Elo/Bonoite/Selamat Sore! (in all 3 languages spoken here)
It's been an amazing and full first week in Timor Leste/East Timor, the first stop on my international development project with Accenture Development Partnerships, the UN, and the Shell Foundation. This week we spent both meeting with a dozen organizations involved in the development of Timor Leste and really gaining an understanding of the realities on the ground through field visits. First stop was the US Embassy, where we received a quick response to drop by and discuss our project and goals. The US State Dept is not only a major donor to the Global Alliance for Clean Cookstoves, but also has an added vested interest thanks to the attention Hillary Clinton gave the issue by announcing the formation of the Alliance personally. This keenness was further evidenced by the fact that we were greeted not only by the Deputy of Mission but the Ambassador herself! We sat and spoke casually in the old Indonesian governor's house, now home of the Ambassador and full of relics of Indonesian and Portuguese colonial days past. After an hour or so we ended on a positive note and they not only donated a local resource to help us navigate around but also organized meetings for the rest of the week with local Timorese cooperatives, government ministries, activist organizations, and NGO's such as World Vision, Oxfam, and the World Bank. All went very well but reinforced the realization that this will be an uphill battle against history, demography and economic reality.
To give you some context, Timor Leste is the
world's newest nation and has been to hell and back to get here. The
incredible beauty of this country and its people can be eclipsed only
by the tragic history it has endured. Colonized by Portugal in the 16th
century, Timor Leste enjoyed little attention
from the rest of the world as a neglected trading post, with Portuguese
involvement mostly restricted to the coastal and fringe areas of the
country (TL is very mountainous and getting around is slow going, to say
the least). After decolonization, TL declared independence in 1975 and
was almost immediately invaded and occupied by Indonesia, costing over a
hundred thousand Timorese lives (they have a current population of only
~1 million). After decades of brutal occupation during which many
Timorese moved into the mountains to fight a guerrilla war against their
occupiers, Timor finally caught the attention of the international community after the infamous "Balibo Five" killings and the Dili Massacre,
during which Indonesian troops opened fire on a several-thousand strong
funeral procession for a pro-independence activist at a cemetery here
in the capital. The whole event was caught on film by a British
cameraman hiding in a nearby burial vault who, after burying the film
and returning later to collect it, smuggled it out of the country to TV
stations in the UK. After an outcry from Portugal (who cringed as the
Timorese were praying in Portuguese), increased pressure from the
international community and finally threats by US President Bill Clinton
himself, the UN forced Indonesia's hand and a referendum was held in
1999 to allow the Timorese to decide their own fate -- independence or
continued integration with Indonesia. Results tallied, it became very
clear (by an 80% majority and a 95% voter turnout rate... the last US
election had a 57% turnout!) that TL wanted to be it's own nation.
Indonesia bitterly acquiesced, but not before removing or destroying
everything in Timor Leste on their way out. When
I say bitter, I'm talking scorched Earth -- they destroyed almost all
Timorese infrastructure, raped hundreds of women and displaced 3/4 of
the population who fled to the mountains. The scars from this experience
are still visible on both the faces of the Timorese people and in the
ruins which remain in many parts of Dili. After intervention and
stabilization by the UN, Timor Leste finally became a recognized nation in May 2002.
Funnily enough, the phrase "recognized nation" carries a lot more
meaning here than one might think. I just finished having drinks with
Manuel Tilman, the head of the current Timorese Parliament (they follow
the Portuguese Parliamentary Republic model) and author of the current
constitution. As a lawyer, he personally drafted the constitution in
2002 and later quickly revised one word -- "restored" to
"internationally recognized" independence -- before it was signed (and
without anyone realizing!). Upon asking how large a significance this
had, he asked how old the country was and I immediately understood... to
"restore" independence would imply that they were sovereign in 1975;
for it to have achieved "international recognition" in 2002 would make Timor Leste 27 years younger. The practical difference is that now contracts,
marriages and land disputes can fall back on Portuguese law, allowing
them to be resolved, rather than no law (as none had yet been created)
if this subtle phrasing had not been altered. It caused quite a ruckus
as the signers wanted recognition going back to 1975 but, as he says,
it's too late now and most agree the legal stability was worth the
sacrifice. As we spoke the power went out, as it often does in Dili, and
we continued on in the dark for 20 minutes before it was restored. He was refreshingly proud and yet laid-back and we spoke for a
couple more hours about the many challenges facing TL before he resigned
to his digs here in our complex.
