be boys?

Speaking of which:

I got punched in the stomach today!

I was given the opportunity to lead the morning warm-up in the conflict resolution workshop I've been attending with these Martial Arts Groups. So we did some of my aikido warm-up exercises and the yoga sun salutations (which the Nepalese facilitators enjoyed). I tell you, in a humid climate like this, those sun salutations heat one up very quickly!!!!

Then I thought I would do some ki exercises to illustrate how to become aware of one's centre and to take back one's power - even in the face of an attack. The reaction was amazing. I think these martial artists were really stunned and intrigued by how such a little movement or action, a non-violent one at that could completely neutralise someone else's power.

Then I asked a karateka to punch me in the stomach. And he obliged. I can see why he won competitions.

I then asked him to punch again, harder this time... But moved out of the way, just in time, with my index finger ending up in the soft area just below his neck - to illustrate that I could choose to harm him...Or do ikkyo just to control him. He let out a yelp as I applied ikkyo which added to the dramatic effect.

I think now everyone wants to learn Aikido. I think the exercises fitted into the general flow of the workshop - where they had been talking about defining conflict, analysing it and responding to it. I think the physical metaphor of the martial arts with which they are very familiar brought an added dimension to the session. And I had fun. I think they did too. It's not everyday you get to punch a facilitator in the stomach.

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Friday, 20 April 20007 Dili, East Timor

It's about 19h00, night has fallen  and the clouds that gathered during the late afternoon after a super hot, bright sunshiny day, are letting their precious cargo of water fall on the roof of my container in large plops. It's still incredibly humid, so for one accustomed to rain and cold, this takes some adjustment. Some of the storm is even trying to seep into my living quarters!

Given the metal nature of this container in which I live, the feeling I currently have is of being inside a washing machine with the water streaming down the window and the sounds of the torrential rain outside. I may delay the 100m dash to the restaurant situated inside this compound (thankfully, given the curfew that settles over Dili as the sun sets). Especially now that the thunder seems directly overhead. The solitude of the storm is very different to my 'normal' Friday night habit of curling up on the couch with the latest rerun of Friends or whatever is on TV. There isn't much by way of TV here. We do get the Australian equivalent of Fox News which seems obsessed with Al-Quaeda and game-shows.

Just before the sunset, I went for a walk along what serves as the main road that runs past teh hotel's compound. Earlier I had noticed the streets lined with flowers stuck atop bamboo poles every few metres. Also the city was a hive of activity today with literally bus- and truckloads of people (especially schoolchildren) descending on Dili from the various bairos or townships/informal settlements. Dressed in their best, the schoolchildren in neatly pressed uniforms and herded together by their teachers, my interpreter Reis explained that they were all waiting for the Cross. In this very Catholic country, the annual visitation by Mother Mary literally brings the traffic to a standstill. For kilometers people lined the street and when eventually the large wooden cross made its way down the street, people vied with each other to help carry it on its way for a short while.

A huge procession, slowly wending its way down the street. On the sidewalks the Australian army in fatigues watch on warily. On the island in the centre of the street, UN police clad in navy blue take pictures of the crowd with digital cameras smiling as they pass by. For all the strong presence of  various police agencies, the crowd is peaceful (or maybe because of the police presence?)

At least this Friday Mother Mary seems to have stretched her hand over the citizens of Dili..On my way back, after the procession had passed, I saw little boys taking the bamboo poles, dropping the flowers on the ground and start chasing each other. Boys will be boys?

Speaking of which:

I got punched in the stomach today!

I was given the opportunity to lead the morning warm-up in the conflict resolution workshop I've been attending with these Martial Arts Groups. So we did some of my aikido warm-up exercises and the yoga sun salutations (which the Nepalese facilitators enjoyed). I tell you, in a humid climate like this, those sun salutations heat one up very quickly!!!!

Then I thought I would do some ki exercises to illustrate how to become aware of one's centre and to take back one's power - even in the face of an attack. The reaction was amazing. I think these martial artists were really stunned and intrigued by how such a little movement or action, a non-violent one at that could completely neutralise someone else's power.

Then I asked a karateka to punch me in the stomach. And he obliged. I can see why he won competitions.

I then asked him to punch again, harder this time... But moved out of the way, just in time, with my index finger ending up in the soft area just below his neck - to illustrate that I could choose to harm him...Or do ikkyo just to control him. He let out a yelp as I applied ikkyo which added to the dramatic effect.

