We have just come to the end of three weeks in Timor Leste, and a fairly remarkable three weeks it certainly was.
East Timor is perched somewhere near the far eastern of of south east Asia, being half of the island of Timor. We flew into the capital Dili from Darwin, a 1 1/2 hour flight in a little 30 seater plane. We found a city somewhat in ruin, overrun with gleaming white UN 4x4's and too many UNHCR refugee camps. Which was also very hot and humid. Amongst this chaos the Timorese folk, those not throwing stones that is, were busy trying to build their nation.
The island of Timor was squabbled over by the Portuguese and the Dutch for several hundred years before, like a divorcing couple, they agreed to split the island down the middle more or less. The Portuguese got the east (plus the enclave of Oecussi) until the Japanese ran through during the second world war. Once they surrendered, the Dutch ceded west Timor to what had become Indonesia whilst the Portuguese hung on to their part. With regime change in Portugal in the mid 70's came a sudden policy shift and the Portuguese pulled out of East Timor. For about a week the East Timorese had their independance. It took that long for the Indonesians to invade, armed by the Americans and probably condoned by the Australians, with fears abounding of a new communist state on Darwin's doorstep. Nothing to do with the massive oil fields nearby nor the deep sea channels handy for sailing US nuclear submarines through undetected towards China, obviously. The Indonsian occupation was bloody and brutal. By all accounts they murdered about a quater of the population whilst there. Eventually the world woke up to what was going on in East Timor, especially following the massacre at the Santa Cruz cemetary in Dili, whereby the Indonesian military shot 200 protestors, and had the misfortune of international journalists filming the event. A UN sponsored referendum saw an overwhelming vote for independance in 1999. Pro-integrationist Indonsian military sorts took defeat badly and destroyed just about everything on their way out, the UN ran the show for a few years and then in 2002 East Timor became the worlds newest country (that honour now goes to Montenegro, we think). Sadly, in April and June 2006 unrest in Dili broke out into full scale grief, though the Australian army quietened things down fairly sharpish. So it's a lively place right now. Presidential elections are scheduled for the 9th April this year, which should be interesting.
On our arrival, we found Dili to feel perfectly alright. Except for at night that is, when local gangs of lads threw stones and arrows at each other around town. There is an obvious military presence and UN police from all over the world wandering about, but during the day all seemed calm and cheerful enough. Dili is barely functional, with constanty failing power and water supplies and crumbling buildings everywhere. Refugee camps are dotted about all over the city, mostly it seemed around the various sights that could have been considered tourist attractions. That or they have been burnt down. Mind you, someone had pointlessly installed some traffic lights. So that was something. Despite all this we had a good time there, getting a slight view into the world of the UN worker, meeting people of all nationalities (the Congalese chap with the World Bank was very impressed with my worship of Lua Lua, as you would expect), and generally drinking beer with all sorts of folk. We had somewhat underestimated just how few tourists visit East Timor presently, and everyone seemed rather suprised to see us.
From Dili we bussed south through Maubisse to the beautiful hill village of Hatu Builico. The scenery here is wonderful with big, dramatic hills and picturesque hamlets dotted around the hillside. We climbed Mt Ramelau for sunrise, it beiong the highest mountain on TImor at just under 3000m. The views were suitably awe inspiring. We also attended a village meeting, flag raising ceremony and general party in honour of the visit of the Secretary General of the Democratic Party. We became guests of the affair and listened carefully through several hours of speeches whipping up election fever, before the evening became a disco affair. The one and only generator in the village was commandered from our guesthouse and used to power the tape player and two lightbulbs, the lighting dimming romantically everytime a tune was played. This was somewhere about your first school disco on the evolutionary scale of nightlife, but a good laugh all the same. The Secretary General gave us a lift out of town the next day, which was also kind given that there was no other transport available. From there we made our way south to Ainaro, a place evidently particularly hard hit by the 1999 violence. Basically, every single building except the church was left in ruins, and they mostly still are. The depressingly large graveyards that adorn every village, everywhere, show the real cost.
Back in Dili we saw the security situation slipping. There were more problems, more often. Tear gas being used to dispere crowds gathered by four in the afternoon. Choppers bussing about the place. the odd demonstration, albeit peaceful. We hopped off along the east coast, through Bacau (which used to be the last stage of the old hippy trail through Asia to Australia, when ferries would run to Darwin - those days are long gone) to the beach town of Com. Here we met the second tourist of our stay, a German getting a new Indonesian visa. After a couple of days lounging about, keeping an eye on the huge schools of dolphins leapoing about off shore, we reached the far east of the island in Tutuala and Jaco Island. Jaco Island sits just off the tip of Timor, and is pretty much the picture perfect desert island. the fishing lads gave us a lift over for the day, to allow us to enjoy our very own crusoe moment on the white coral sand and crystal clear waters. Via Los Palos we returned to Dili, now finding the situation further deteriorated. Trouble was erupting around town by midday. The locals were upset about the rice shortages. Goverment cars were being stoned and targetted, am Australian UN worker took a stone in the face. If we hadn't been planning to leave anyway, we'd have changed our plans. The day we left saw tanks rolling through the streets.
We hot footed our way out to Maliana in the far west of the country (this took us through Balibo, the scene of the likely execution of five journalists working for Australian TV in 1975, who were trying to report on the invasion of the country by Indonesian forces. The story has ongoing resonance given the controversy surrounding the incident. One of the chaps who allegedly pulled the trigger on them is the current Minister of Information in the Indonesian Government. One of the dead was a Scottish fellow, and another equirey is presently or has recently been ongoing in Australia) and then over the border into Indonesian West Timor. We are now, via Atambua, in Kupang, in the west of West Timor, about to get a ferry north and thence across Indonesia.
East Timor was in many ways an amzing place to visit. Whilst Dili is a bit lairy right now, outside of the capital there are no problems at all. There are very few tourists making their way around, but we found the potential for exploration was enormous, the people friendly, the scenery suprisingly beautiful and the general sense of adventure powerful.
