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‘If you were me, would you have stopped nibbling at that fruit, which tasted more luscious than sweetness itself? I never stopped plucking it. I picked one fruit after another. The sweet juice would spill out of the corners of my mouth before I learned to eat more discretely.’ — Ngugi Wa Thiongo, Devil on the Cross

Perhaps I’ve been a little hard on Timor.

I’ve just returned from my third time in Mozambique in under a year. I’ve only been to Maputo and Niassa. The latter, while connected to the contiguous territory of Mozambique, is akin to Oecusse, in that its capital and most of the province is effectively cut off by land routes to the rest of the country. Only experienced truckers and brave motorists make the trip. But most fly.

The thing that I have most had to come to grips with is Leadership. Power. How it is exercised. There’s much cheap talk of “governance” by the donor governments and international institutions in Mozambique.

People in Niassa fear and respect local authorities (régulos) in a way I did not expect. Some fear dated to before consolidation of colonialism — to a time of warfare, when leaders gained power through might and magic. After socialism and the civil war, with the advent of multi-party democracy, the ruling party opted to incorporate régulos into government structures. Since 2000, much of their power is in their official contact with the State. Then some were recognised as the legal representatives of their communities. They were given uniforms and certain other privileges by the Government. Now, when foreign investors roll into town, these are the first to sign away community lands for seemingly small rewards like bicycles.

At a provincial and national level, power exists in different and ‘newer’ forms. Aside from the quite powerful figure of the provincial Governor, there are the Directores, rather high-level civil servants who seem to be part of a large network of patronage. These are people who do not make enough money to live the way they do. They construct mansions west of Maputo, or wherever they may be stationed in the Provinces. They have a fleet of Japanese cars. They often have big bellies.

I mostly came into contact with this Power on airplanes. The flight between Niassa and Maputo is a learning experience, because these Directores have ample opportunity to kick back and relax. No pesky desk or meetings to get in the way. The flights have ample beer and whisky. On the stopovers (there are often two), these gentlemen rush across the tarmac and make it as quickly as possible to the bar, where they drink two double Black Labels on ice.

Even in the most remote provincial bar I noted the presence of whisky. A couple of places even had Black Label. It was a bit like the VIP lounge in a bottle.

Am I naïve to think that things have not gone this far in Timor? (Yet)

Those (few) convicted of crimes related to the violence of 2006 are to be pardoned. Sergio Paulo Pinheiro and the team who conducted the UN Commission of Inquiry must feel like their work was a complete waste. Good luck, Timor, ever asking for another international inquiry again.

How can Timor complain that Indonesia freed Eurico? And when the Truth and Friendship releases its whitewash report soon?

If those accused of shooting Ramos Horta are brought to trial and not given a pardon, then surely the little people will figure out that justice is only for the big people.

So Angie Pires gave Alfredo the apple. She brought evil to Timor.

We watched as Susar, an admitted member of the party which attacked President Ramos Horta, made his victory lap around Dili and gave a press conference. He was received by the Prime Minister, by the head of the military.

We watched Ramos Horta pardon the deceased Alfredo Reinado.

This after Angie Pires was arrested/questioned for suspicion of conspiracy in relation to Alfredo’s attacks.

The Australian media initially covered this story quite fairly. Explaining that Angie Pires grew up in the Timorese diaspora in Darwin, never really finding direction, until she made it big when she moved back to Timor and got work with the UN. (But then so did many other crazy malais.)

Angie Pires was known for her indiscrete relationships with a number of extremely powerful members of the political elite. I do not want to rumor monger — this is widely known information. She did not deny that she had a liaison with Alfredo, nor that she was in contact with Alfredo, nor that she visited him in Ermera the weekend prior than the attacks.

Recently, Ramos Horta, the man who pardoned Alfredo, labelled Angie Pires tarada em todos os sentidos which I would translate as “perverted in all senses.” Ramos Horta explained his analysis of the motives for the attack to Público newspaper [my translation]

Information points to alcohol, drugs and his enormous irritation with the Prime Minister Xanana Gusmão for having advanced with a resolution of the case of the petitioners and thinking that in the end I was in sync with the Prime Minister’s wish to isolate the petitioners. Influenced by a pervert (in all senses) of the name Angie Pires whom he was in bed with, he decided to act against my person.

I am not saying Angie Pires’ behavior is defensible. It could have very well been criminal. But the point is that there is a very cynical, sexist attempt to heap the blame on her.

