Sunrise

Sunrise in Dili ©Jo Barrett

In East Timor, I’ve been able to abandon my alarm clock for the sound of roosters crowing in the morning.  That sound I previously associated with barnyard children songs and peter pan has now become forever entwined with the long lazy beaches, flowering trees, and imposing tropical mountains of the island of Timor Leste.  While walking through the town on my first day, I noticed the crowds of preening, crowing birds on every corner, pecking their way throughout the city, and although I should have known what would happen, the symphony of cries, the pure cacophony that welcomed the dawn still surprised me at sunrise this morning.

 

 

Brie O’Keefe

 

Timor’s unspoilt natural beauty is striking – as soon as the plane touches down along the shore in Dili you are presented with rolling tree-covered mountains leading down to long strips of sandy beaches meeting broad blue waves.  In my experience, poverty has always been marked by serious environmental degradation – one of my strongest memories of travel was arriving in North Korea to find no trees, bushes or crops in sight.  The starving people had consumed all of it, including leaves, for food.  This is not the case here.  Lush green jungle lines the mountains even in the dry season.  The city is alive with food for sale on every corner.  The green promenade next to the ocean is lined with fish, vegetable and coconut vendors that shout the prices of their wares to the groups of people lazily making their way along the seashore on their way home or to meet friends.

 

Trying to capture the atmosphere of the world’s newest nation is difficult to describe.  10 years on, Dili has had more than its fair share of political and economic crises, but the current atmosphere is one of buzzing optimism.  Internal refugees within the cities finally feel safe enough to go home, businesses are being set up, and investment from countries like Japan, China, Australia and other international organizations are noticeable in some of the shiny new buildings throughout the city.  The eternal elasticity and indomitable nature of the human spirit is present everywhere as those who have suffered unbelievable hardship prepare to dig their elbows in and rebuild again.

 

While there is an excitement throughout the city, evidence of poverty and the past conflicts are everywhere.  In the courtyard of every church lie tents housing internally displaced people.  The burnt frames of cars and SUVs hijacked during various periods of violence have been left where they were abandoned, and are now often used for practical means – I passed one covered with a UN tarp to store cabbage, another one draped with fishing nets.  As I look at this practical use of what is now nothing more than a metal frame, I can’t help but think of what those burnt frames represent: human nature at its worst, law and order abandoned, precious resources wasted in the greed for power fuelled by violence.

 

As this half-island nation is less than 10 years old, basic things we take for granted in even the most basic developing countries present logistical nightmares.  Timor is a country of only one petrol station, 3 atms, and internet connections are few and far between.  There is a stadium, but an empty field is marked “Future installation of the Dili postal system” – there is still much to do. To add to the strangeness for us westerners, Timor’s beautiful beaches, unspoilt reefs for diving and amazing mountain views seem to hold little value to people who are looking for sustainable employment and affordable education.  Who needs a beach if there’s never money for a vacation?  Although tourists are beginning to come, there is a long way to go.

 

The evidence of an international presence in Dili is everywhere – the streets are full of UN jeeps, the refugee camps within Dili are draped with IOM tarps (International Organization for Migration) and UNHCR tents (UN High Commission for Refugees).  Whole families live in single tents laid out in neat rows on the grounds of churches, international NGOs, or occasionally religious schools – anywhere neutral that has a gate that can be locked in times of violence.

 

Given the wide, open and beautiful smiles I receive on the streets of Dili whenever I walk around, it’s hard to believe that violence can break out at any second.  But during our first briefing meeting at our work we were warned, that although they expected everything during our visit to go smoothly, the situation in Timor is always volatile, and we should be aware that things could change on a moment’s notice.  It’s the legacy they say, of a violent past and a current administration intent on making peace with Indonesia, despite the troubled past between the two nations.  This failure of justice fuels a climate where violent action will have no consequences.

 

Tomorrow we begin work – and I worry people won’t want to speak to us, having done too many interviews with international agencies promising change, and seeing little result.  I am eager to see what is behind those large broad smiles of the Timorese, to hear of both their heartbreak and victory, I want to see if I can’t take those stories home with me, instil them in the spirits of the UK public and make them take action.

 

 

Brie O’Keefe