As for our field visits, nothing could prepare me for what we saw yesterday. After a 4 hour drive through half-paved roads, washed away bridges and mud crossings we had managed to cover only 10 miles as the crow flies, but arrived safely at our destination of Maubisse, a central mountain town and birthplace of our friend Mr. Tilman. We stopped in the village market to pick up bité, tobacco leaves that are chewed, and cigarettes to give to the village we planned to visit as an offering. We then drove to over 8000ft from sea level, eventually ditching the 4x4's to trek by foot the last few hundred feet to the huts situated on the choicest slice of real estate -- right on top of the mountain. As we climbed, children and adults began coming out of nowhere yelling malay! malay! (whites) and following us up the hill. At the top we were greeted by a half-dozen Timorese children and shown where we could leave our offering. After receiving permission to enter their huts, we took photos of their cooking 'facilities' and asked about traditional cooking habits, usage of firewood and awareness of the dangers of smoke inhalation. Almost comically, we did this under the watchful gaze of their 5-year-old daughter wearing a ragged teddy bear sweater, puffing on a cigarette and coughing up a storm between sleeve-wipes of her running nose. The village elder, who was reportedly over 100 years old, explained through interpreters how the fires are kept burning 24 hours a day regardless of meals, as the smoke not only reinforces the impermeability of the thatch roofs and dries the vegetables hanging from the ceiling, but also wards away malevolent spirits. If the fire dies the home can no longer be occupied until it is rekindled, lest the occupiers be cursed. Thus they live in a state of perpetual smoke, even as newborns -- fires are kept burning under the cribs of newborn babies for 80 days as per tradition. All my initial hypotheses go tumbling down that mountain as it finally begins to sink in how much we are up against...
Returning to Maubisse we throw our bags in our overnight home, a old Portuguese posada,
ex-home to the colonial governor of yesteryear, and enjoy a local
dinner and a few beers before dusk settles in over the mountains. Lights
flicker to life at 6pm, when electricity outside of the cities is
switched on, and suddenly die again at midnight. Even if you are part of
the 10% of the population lucky enough to be connected to the grid, 6
hours a day of electricity is all you have to work with. As I fall
asleep I write up notes on the day and the immense challenges facing a
developmental program of any kind, and our program in particular.
Back in Dili now, I'm going to relax and enjoy the weekend before another round of interviews next week with the Ministry of Health, the World Food Program, the World Bank and more. Timor Leste is renowned for its world-class diving, so hopefully I'll have a photo of a whaleshark to share soon.
/eh
It's been an amazing and full first week in Timor Leste/East Timor, the first stop on my international development project with Accenture Development Partnerships, the UN, and the Shell Foundation. This week we spent both meeting with a dozen organizations involved in the development of Timor Leste and really gaining an understanding of the realities on the ground through field visits. First stop was the US Embassy, where we received a quick response to drop by and discuss our project and goals. The US State Dept is not only a major donor to the Global Alliance for Clean Cookstoves, but also has an added vested interest thanks to the attention Hillary Clinton gave the issue by announcing the formation of the Alliance personally. This keenness was further evidenced by the fact that we were greeted not only by the Deputy of Mission but the Ambassador herself! We sat and spoke casually in the old Indonesian governor's house, now home of the Ambassador and full of relics of Indonesian and Portuguese colonial days past. After an hour or so we ended on a positive note and they not only donated a local resource to help us navigate around but also organized meetings for the rest of the week with local Timorese cooperatives, government ministries, activist organizations, and NGO's such as World Vision, Oxfam, and the World Bank. All went very well but reinforced the realization that this will be an uphill battle against history, demography and economic reality.
To give you some context, Timor Leste is the
world's newest nation and has been to hell and back to get here. The
incredible beauty of this country and its people can be eclipsed only
by the tragic history it has endured. Colonized by Portugal in the 16th
century, Timor Leste enjoyed little attention
from the rest of the world as a neglected trading post, with Portuguese
involvement mostly restricted to the coastal and fringe areas of the
country (TL is very mountainous and getting around is slow going, to say
the least). After decolonization, TL declared independence in 1975 and
was almost immediately invaded and occupied by Indonesia, costing over a
hundred thousand Timorese lives (they have a current population of only
~1 million). After decades of brutal occupation during which many
Timorese moved into the mountains to fight a guerrilla war against their
occupiers, Timor finally caught the attention of the international community after the infamous "Balibo Five" killings and the Dili Massacre,
during which Indonesian troops opened fire on a several-thousand strong
funeral procession for a pro-independence activist at a cemetery here
in the capital. The whole event was caught on film by a British
cameraman hiding in a nearby burial vault who, after burying the film
and returning later to collect it, smuggled it out of the country to TV
stations in the UK. After an outcry from Portugal (who cringed as the
Timorese were praying in Portuguese), increased pressure from the
international community and finally threats by US President Bill Clinton
himself, the UN forced Indonesia's hand and a referendum was held in
1999 to allow the Timorese to decide their own fate -- independence or
continued integration with Indonesia. Results tallied, it became very
clear (by an 80% majority and a 95% voter turnout rate... the last US
election had a 57% turnout!) that TL wanted to be it's own nation.