So the man who went to attack the President with attack rifles takes a victory lap. And Angie Pires is impugned for her morality. After all, she is an easy scapegoat: a light-skinned, diaspora Timorese who will garner no sympathy in the mountains and among angry urban youth who idolize Alfredo and are the key to future peace in Timor.

And after all, she came from Adam’s rib.

Metropole MAR 13 – Communication difficult – tracking Timor events via sms & web – voice not option. Skype disabled. Please confirm existence phone company Timor territory. Metropole will fund Indo sat phone

Thanks to João Paulo Esperança who drew my attention to a unique window into Timorese life, post 1999. The film “Sirana,” he suggests, is the first Timorese feature film. The protagonist is a young woman who is caught between a number of worlds in Dili. The film deals with gender relations, domestic violence, teenage angst, class divides in Dili, the impact of the international presence, and language.

There is a side plot honoring Rosa Muki Bonaparte, one of the founders of the OPMT who was martyred by the Indonesians on the day of the invasion of Dili [correction: day after]. A link is made between the struggles of early Fretilin activism for womens rights and the continued problems with domestic violence and patriarchy in independent Timor. I have to confess, I find it very moving to see Timorese people present their stories in film.

Directed by Ivete de Oliveira, the film is in the style of improvised, documentary style and the soundtrack is really memorable with Bibi Bulak and the new Cinco do Oriente. The sound is a little difficult at times, and I have trouble following all of the life-like, fast conversation in Tetum. Sirana appears to have had support from CARITAS, CIIR (now Progressio), Fokupers, Sahe Institute and Bibi Bulak among others. I hope this is just a taste of things to come after the Youtube revolution!

In my earlier post, I was optimistic about a solution with the Petitioners.

Yet intensifying and worrying rhetoric between AMP and Fretilin leads me to believe that at this point, the greatest danger to the current situation in Timor is not the Petitioners themselves, or the security forces.

It is in fact the inability of the political elites to stop attacking each other and spinning conspiracy theories. Both sides have come up with theories explaining why the other is guilty for the attack on the PM and President.

Early this evening, I spent nearly an hour translating some of these theories. They come from some named people — quite prominent — and some unnamed people. I almost posted them here. But I feel that I would be entirely hypocritical to give this thinking any space on my blog. If you’d like to read this stuff, be my guest, at Odanmatan, Timor Online, STL newspaper, Forum Haksesuk. If you would like to read my translations of this slander-fest, let me know.

I do not want to make prescriptions for Timor. Neither do I want to incessantly heap blame on the ema boot. But I do feel strongly that what they do over the next couple of days and weeks will determine possibilities for the ema ki’ik.

Some, like Allan Nairn, have suggested that leaders “hand over to the next generation.” But the next generation is in fact made up of people who have been just as partisan as the oldies.

It is time for a paradigm shift.

I think the developments of past days are positive, but nonetheless strange when seen from afar.

Susar, or Amaro da Costa, one of Alfredo’s closest confidants, surrendered with some peers and a couple of attack rifles. He was admittedly involved in the attack on Ramos Horta on February 11.

It seems hard to believe that a man implicated in the near death of President Ramos Horta could be given a hero’s welcome — he was given a meeting with TMR and Xanana and photo-ops with the press.

But we have to remember, face-saving will prevent further violence and is clearly called for, as there are presumably more men with automatic weapons in them thar hills, and Lt. Salsinha has yet to surrender. (And plus, Ramos Horta has apparently ‘forgiven’ Alfredo.)

It seems that an interesting character named Bernardo Costa, a veteran of the resistance, was key to the break-through. To arrange his surrender, Susar rang Xavier do Amaral, who remains an important figure in Timorese politics still, who I have written about frequently.

The cantonment of Petitioners in Aitak Laran is supposedly swelling at over 600 people. I wonder whether the petitioners like their new blue track suits, or feel like prisoners?

In any case, it seems it will not be long before the novelty of being together and looking the same will wear off. The government must move quickly to establish guilt for the crimes of 2006 and the attempts of last month.

The year this image (for sale on Ebay) was taken by NASA’s TIROS VII Satellite.

To put things in perspective, 1963 was the year of the “referendum” in Irian Jaya and Sukarno’s “confrontation” with Malaysia. It was of course the year of JFK’s assassination. Beatlemania started in earnest in ’63. Both Cold War superpowers were busy in the space race.