I think now everyone wants to learn Aikido. I think the exercises fitted into the general flow of the workshop - where they had been talking about defining conflict, analysing it and responding to it. I think the physical metaphor of the martial arts with which they are very familiar brought an added dimension to the session. And I had fun. I think they did too. It's not everyday you get to punch a facilitator in the stomach.

Blogged with Flock

Denpasar - Dili, Monday 16 April 2007

Leaving Bali for East Timor today.

Breakfast in Bali was great! A tropical delight of incredibly fresh fruit whose tastes just explode on your tongue. Juicy melon, sweet pineapple and an extremely tart lime to clear my palate. Followed by a 'traditional' Indonesian breakfast of fried rice, eggs and a wafer. Yummy. The solitude of the breakfast environs is brightened a little by the cute Australian Sheila sipping her bottled water several tables away from me as she plans her day of touristy activities.

Sanur, where the Hotel Puri Kelapa is located, is about 30 minutes from the airport and quieter than the more touristy districts closer to the airport. Rs85,000 for the taxi should get you here (that's the official rate) although beware of the other taxi touts wanting to charge up to Rs100,000 just because you look a little lost and like a tourist. Just like in Joburg! Everywhere there are hundreds of sccoters around. It's the most popular form of transport around. I've even seen some women riding side-saddle! The taxi driver yesterday was saying that that was the more modest way for a woman to sit on the pillon - not this modern way with legs akimbo. Anyway, that's something for me to try when I'm back home.

Unlike most of Indonesia, Bali is 90% Hindu. One of the most heartwarming sights on my way from the airport yesterday through downtown Denpasar was a mosque, a church and a temple with a huge statue straight out of the Ramayana co-existing side by side in one precinct on a city block. A sort of miniature South East Asian Jerusalem but without the religious contestation.

Checking in, all metal objects must be removed from one's person - including in my case my belt because the big buckle was setting off the detector. I wonder if passengers have wardrobe malfunctions here? Some of the locals had to remove even their shoes; I was spared that.  Now a 1hr45min trip to Dili.....

My flight to Dili was delayed by more than an hour due to rotational reasons, so we're only flying out at 11h30 rather than 10h05. Again the whole complexion of the flight has changed. I guess few people go to Dili on holiday. Yesterday the taxi driver assumed I was a military type when I said I was going to Dili for 2 weeks. Or from the UN. So today I'm dressed like a tourist in 3/4 pants and sporting a shirt from Zanzibar that'll help me cope with the heat a little better. Most of the foreigners now occupying the departure hall are on their way to Jakarta. One Australian-sounding chap had evacuated several weeks back, ensuring that some local Timorese too were evacuated and had not been let back to run his business it sounds like. He was heading back now on a tourist's visa. Looks like Dili will be an interesting place.

Another assumption is that I'm local. The Malay/Javanese/Indonesian part of my heritage must be coming through quite strongly in my features. Like on my last visit to Thailand, it's interesting to see the virtual doubles of people I recognise as Capetonians on the these streets.

I nearly caused an international incident at Dili airport because I had insufficient dollars for the 30USD visa charge. Sweating in line I was sent from one immigration official to another, finally interrogated about the purpose of my visit and how come I had no money on me, how much was loaded on my credit card, just who were you visiting etc... Finally I got a break when the driver who had come to pick me up (John) was allowed to come and explain the situation and the reason for my visit. And it turned out that he knew the chief immigration interrogator - so it all turned out OK.

Leaving the airport, my first impressions was of a society under seige - but not from guerillas or armed militia - rather from the pervasive presence of police - official East Timorese, the UN police force drawn from countries from around the world, the special Portuguese police force and the Australian army in full military fatigues. All offering protection and security. While we have to drive along potholed streets and burned out relics of buildings - memoirs of the Indonesian army's withdrawal and their scorched earth policy with their retreat in 1999. The country it seems has yet to recover.

Unemployment is rife - upwards of 50% depending on where in the country you are. Marginalised youth are visible on the streets everywhere (this is my target audience) when they should be in school in the middle of the day. Dogs, goats and pigs roam the streets. Traffic rules mean very little; overtaking on a barrier line in the face of oncoming traffic has been perfected by most drivers. I have yet to see a car accident though. Although I guess one cannot travel too quickly given the state of many of the roads.

