Establishing life in Timor

As I write a rooster is telling itself that it is the crack of dawn (this is untrue, it is nearly six in the evening), BBC is informing me about world events from the living room, and the rain is hammering the window. I have been living in Dili for a week now, and have not been in Denmark for a while, and thus it is time for this first blog entry.

Upon my departure from Denmark, I travelled first to Jakarta to rendezvous with my father. My father runs an ecotourism company, and provides tours throughout Indonesia, with varying degree's of harshness. Tours for those who'd rather visit Indonesia’s many spa's and beaches, tours for those who want to hike in rainforests, or on volcanoes, and tours for those who want to try to survive in the rainforest, or among tribes of the sea. He took me along for a trial of some of the locations; the volcano Krakatoa, national park Ujung Kulon home to the Javanese Rhino and various other rare species of fauna and flora, and the botanical gardens and national park of Bogor. A narration of this trip would be very lengthy, but in short involves beautiful boat trips, and wonderful walks through lowland rainforest, as well as much photography. Also, I cannot resist but add, an 11 hour car ride on roads that were mildly speaking, rusak. Broken. Crumbled, disintegrated, etc. 

Following Jakarta I had a brief stop over in Bali, living with Lawrence and his father Ron. Lawrence is a friend of Gorm's from Bali, and he stayed with me briefly during the summer. While Lawrence was in school, Ron and I discussed NGO activity, politics, the great music of the 70's and earlier, had conversations about books, and sang along to Led Zeppelin as we drove to pick up Lawrence after school. They live in a house in the mountain, with a pool overlooking the valley and river. In the morning, the sun rises over the treetops, and the mist rises scenically. Lawrence's father Ron collects snakes for a hobby, and took them out to clean the cages:

Saturday morning I departed from Denpasar airport, Bali. It was, I'll admit, excitement mixed with enormous sadness. Stepping onto the air-plane, I became suddenly conscious about what I was doing. I suddenly understood the many raised eyebrows I have received in the past year, the many queries of 'are you sure?' 'do you think you can do that?'. These things never really occurred to me in the planning process, but stepping onto the daily Timor airplane, all the doubts, all the insecurities, and the sorrow of a life left behind hit me. On that note, I want to extend a thanks to you all for making Denmark such a welcoming place to return to one day. It means a lot for someone whose life was always envisioned as somewhat nomadic and eternally foreign.

The first two days of Dili were spent relaxing, catching up with mom, reading, and watching the Big Bang Theory while drinking Gin and Tonics (for medical purposes, as tonic contains quinine against malaria.). At this point I will mention that I live in Dili, the capital city of Timor-Leste, and I live in the sub-district Christo Rei – named for the Jesus statue overlooking the sea, the second largest Jesus statue in the world. I live in a suco (village) called Bidau Santana, named after Santa Ana, mother of Mary. It is on the outskirts of Dili, but only a 5-10 minute walk to the centre of the town. There are over 100,000 people in Dili, and about 1,2 million in all of Timor.

I have started attending language courses at Dili Institute of Technology, the DIT university, one of two in Timor. There are four others in my beginners class, a housewife from Japan, a nun from India who has a nifty little tattoo on her hand, a Norwegian working with a ministry, and an Australian music teacher. It's a mixed bunch, and from 8.30 in the morning, to 12.30 we all diligently sit and compose sentences in Tetun. Tetun is a small language, niche to say the least. It presumably has its origins in mauri, and is influenced heavily by Portuguese and to some extent Indonesian. It is not a very difficult language, there are no tenses, so no tedious repetition of verbs forms like in French, English, or Danish. Instead it contains formulations such as “I hungry, I want eat.” Hau hamlaha, hau hakarak haan.” There are very many four letter words, and a crazy amount of words with h's and a's. Supposedly it should be possible to pick up in one to two months. I plan to continue for the next two weeks, and then take a break before taking my remaining two classes, giving me a chance to use what I have already learned, and letting it sink in. Day two and we are already expected to compose lengthy sentences. I have done my homework (servisu uma) and glanced at tomorrow's lesson, and am slightly intimidated.

Tuesday I went down to the suco office, the one that Tanja and I visited and were allowed to use as a case study for our bachelor project in April. It was a wonderful experience to be greeted by familiar faces smiling and greeting me with botarde and Diak ka lae? (Good or no?) After an exchange of assurances that all was diak, diak, diak, I gave them a copy of the report to keep in the suco as promised when we left. It immediately became the source of attention, as Lourenco (one of the interviewee's) arrived and found his own picture and quotes. There was much excitement, and I ended up spending a full two hours just hanging out. A lot of things have changed. The decrepit old neighbouring building, deserted but used to house IDP's is being converted into a centrer for the youth. I was moved, since there was talk of this centre when Tanja and I were here last, and we both exchanged cynical sad thoughts that this would never be possible. A donation by Italian missionaries later, and voilà, we are in the process of building a youth centre

Tanja and I also both felt a tremendous urge to give back to this very welcoming community, and discussed what options were available. I remember wanting to help teach English, and thinking how one could easily establish a weekly class for the kids in the suco centre I was very pleased to be told that this has in fact taken place, and there are three lessons now taking place in the weekend, making it accessible. The classes are for those under ten, for the youth, and the third for those with handicaps. This last class especially warms my heart, and characterises the empathy I associate with the current Xefe do Suco, Francisco. While the blind or deaf may not have any real use of English in comparison to youth and children, I am very happy that they are not excluded, but given a class of their own, to ensure they get sufficient teaching attention. I have been informed that this is also the class with the biggest, and most consistent attendance. Of course, I immediately offered my services, and am very excited to be able to volunteer in so simple a manner, in my local community. I may be naïve, but I feel like I am also a citizen of Bidau Santana, and I really want to contribute, and was also asked if I would like to join the others for the various activities hosted by the suco.