Portugal was already fighting three anti-colonial insurgencies in Africa. Algeria adopted its constitution in 1963.

In Timor, it was Filipe Themudo Barata’s last year in office, a term which he began as the repression of the Rebellion of 1959 was wrapping up. Many of those 68 deported in connection with the Rebellion – none ever having due judicial process – were still in exile in Angola. One VIP Timorese prisoner, Francisco de Araújo, and the four Indonesian prisoners, would be home by 1963.

Themudo Barata was an army man with more vision than most, and in his Timor Contemporâneo (tragically out of print, probably the best resource on post WWII Portuguese Timor), explains how bad infrastructure was on his arrival. The limited but ground-breaking work to build schools that Governor Fontoura launched in the 1930s was destroyed by Allied bombing. Themudo Barata did make strides in widening access to primary and middle school education.

Future FALINTIL leaders were already entering primary school. Tuar Matan Ruak entered in 1963, according to his official biography which is quite worthwhile.

In 1963, Constâncio Pinto and Fernando “La Sama” de Araújo were born: the beginning of a generation which would more likely enter the urban resistance than become FALINTIL.

Finally something useful from UNMIT. A photo. Suggestions for captions?

After the last post, I was wondering what could possibly lighten the mood. And then I stumbled upon “Hamnasa” — a Tetum joke blog. The author writes

Ha’u-nia blog ne’e ba ita timoroan atu hamnasa uitoan, tanba polítiku sira iha ita-nia rain só halo ita triste hela de’it. My blog is for Timorese to laugh a little, because the politicians of our land just make us sad.

It’s a real shame the blog is so biased against one political party. A lot of the jokes are anti-Fretilin, and they are funny, but there is nothing making fun of the idiocy in other parties. Some are about gender relations in Timor, however let me advise there are some pretty disparaging jokes about Australian women. For malais, it’s an opportunity to practice some Tetum. I thought I would translate a non-partisan, non-offensive joke

The signs put up at the Dili Zoo

Before 1975: Please do not feed the animals

Between 1975-1999: Please do not take the animals’ food

Between 1999-2002: Please bring the animals food and UNTAET will give you three dollars and some expensive food

Between 2002-2007: Please do not take the animals’ food and please do not eat the animals

Over a week after Alfredo’s demise, a good percentage of the visitors to this site arrive with search terms indicating they would like to see his dead body. [Warning: do not scroll down if you do not wish to see this image.]

When Savimbi was killed in Angola, there was widespread disbelief. Photos were intentionally distributed to convince people of his death.

Whatever your opinion of the man, Alfredo was not a monster like Savimbi. But like the leader of UNITA, he was larger than life. Sarah Niner reminds us that had a bit of many Timorese identities: part Portuguese, son of Fretilin, traumatized child, slave of the Indonesian army, member of urban resistance, asylum seeker, VB-drinking member of the diaspora, hirus-teen who spoke back to authority, a lover, and a man who lashed out when he felt trapped — both at home and as a rebel soldier.

In a place where so many of Alfredo’s contemporaries were disappeared from 1975-1999, is there some catharsis in seeing?

It seems the Interim Secretary and Governor Lacerda Maia really had it coming. One can almost see the assassination of the Governor coming in reading accounts of the weeks and months prior.

The Secretary abused the most influential Timor kings, including the Lucas Barreto, the King of Motael, who wrote

Having gone to the government offices on the 23rd of February of this year, to request that the interim Secretary Private Francisco Ferreira release two moors under my jurisdiction who were prisoners for two weeks, I arrived in the presence of the said Secretary, made the due greetings and he ordered me to sit and asked me what I wanted? I responded that I had come to ask for the release of the two men that he had ordered prisoner at Sica posto, not responding to this request, he asked if I was the king of the moors to which I responded I’m not king of the moors, but instead of Motael, the moors who come to reside in Dilly are subjects to Motael by quite old custom. He added these words: just because you are King of Motael does not mean I can put you in a yoke [congo], and I’ve put many rulers in the interior in them, and you just because you use a tie around your neck doesn’t mean you can’t fit in the yoke?

