Lunch in Liquica

The Church in Liquisa was the site of a massacre in 1999 ©Brie OKeefe

 

We’ve driven 2 hours outside Dili to the town of Liquica, site of a famous massacre, but also a district, like so many in Timor, of fishermen, farmers and families.  We arrive in the full heat of the midday sun and are greeted by sleepy houses with roosters, pigs and children running about, palm wine and biscuits sold by the roadside, and the large church, where we’ve come to interview the local priest, and a survivor of violence on their experiences, hopes and dreams for Timor.

 

Brie O’Keefe

We’ve been here 4 days now, and the 10-12 hour days of interviewing, driving, logistics and transcribing are beginning to take their toll on me.  The management of a photographer with his own set of needs, 2 drivers, 2 interpreters and our media officer and myself requires careful consideration, not including the well intentioned hospitality of our hosts.  They interrupt our interview, as one man is describing his near escape from death, to insist we have coffee.  Frustrated at the rhythm of our interview being disturbed, hot and tired, I leave Jo and Jose so that he can give his story with the respect it deserves and so I can meet with our drivers, spare interpreter and photographer to have another of the seemingly endless discussions of timing – if we go there now, and you follow us, what time?  When?  And lunch?  The driver says….  Have you told them?  My head spins at the logistical inertia it seems inhibits our every move.

Jo and translator Domingas interview Jose ©Brie OKeefe

We invite Jose, the survivor we’ve interviewed, for lunch before we move to his house to photograph his family.  In Timor, most restaurants and hotels have been set up exclusively to cater to the large amounts of UN, international NGO and peacekeeping forces that are stationed here.  Because of that, restaurants outside of Dili, like our sleepy Rose restaurant, only take orders placed ahead of time – a reassurance for us that in this sleepy village with little business our food will be fresh.  It also gives us a local view on exactly who’s who in the international presence in Dili:  we dine with 3 Cuban doctors, 2 UN office personnel, a scattering of other NGO staff and several Japanese and Chinese business people or government officials. 

Towards the end of our meal, a large convoy of heavily armed Australian peacekeepers arrive.  They buy some cokes, and leave, before returning again to speak to us.  They explain they’re currently surveying the district’s infrastructure, and want to know if we can help them gather information about which districts have access to running water, electricity, and basic health services.  We apologise and explain that we’re from London and work only in Dili, but direct them to Carlos, the Portuguese language teacher we met in a nearby school, on the 4^th year of his placement in a Portuguese programme for Timorese teachers aimed at improving quality of Portuguese taught in local schools. 

The Australians are in full camouflage gear, and after leaving again, return briefly to take our cards and photograph us – sheepishly explaining they needed evidence of speaking with us.  They are wide with the gear they carry, and heavy with automatic weapons.  Although I can see they are used to it, they sweat in their heavy clothe sin the noon heat.  They stop and speak to us and we ask them about what their daily work entails, and as some of them are on their 2^nd or 3^rd deployment to Timor, what has changed since then.

“Well, the riots of 2006 were pretty full-on” explains Matt.  As he speaks I try to decipher the tattoos across his fingers, but fail.  “The riots in the hospital between different regional groups were difficult.  But things are a lot better now”.  I’m struck at the differences in the language we use to describe the same phenomena – as NGOs we use words that show we are seeking to understand and explain social reality.  We use words like “civil unrest” where these Australian peacekeepers say “riots”.  They use language of immediate – they seek to manage, control, and police and their language reflects that.  There is no causality in the word ‘murder,’ whereas the NGO term might be ‘extrajudicial executions’.  We may say ‘cycle of impunity’ where they say simply ‘continued deployment’.  Their words are the facts laid most bare, and I enjoy hearing how their mission and perspective on issues is reflected in how they express themselves in English. 

Matt discusses with us what he’s read about the history of Timor and its relevance, and yet strangely defers to our knowledge as ‘experts’, despite his 3 years of experience in the country over our 4 days.  I sense from this peacekeeper, as he explains his work, and shyly tries to assert his opinion on what is happening here, that we both want the same thing:  Peace, development, poverty reduction.  We part ways with the Aussies and go on to our next tale of survival, while he goes on to find out exactly who does and doesn’t have water in Liquica.  I hope we both find what we’re looking for, and yet I know if we get answers we’ll leave with only more questions, more work to be done.

Brie O’Keefe