Indonesia bitterly acquiesced, but not before removing or destroying
everything in Timor Leste on their way out. When
I say bitter, I'm talking scorched Earth -- they destroyed almost all
Timorese infrastructure, raped hundreds of women and displaced 3/4 of
the population who fled to the mountains. The scars from this experience
are still visible on both the faces of the Timorese people and in the
ruins which remain in many parts of Dili. After intervention and
stabilization by the UN, Timor Leste finally became a recognized nation in May 2002.Funnily enough, the phrase "recognized nation" carries a lot more
meaning here than one might think. I just finished having drinks with
Manuel Tilman, the head of the current Timorese Parliament (they follow
the Portuguese Parliamentary Republic model) and author of the current
constitution. As a lawyer, he personally drafted the constitution in
2002 and later quickly revised one word -- "restored" to
"internationally recognized" independence -- before it was signed (and
without anyone realizing!). Upon asking how large a significance this
had, he asked how old the country was and I immediately understood... to
"restore" independence would imply that they were sovereign in 1975;
for it to have achieved "international recognition" in 2002 would make Timor Leste 27 years younger. The practical difference is that now contracts,
marriages and land disputes can fall back on Portuguese law, allowing
them to be resolved, rather than no law (as none had yet been created)
if this subtle phrasing had not been altered. It caused quite a ruckus
as the signers wanted recognition going back to 1975 but, as he says,
it's too late now and most agree the legal stability was worth the
sacrifice. As we spoke the power went out, as it often does in Dili, and
we continued on in the dark for 20 minutes before it was restored. He was refreshingly proud and yet laid-back and we spoke for a
couple more hours about the many challenges facing TL before he resigned
to his digs here in our complex. As for our field visits, nothing could prepare me for what we saw yesterday. After a 4 hour drive through half-paved roads, washed away bridges and mud crossings we had managed to cover only 10 miles as the crow flies, but arrived safely at our destination of Maubisse, a central mountain town and birthplace of our friend Mr. Tilman. We stopped in the village market to pick up bité, tobacco leaves that are chewed, and cigarettes to give to the village we planned to visit as an offering. We then drove to over 8000ft from sea level, eventually ditching the 4x4's to trek by foot the last few hundred feet to the huts situated on the choicest slice of real estate -- right on top of the mountain. As we climbed, children and adults began coming out of nowhere yelling malay! malay! (whites) and following us up the hill. At the top we were greeted by a half-dozen Timorese children and shown where we could leave our offering. After receiving permission to enter their huts, we took photos of their cooking 'facilities' and asked about traditional cooking habits, usage of firewood and awareness of the dangers of smoke inhalation. Almost comically, we did this under the watchful gaze of their 5-year-old daughter wearing a ragged teddy bear sweater, puffing on a cigarette and coughing up a storm between sleeve-wipes of her running nose. The village elder, who was reportedly over 100 years old, explained through interpreters how the fires are kept burning 24 hours a day regardless of meals, as the smoke not only reinforces the impermeability of the thatch roofs and dries the vegetables hanging from the ceiling, but also wards away malevolent spirits. If the fire dies the home can no longer be occupied until it is rekindled, lest the occupiers be cursed. Thus they live in a state of perpetual smoke, even as newborns -- fires are kept burning under the cribs of newborn babies for 80 days as per tradition. All my initial hypotheses go tumbling down that mountain as it finally begins to sink in how much we are up against...
As we wave goodbye and our 4x4's pull away, I have the solemn
realization that at least 1 in 6 of these smiling faces will likely die
as a result of severe malnutrition. You can even see it in the bloated
stomachs of some of the youngest. More will succumb to malaria,
tuberculosis, leprosy or a laundry list of other fatal yet easily
preventable conditions. You wouldn't believe the number of pediatric
deaths from something as simple as diarrhea. Suddenly that cigarette
seems like the last thing that should be worrying the mother of that
coughing 5 year old.
Returning to Maubisse we throw our bags in our overnight home, a old Portuguese posada,
ex-home to the colonial governor of yesteryear, and enjoy a local
dinner and a few beers before dusk settles in over the mountains. Lights
flicker to life at 6pm, when electricity outside of the cities is
switched on, and suddenly die again at midnight. Even if you are part of
the 10% of the population lucky enough to be connected to the grid, 6
hours a day of electricity is all you have to work with. As I fall
asleep I write up notes on the day and the immense challenges facing a
developmental program of any kind, and our program in particular. Back in Dili now, I'm going to relax and enjoy the weekend before another round of interviews next week with the Ministry of Health, the World Food Program, the World Bank and more. Timor Leste is renowned for its world-class diving, so hopefully I'll have a photo of a whaleshark to share soon.
/eh