Beyond descriptions of the beatings of militiamen, the commander of the moradores José da Cunha, had very graphic allegations of violence and humiliation perpetrated by the Governor. He left these in a letter also found at the Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino:

I have more accusations. That the Governor, requesting a guard detail of militiamen at the Lahane Palace composed of eight soldiers and a corporal, substituted weekly, these soldiers were not considered a guard detail but as servants to carry around the Governor in a litter [...] prodding them up and down to make them run like horses in line. The governor said, run horse militiamen. If the soldiers were tired they took more from the whip he carried in hand. I must expose that these soldiers also served to bring firewood and water to the kitchen of the Governor [...] Finally I have to expose the following: these soldiers of the Lahane Palace were forced by the Governor to bring women to the Palace, if in the case they could not bring them, they are punished by whipping delivered by the hands of the Governor himself and ordered to empty his bed pan.

So the episode of the assassination of the Governor (who seems to have been mistaken for the Interim Secretary by an angry mob) seems to have occurred against a backdrop of egregious abuse of power, even by colonial standards. The most immediate causes were the beatings of the militiamen over the slaughter of Ana Cunha’s pigs (see Part 1) — and the Govenor’s arrogant refusal to hear the arguments of Da Cunha to discipline the Interim Secretary.

According to Da Cunha, following the beatings of his men, he went alone to complain to the Governor. He was dismissed. Then he went to Lahane to protest with the other militia commanders, the Governor reacted dismissively

On the third of the current month I ordered a meeting of the officials of the detail of militiamen under my command to accompany me to Lahane Palace to ask for justice or action by the Governor regarding the beating of official Sebastião Pinheiro, which we did and went to the Palace to meet the Governor. He firstly asked us if the 100 soldiers were ready [for the vassalage ceremony].

I responded they are ready at the posto, Your Excellency.

The Governor asked if I wanted to say something.

I said Yes, Sir, I come with my officials to petition to Your Excellence for justice for the beating of the official.

To which the Governor responded before all, have You Sir brought all of these officials here to scare me? Look, get out of here, right away, leave, and the Governor entered the Palace without saying another word.

I turned to the officials and said, it’s better we leave because here there will be no measures taken and no justice.

Barreto, the King of Motael, described the same scene, for which he was present

Seeing this [our request], exalted by his excitement, said, “Sir Cunha: [illegible] I am not a boy to come with your forces to scare me, I told you yesterday that I will do justice when I want to, so for now there is no justice, you sirs are of bad humour and I even more so, retreat from here now,” he said three times these words, entered his room and did not come out.

It is important to note that in February 1887, Dili was playing host to a number of militia forces, most especially the militia of Maubara. You’ll recall Maubara was a coastal kingdom traded from the Dutch for Flores Island in 1859, which had been rebellious and refused to come into the Portuguese fold for the decades prior. The city was preparing for a ceremony of the vassalagem, or vassalage (submission), of Maubara. (This was not the first ceremony of the sort.) It is not clear how this Maubara presence affected the course of events.

In any case, Da Cunha says that within an hour of the return of his group to Dili, he heard the Governor was dead. And that the violence was perpetrated by a “brutish” crowd who “lost respect.”

The more I travel to post-colonial places and think about even the race politics in my city in America, the more I come to the conclusion that if you would like to understand the present, don’t stop studying the past until you’ve reached the great-grandparents. Just a word to encourage potential Timorese historians: these letters are just some of many written by Timorese kings available in Portuguese archives. [All translations and transcriptions and their errors are mine.]

One of the most dramatic episodes of colonial history in Portuguese Timor was most definitely the assassination of Governor Lacerda Maia in Dili in 1887. He was allegedly brought down with daggers while on horseback by moradores, or Timorese militia, and torn to pieces on the spot.

He appeared in public the day of his death with little security. This after tensions with the King of Motael and the moradores camped out in Dili. The moradores were upset about a number of issues, but most of all what they perceived to be abuse of power and disrespect by the Governor’s Secretary. There were clearly other reasons why the moradores were angry that day, moreover, many were gathered from the Western kingdoms in Dili. (Sound eerily familiar?) The King of Motael was accused, and sent into exile, for having stirred up the crowds and encouraged Lacerda Maia’s public demise. I believe he was later exonerated.

