It’s a long way to Timor

“Dili? You must mean BALI” shrieked the woman sitting behind the Heathrow check in desk as she cast an eye over my travel itinerary. Nope, not Bali. “I am going to East Timor”, I explained. “It’s kinda near Australia”.

 

Kinda “near” Australia is probably an underexageration. Getting to Timor from London actually feels like a trip to the other end of the universe – it took me a whole 48 hours to get through three flights, an 8 hour stop-over in Malaysia and a night in Bali. Although this tiny island nation is just a stone’s throw from Darwin on a world map, it’s desperately inaccessible.

 

Which probably fuelled my relief as we finally shot down the runway at Dili airport at a rate of knots. I’d seen the sea creeping up from the plane’s window and had started to wonder if there was likely to be a runway in Timor – then suddenly it came into view, though the waves were almost licking the landing strip.

Jo Barrett 

So, here I am in Dili, East Timor’s capital city. As the one-gal ‘advance party’ for Progressio’s pre-Timor campaign trip I am officially checking the place out before the rest of the party arrive tomorrow. We’ll be spending a week here gathering stories and photos for our year long campaign which is calling on the UK government to fulfil its responsibilities to the people of East Timor. But more of that later.

 

Dili - home to a hefty proportion of the island’s million+ people - is stiflingly hot, buzzing with crazy drivers and the occasional push cart – all moving along to the tune of incessant honking horns and barking dogs. We drove in from the airport past a few shacks and crumbling houses – but my first impression wasn’t one of extreme poverty. Pot holes and noticeably ‘poor’ - but not desperately so. We drove past the beach just so I could have a peek. Deep blue, rolling waves dotted with bobbing boats. It’s amazing to think a city with such a picturesque setting can have such a troubled past.

 

Having checked in with Progressio’s country office – which is nestled in a back street just a couple of minutes from the beach – I headed home for an early night. Apparently, it’s best not to walk about after dark and public transport grinds to a halt as the sun goes down.

 

As does the electricity. I’ve had three power cuts since yesterday, one in the middle of an email, another as I was about to tuck into a steamed fish dinner and the third at work this morning. The general reaction: “you must wait… ” And wait you must. The frequent electricity blips can apparently keep entire offices from working for hours on end – this morning we retired to the 39 degree shade for a coffee until the generator reassuringly hummed back into life again – over an hour later. Timor is certainly going to be an adventure – but I am loving the slow pace of life!

 

Jo Barrett