Wednesday was a rough day. School was difficult, and involved multiple verbs. Of the more humorous can be mentioned the verb 'halimar'. To play. However, when written with the word walk, 'lao halimar' it means to stroll. Or in front of speak, 'koalia halimar' to chat – literally play talk. I love this language. I should mention at this point some of the various volunteering options I'm looking at. I was offered a position even before coming here under Usaid, working on a land and property project in an effort to secure a smooth implementation of the land law sometime in the spring. Tuesday I was offered a position with the Technical University as a part of a team to increase the level of education, and to raise interest and enthusiasm for attending university. Wednesday I was asked to meet regarding a position on an inter-ministerial board for youth. Giving me the chance to investigate successful implementation strategies, consulting youth on their opinions, including them, etc. More importantly, the opportunity of eventual employment was aired, which is very important in the long term. And so it seems each day I encounter new employment opportunities, 5 so far of more or less serious nature.

Thursday passed relatively quietly, I conversed with the taxi driver in Tetun on the way to class, I spoke tetun at the market, and had an interesting conversation about tattoo's with a young man selling lettuce. Tattoo's have an interesting prominence here, and this young man claimed that it would be fine for women to have them too. Last time I was here, Tanja and I met Fransisco the suco youth representative, and he had a tattoo on each hand reading “Santana” and “Manumata” Santana is the village, Manumata, the aldeia or sub village that he (and I) live in. He had had these done at the ripe and mature age of ten, and they were hardly legible. If I have time at some point I would really like to look into this tattoo culture.

I should add a note about the weather. Apx. 30 degrees, and sunshine usually in the morning and early afternoon, followed by massive rainfall in the afternoon or early evening, and a beautiful sunset to watch over dinner. The rain is so strong here that one cannot hear someone speaking from the other end of the room, and it often (consistently) causes the internet to break down. This is the view from my home:

Friday after class, I was so relieved to have the weekend off! Learning a new language so intensively is the only way to do it, but also really exhausting. Hau kolen, hau hakarak deskansa. I am tired, I want to rest. I got a lift into town, and grabbed some lunch in the Café Aroma. A café started by two Australian women, that trains young women from difficult backgrounds, teaching them English and other skills, and after six months helps them get a position somewhere else, for example in an NGO. They make glorious juice and cake. I proceeded to the World Bank which also houses the IFC and the Asian Development Bank. I met briefly with Millissa, country manager for the IFC, who had promised me office space. And voila. I have now got a desk and an internet hook up to the World Bank satellite! This still provides for a sometimes dubious internet connection though. After setting this up, I joined the Justice for the Poor team and others from the bank for some after work beers and drinks, and dinner at the beach restaurant Little Pataya. A lebanese thai combination. Many interesting discussions later, It was really time to rest after a tough week.

Saturday Mom and I slept in very late, and barely managed to drag ourselves in for a skype appointment with little brother Gorm, who is still in Denmark. The rest of the day was spent with books and The Big Bang Theory on the makeshift home cinema we have created.

Today however, the 10.10.10 we were invited to a wedding. Held at the posh Hotel Timor (there are not that many hotels here). It was a small wedding, only a few hundred people. The food (especially the chocolate mousse) was wonderful, as was the free-flowing wine. Everyone was dressed in their most fancy dress, and their highest stilletto's (this was rather an upper class wedding) and there was much dancing – no single tune suffered an empty dancefloor. In fact, the dance floor was always packed with couples dancing the famous Timorese two-step. A sort of shuffle and hip twist at varying speeds, but called either a waltz, a march, or other things by those who knew what they were talking about. I can't say I could tell the difference. I love this country, the wedding photo showed the groom in war paint, which was a stark contrast to the very well dressed posh looking man in a white tux. And the awesome culture differences as the Timorese shuffled around to Portuguese music with Tetun lovesong lyrics, and the crowd wore everything from sheer silky dresses, that hugged the body so nothing was left to the imagination, to older grandmother's in traditional dress. Indonesian batik, western clothes, and peculiar bridesmaid dresses with what looked like a hulahoop ring in the skirt. And testament to the small community here, the former Prime Minister was also in attendance and sent me a friendly wink as I left the dance floor. Everything was extravagant, and a remarkable experience.

And now, I should go and practice my tetun for the recommencement of my steep learning curve tomorrow. Ate amanya.

PS. This morning heading for class, the taxi had to pull over as the President's four wheeler passed us by on the way to the Palacio de Guverno. Its a small world.