My accommodation in Dili is very, very different to that in Bali! My home away from home for the next 2 weeks will be a converted container that houses 4 little cubicles (en suite it must be told), mine being one of them. This is going to be interesting......

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Denpasar - Dili, Monday 16 April 2007

Leaving Bali for East Timor today.

Breakfast in Bali was great! A tropical delight of incredibly fresh fruit whose tastes just explode on your tongue. Juicy melon, sweet pineapple and an extremely tart lime to clear my palate. Followed by a 'traditional' Indonesian breakfast of fried rice, eggs and a wafer. Yummy. The solitude of the breakfast environs is brightened a little by the cute Australian Sheila sipping her bottled water several tables away from me as she plans her day of touristy activities.

Sanur, where the Hotel Puri Kelapa is located, is about 30 minutes from the airport and quieter than the more touristy districts closer to the airport. Rs85,000 for the taxi should get you here (that's the official rate) although beware of the other taxi touts wanting to charge up to Rs100,000 just because you look a little lost and like a tourist. Just like in Joburg! Everywhere there are hundreds of sccoters around. It's the most popular form of transport around. I've even seen some women riding side-saddle! The taxi driver yesterday was saying that that was the more modest way for a woman to sit on the pillon - not this modern way with legs akimbo. Anyway, that's something for me to try when I'm back home.

Unlike most of Indonesia, Bali is 90% Hindu. One of the most heartwarming sights on my way from the airport yesterday through downtown Denpasar was a mosque, a church and a temple with a huge statue straight out of the Ramayana co-existing side by side in one precinct on a city block. A sort of miniature South East Asian Jerusalem but without the religious contestation.

Checking in, all metal objects must be removed from one's person - including in my case my belt because the big buckle was setting off the detector. I wonder if passengers have wardrobe malfunctions here? Some of the locals had to remove even their shoes; I was spared that.  Now a 1hr45min trip to Dili.....

My flight to Dili was delayed by more than an hour due to rotational reasons, so we're only flying out at 11h30 rather than 10h05. Again the whole complexion of the flight has changed. I guess few people go to Dili on holiday. Yesterday the taxi driver assumed I was a military type when I said I was going to Dili for 2 weeks. Or from the UN. So today I'm dressed like a tourist in 3/4 pants and sporting a shirt from Zanzibar that'll help me cope with the heat a little better. Most of the foreigners now occupying the departure hall are on their way to Jakarta. One Australian-sounding chap had evacuated several weeks back, ensuring that some local Timorese too were evacuated and had not been let back to run his business it sounds like. He was heading back now on a tourist's visa. Looks like Dili will be an interesting place.

Another assumption is that I'm local. The Malay/Javanese/Indonesian part of my heritage must be coming through quite strongly in my features. Like on my last visit to Thailand, it's interesting to see the virtual doubles of people I recognise as Capetonians on the these streets.

I nearly caused an international incident at Dili airport because I had insufficient dollars for the 30USD visa charge. Sweating in line I was sent from one immigration official to another, finally interrogated about the purpose of my visit and how come I had no money on me, how much was loaded on my credit card, just who were you visiting etc... Finally I got a break when the driver who had come to pick me up (John) was allowed to come and explain the situation and the reason for my visit. And it turned out that he knew the chief immigration interrogator - so it all turned out OK.

Leaving the airport, my first impressions was of a society under seige - but not from guerillas or armed militia - rather from the pervasive presence of police - official East Timorese, the UN police force drawn from countries from around the world, the special Portuguese police force and the Australian army in full military fatigues. All offering protection and security. While we have to drive along potholed streets and burned out relics of buildings - memoirs of the Indonesian army's withdrawal and their scorched earth policy with their retreat in 1999. The country it seems has yet to recover.

Unemployment is rife - upwards of 50% depending on where in the country you are. Marginalised youth are visible on the streets everywhere (this is my target audience) when they should be in school in the middle of the day. Dogs, goats and pigs roam the streets. Traffic rules mean very little; overtaking on a barrier line in the face of oncoming traffic has been perfected by most drivers. I have yet to see a car accident though. Although I guess one cannot travel too quickly given the state of many of the roads.