Father Teixeira, in a footnote in his invaluable Macau e a Diocese de Timor (1974), transcribed the story as told by Hermengildo Martins, son of the ruler of Ermera. Central to his version of the story is Ana Eduarda, the illegitimate daughter of Portuguese commander Duarte Leão Cabreira, who put down revolts in the 1860s across Timor. [My translation]

Private Francisco Ferreira, in the capacity of commander of the city of Dili — major of the town — in the pictoresque language of the Timorese, prohibited pigs from wandering the streets. Ana Eduarda, not knowing the edict or supposing that her situation as companion of the Private exempted her from his decision, let her pigs circulate in the street. The militia, following the received orders, slaughtered the swine. Ana was indignant [...] and when the Private arrived home from the Governor’s residence she told him what had happened; he then called the officials of the militia and chastised them bitterly, shouting that the ban did not apply to Ana’s pigs. Submissively, they retorted that they had merely followed the orders that he himself had given. Ana had transgressed them, hence their action taken.

Then the Private lowered to insults, calling them dogs. The officials retreated, and, in the quartel of the militia, they met, resolving, at the first opportunity, to liquidate him. Meanwhile, denunciations made it to the Private that they were preparing an attack on the morning of the 3rd. On this day, feigning sickness, the Private did not appear at the Residence. The Governor, who knew nothing, descended to Dili. At the militia post, situated where the tanks of Balide are today, he came across a large gathering of people who struck at him with daggers.

Surprised by the attack — that all indications were had also been prepared for the Secretary — Lacerda Maia continued on his way to town, and, upon arriving to where the subdelegation of health is today, there was another attack, in which the Governor succumbed, victim — it seems — to errors unknown to him. He fell in front of the place that is today the establishment of merchant Lai Juman.

One of the most fascinating things about this moment is that Timorese voices are still ‘audible.’ In Part 2, I will quote from the letter of the King of Motael, who left his extensive written testimony, proclaiming his innocence and detailing a much longer list of colonial abuses. The letter, found at the Arquivo Histórico Ultramarino, sheds much light on the colonial dynamics of the time.

Let’s talk about the best of all possible scenarios.

Obvious start: Ramos-Horta is welcomed home by all Timorese, including the political elite. A spirit of national unity allows for an immediate consensus on security-sector reform, and Timorese recognize that if the UN could not even run into gunfire to fetch their bleeding President, it cannot guarantee security even in the short term.

Next, after a period of reflection, and diligence by the media and the judiciary to main innocence until proven guilt, the rest of Reinado’s men hand themselves over to Timorese authorities. They are tried in a timely manner, and afforded a vigorous and capable defense, and the nation follows over the mass media. The trial gives the accused petitioners the chance to air their motives and point of view, and is cathartic for many of Reinado’s supporters.

The government and WFP continue food aid or work schemes to the most vulnerable IDPs in Dili, and material and logistical support is brought in to rebuild houses. Land conflicts are aired and addressed at the suco level with support from national institutions. People leave the camps.

The government and international institutions finally give due attention to the issue of food security and its relation to conflict in Timor. Government looks to buy and market as much surplus rice as possible, and builds a store of Timorese rice for emergencies.

The opposition parties invest in Parliament as the most important venue to challenge the government and build democractic institutions, but stop making unfounded insinuations and barbed comments in press conferences and blogs.

After a period of stability in the security sector, Timor asks the ISF to leave.

Basically, the best of all possible scenarios is to look at how Timor can be self-sufficient, or independent. It is Timorese institutions that will guarantee this. Ramos-Horta knew this when he Timorized his security team, even though it cost him dearly. The ISF is not a solution, even to catching the ‘rebels’ on the run. UN Police are not a solution to Dili’s instability. WFP is not a solution to Timor’s food security problems. Blogs and the international media are not places for dialogue — the Timorese parliament is.

The vast majority of Timorese live by an ethic of self-sufficiency. They have to for survival. I would argue the political economy of aid and peacekeeping in Dili has severely warped the elite’s notion of “independence.”

With the shocking turn of events in East Timor, I feel compelled to make a couple of comments.

Firstly, around Alfredo Reinado’s significance on the internet. A number of Australian journalist interviews and even an Indonesian talkshow interview are available on the web. But a couple of weeks back, a video was posted on Youtube of Reinado speaking in (rather incoherent) English. His purpose was to turn the blame on Xanana. To expose his anger and sense of betrayal, and assert his continuing importance. He says menacingly, “There is no guarantee after this New Year.” He warns foreign investors against coming to Timor. This video was filmed with professional-type attention to sound, with a conspicuous microphone. This video is significant because it appears to be his initiative. This is what the poster, Tatolivideo, wrote:

Alfredo Reinado is a former army major of Timor-Leste’s defence force, the F-FDTL. In mid 2006 he mutinied and began a campaign of terror against Timor-Leste and its democratically elected government. Evidence has been mounting eversince that Reinado’s actions araised from a conspiracy by the then president, Mr. Jose Alexandre Gusmao “Xanana” and his allies to topple the FRETILIN government. In this video Reinado reveals that the author of the violence was none other than Mr. Gusmao himself, who was recently appointed prime minister despite his own political party coming second at the national elections. This video has been shot by an annonymous film maker and is widely available Timor-Leste. The TVTL, the only television service and is run by the state and by Gusmao loyalists, has refused to air this video.

The internet appears to be important in relation to the image and “reality” of Alfredo to a certain group. On this site, hits peaked over the last couple of days, the majority surfed their way here with search engines, looking for “Alfredo Reinado.” Many of the search phrases indicate people wanted to see a photo of Alfredo Reinado’s dead body on the pavement in front of Ramos Horta’s house. (Which was shown to reporters in Timor and featured prominently and with no warning on Portuguese news broadcasts, and is available via Lusa news agency.)

Secondly, I would like to remind that an article written a year ago about the connection between IDPs, rice rations, and Reinado is very relevant to the current situation. Kammen and Hayati suggest a connection between the rice crisis of February 2007 and Reinado:

In late February, individuals reported to be in regular contact with Reinado organized a demonstration about the shortage of rice and called for people from the western districts to come into Dili for a major rally.

They suggest that rice plays a major role in the continuation of the crize.

What is clear is that the rice shortage is neither a conspiracy intended to discredit the government nor a plan by the government to win the upcoming 2007 election. Instead, all indications are that the Ministry of Development’s food security program has involved a lack of transparency (if not outright corruption), that the state lacks the capacity to channel rice to the population in an equitable and efficient manner, and that by taking rice off the market government purchases may in fact be the primary cause of the crisis.

It seems in looking at rice, there is a greater issue of import and marketing of rice on the markets, and there is the issue of the rice rations provided to IDPs by WFP and the government. The two are clearly connected, but I have yet to see a model explaining how massive feeding programmes affect urban food markets in Timor. I started by reading up on WFP’s change of heart about feeding the entire IDP population.

WFP’s findings from recent studies (see links on the right) indicate that when looking at the two groups as a whole, IDPs are not any more vulnerable to food insecurity than those residing in their homes in Dili. This provided the justification it needed to decide to cut food rations in half for Dili IDPs, which officially occurred on February 4. (Within the IDP group, there are vulnerable subsets, and it appears that the government and WFP have plans to provide targeted assistance.)

On the issue of importation/marketing and government emergency supplies of rice, I have to find out more. I will be reading much more on the issue of urban food security and the interplay with the petitioners and Reinado. But clearly the two remained linked, but most likely not directly.

I’ve decided to suspend this blog until the “crize” is over, or until I actually return to Timor. Here’s to hoping that both happen before the end of 2007.

Over’n'out

Mak ne’e deit

The Timorese political elite continues to measure its words in the public sphere. With the exception of a couple of statements, the two sides have refrained from severe ad-hominem attacks.

Instead I was surprised to see that the crize is to blame for the lack of government in East Timor. (Quoting Lasama: “Our country is still in a crisis that has not yet ended, so to all political leaders: let us settle everything through mutual dialogue, through the law and the constitution.”)

And yet it is not the constitution that is the concern of most of the decision makers. Instead it is the threat or fear of some unbridled power of the streets or civil conflict. The letter of the law, in this atmosphere, is entirely manipulable. And in the end, the law seems to leave the key decision up to one person, the President. I would argue it’s not merely the inadequacy of the Timorese political system, or the backdrop civil instability, that is extenuating the stalemate.

I believe the crize is the Timorese word for Agamben’s definition of the “state of exception” — a pretext for elected officials to disrespect citizens’ most basic rights and begin to wipe away the rule of law. In the US it’s the “War on Terror.” In Timor, it’s the crize.

I can appreciate that the conflict between police and armed forces of 2006 constituted a national security crisis. And that the fugitive Alfredo made the situation more dire. But these two elements have been calmed. (True, law and order in Dili is still a big problem. But does that alone signify a continuation of last year’s national security crisis?)