My accommodation in Dili is very, very different to that in Bali! My home away from home for the next 2 weeks will be a converted container that houses 4 little cubicles (en suite it must be told), mine being one of them. This is going to be interesting......

Blogged with Flock

Denpasar - Dili, Monday 16 April 2007

Leaving Bali for East Timor today.

Breakfast in Bali was great! A tropical delight of incredibly fresh fruit whose tastes just explode on your tongue. Juicy melon, sweet pineapple and an extremely tart lime to clear my palate. Followed by a 'traditional' Indonesian breakfast of fried rice, eggs and a wafer. Yummy. The solitude of the breakfast environs is brightened a little by the cute Australian Sheila sipping her bottled water several tables away from me as she plans her day of touristy activities.

Sanur, where the Hotel Puri Kelapa is located, is about 30 minutes from the airport and quieter than the more touristy districts closer to the airport. Rs85,000 for the taxi should get you here (that's the official rate) although beware of the other taxi touts wanting to charge up to Rs100,000 just because you look a little lost and like a tourist. Just like in Joburg! Everywhere there are hundreds of sccoters around. It's the most popular form of transport around. I've even seen some women riding side-saddle! The taxi driver yesterday was saying that that was the more modest way for a woman to sit on the pillon - not this modern way with legs akimbo. Anyway, that's something for me to try when I'm back home.

Unlike most of Indonesia, Bali is 90% Hindu. One of the most heartwarming sights on my way from the airport yesterday through downtown Denpasar was a mosque, a church and a temple with a huge statue straight out of the Ramayana co-existing side by side in one precinct on a city block. A sort of miniature South East Asian Jerusalem but without the religious contestation.

Checking in, all metal objects must be removed from one's person - including in my case my belt because the big buckle was setting off the detector. I wonder if passengers have wardrobe malfunctions here? Some of the locals had to remove even their shoes; I was spared that.  Now a 1hr45min trip to Dili.....

My flight to Dili was delayed by more than an hour due to rotational reasons, so we're only flying out at 11h30 rather than 10h05. Again the whole complexion of the flight has changed. I guess few people go to Dili on holiday. Yesterday the taxi driver assumed I was a military type when I said I was going to Dili for 2 weeks. Or from the UN. So today I'm dressed like a tourist in 3/4 pants and sporting a shirt from Zanzibar that'll help me cope with the heat a little better. Most of the foreigners now occupying the departure hall are on their way to Jakarta. One Australian-sounding chap had evacuated several weeks back, ensuring that some local Timorese too were evacuated and had not been let back to run his business it sounds like. He was heading back now on a tourist's visa. Looks like Dili will be an interesting place.

Another assumption is that I'm local. The Malay/Javanese/Indonesian part of my heritage must be coming through quite strongly in my features. Like on my last visit to Thailand, it's interesting to see the virtual doubles of people I recognise as Capetonians on the these streets.

I nearly caused an international incident at Dili airport because I had insufficient dollars for the 30USD visa charge. Sweating in line I was sent from one immigration official to another, finally interrogated about the purpose of my visit and how come I had no money on me, how much was loaded on my credit card, just who were you visiting etc... Finally I got a break when the driver who had come to pick me up (John) was allowed to come and explain the situation and the reason for my visit. And it turned out that he knew the chief immigration interrogator - so it all turned out OK.

Leaving the airport, my first impressions was of a society under seige - but not from guerillas or armed militia - rather from the pervasive presence of police - official East Timorese, the UN police force drawn from countries from around the world, the special Portuguese police force and the Australian army in full military fatigues. All offering protection and security. While we have to drive along potholed streets and burned out relics of buildings - memoirs of the Indonesian army's withdrawal and their scorched earth policy with their retreat in 1999. The country it seems has yet to recover.

Unemployment is rife - upwards of 50% depending on where in the country you are. Marginalised youth are visible on the streets everywhere (this is my target audience) when they should be in school in the middle of the day. Dogs, goats and pigs roam the streets. Traffic rules mean very little; overtaking on a barrier line in the face of oncoming traffic has been perfected by most drivers. I have yet to see a car accident though. Although I guess one cannot travel too quickly given the state of many of the roads.

My accommodation in Dili is very, very different to that in Bali! My home away from home for the next 2 weeks will be a converted container that houses 4 little cubicles (en suite it must be told), mine being one of them. This is going to be interesting......

Blogged with Flock