In fact, if there is any crisis for the people of Timor, it’s that key politicians do not have the vision to compromise and instead blame some undefined, extended “crisis” for the nation’s problems. Any commitment decision-makers had formed over the past 5 years to laws, structures and institutions seems to be in the balance.

Without getting too post-structuralist here, I think it’s fair to say that the word “crisis” has taken on a life of its own in Timor. I noticed this during my visit in 2006.

I’m not going to take sides here because I do not find that at all helpful or called for.

But what I do think is clear, even from far away, is that there are two groups of leaders (Fretilin old-guard/Maputo crew vs. Xanana and Mário Carrascalão) who are trying to hold on. Both sides have maintained in public that there is little room for face-saving.

It’s either us or total boycott.

Fretilin has said it openly, repeatedly. The only thing stopping AMP from saying this more openly is that they actually do fear reprisals from Fretilin supporters and from the international community.

It’s either us or total boycott.

It sent chills when I was recently reminded of what happened in Ethiopia in 2005 when the opposition began a similar boycott…

USAID’s latest press release caught my attention. It is about funding for three Timorese hortaculturalists to visit Bali to learn about supply-storage and distribution issues with “high value” vegetable production.

Among other things, it states that Timor imports over 35 tons of foreign fruit and vegetables a month. I imagine 34 tons of this is consumed by the expat community. Perhaps part of the project could be seeing how to increase the Timorese middle class’ own consumption of these exotic vegetables.

The rationale behind the project is good — corner that internal market for fruit and veg. But how ’sustainable’ is this idea? When UNMIT inevitably shrinks down again, and the NGO presence with it… Recalling that the decline in Timor’s GDP after UNTAET/UNMISET was directly correlated to the shrinkage of the international presence. According to the ABD: “The latest official projections are for a decline in GDP over FY2004 (12 months ended 30 June 2004) and again in FY2005, on the basis of the continued winding-down of the operations of the UN and the peacekeeping forces …”

When the dust settles from these crisis months/years, Timor will be back to the basic questions. Beyond the Timor Gap, there is the even longer-term issue: how to manage its economy so that people have sustainable rural livelihoods and so that there are some jobs in services and light industry?

While living there, value-added products Timor could export kept coming to mind. Timor has to create niches for export based on cultural appeal for the “conscious consumer.” Let the market research in Australia begin. (If this has started I would love to hear about it!)

Beer — I know it’s been tried, but not with the right model. A high-end, export-only beer for Australian and European market.

Goat cheese – I was told the bibis cannot produce enough milk. Then there are cold storage issues. But people said this about the cows at Fuiloro, and after sustained investment and technical input the cows provide milk for tens of thousands of school kids. Would Australians be interested in Timorese goat cheese?

Ai-manas hot sauce — Has gained fame the world over with informal ‘export’ by expats living in Timor. My mouth waters just thinking about the ai-manas I bought last year in Maubisse. Portuguese piri-piri chicken has been branded, why not ai-manas?

Rattan furniture/home decorations — I know Timor’s neighbors make this stuff. But Timor could seek out a particular niche. According to Wallpaper magazine, rattan furniture is back. Japanese vendors are hyping higher-end accessories.

Sandalwood rosaries — Sounds silly, huh? But I wonder where the majority of the world’s rosaries come from. A cursory Google search indicates: China, where Catholicism is in a bad way! The Vatican could give Timor a little edge in the competition. Cash in on the Catholic connection!

Hi-end outdoor gear with clever branding — Import basically everything from mainland you-know-where, stitch some pieces together and brand it in a really cool way, maybe with an allusion to Falintil or Timorese hard-as-nails mountain people. Build the brand in the Australian market.

I can just see myself sitting on a lovely Timorese rattan chair, wearing a Falintil-approved windbreaker, eating Timorese goat-cheese with a touch of ai-manas, packing up my made-in-Baucau sandalwood rosary to send to a pious relative and sipping on a high-end Timorese beer.

Oh, and I will be reading a brochure about visiting Konis Santana National Park.

I am enjoying reading Richard Lloyd Parry’s In the Time of Madness, which is about Indonesia and East Timor in 1998-99. He has a simple, no-nonsense style with minimal ego. (Or at least not big as one might expect from hotshot correspondent.)

One passage in particular struck me. After a visit to the church in Liquiça in June 1999, the journalists and their fixer are told to leave by the sacred church attendants. The scars of the April massacre were visible in spite of the Indonesian whitewash. The town was full of refugees and red and white flags.

The passage reveals the power of living without why:

We climbed into the car and drove away from the church and towards the west. Within five minutes Liquisa was behind us, and we were back on the empty road in a landscape of scrubby grass and open-sided huts.

“No one will talk,” said Fernão. “The driver wants to go back.”

Then a man became visible on the road in front of us, silhouetted against the afternoon sky. He was walking towards Liquisa with the sun behind him, and a large and awkwardly shaped branch was balanced on his shoulders. He walked very slowly towards us and, as he passed the car, Fernão spoke to him through the open window. He looked ahead and behind him, but the road was empty. Carefully, he laid down his branch and climbed into the car.

He was from a village called Hatoguesi in the hills above Liquisa, and he had been here for two months with his wife, his five children and all his neighbors. The militia arrived in Hatoguesi one day and ordered them to leave. They burned a few houses, shot several cattle and buffaloes, and lamed a horse. There wasn’t much of an argument.

[He said], “[The militia] say ‘If you vote for independence then, when the Western people go back to their countries, we will come and finish you off.’ They say the Western people are only staying for two months, and when they are gone, we will be finished.”

“And what do you want? Independence or autonomy?”

“Independence,” he said. “We all do.”

[...]

Fernão mouthed to me we must go.

I said to the man, “Why do you support independence?”

Fernão translated, and the answer came immediately back. “He says ‘Yes, I support independence.’”

“Yes, but why does he support independence?”

Fernão put the question again, more elaborately.

“He says that all the people in the village support Falintil and support independence.”

“But why?”

Fernão began speaking again, a lengthy, patient explanation. The man nodded, but he was frowning and he kept interrupting, as if what Fernão was saying made no sense. Soon the interview had turned into a conversation, and the two were first smiling, then chuckling and finally laughing out loud. For the question was absurd. Why independence? There was no answer. It was like questioning a natural drive: why breathe, why eat, why marry? Without independence, Timorese were like men without air or rice or women.

I was surprised to find, a couple of years ago, that the Portuguese administration of Timor struggled with urban unemployment long before I had imagined. The question of how to keep Dili safe from “indigenous who had no honest means of subsistence” arises in the Boletim Oficial de Timor in 1938.

An ‘edital’ from that year reveals that many Timorese were coming to the city in hope of finding work, and unable to places, according to the Administration, they were “induced to the practice of robbery.”

To that end, the Administrator of Dili prohibited Timorese from outside of Dili to take up positions without prior knowledge of the government. Instead it tried to require employers of Timorese labor from outside of Dili to procure this labor through the administration. Salaries were also to be paid via the Portuguese administration.

Whether this actually occurred in practice is unclear, but it shows that the Portuguese colonial administration made early attempts at controlling movement and the salaried economy well before Dili was as large as it is today.

I know the Indonesian administration tried to control movement in and out of Dili, often to no avail. It would be interesting to look at issues of migration and urbanization in Dili, starting before World War II and continue to the present, putting the hyped “gang violence” issue into greater perspective.

Xavier was the first.

In one of its last acts, the first Timorese parliament, dominated by some of his long-time foes, finally decided to face up to the facts: Xavier was the first President of Timor-Leste. He deserves to be officially recognized as such, with all of the symbolic and humble material privileges that may bring.

In speaking to Lusa, Xavier offered more of his typical wily humor, reporting that Xanana and Ramos Horta called him today. “They congratulated me, but it’s not even my birthday today. I guess they have something to offer me anyways.” Clearly, Xavier is aware of the power he will yield in an eventual unity or coalition government.

He went on to say, “It’s too bad this had to come so late, but thanks to everybody. I still have one or two months to go back home and enjoy what is to come. Even if it’s just eating potatoes.”

I have written about him in various different moments on this blog.

I think appreciating Xavier is key to understanding East Timor as a nation. The man is fascinating, is articulate in many languages, entirely approachable, and dare I say, a living national treasure. (And it’s rare I can say that about people who have endorsed marrying off teenage girls!)

If I had the time, I would be on his front porch tomorrow to ask about writing his biography.

(photo from AP)

The Timorese constitution, and its vagueness in the Portuguese language, is causing a lot of consternation in Dili. According to arguments by José da Teixeira and Sahe da Silva, the two spokesman for Fretilin, they believe the President is obligated to call on the party with the ‘most-voted’ to form government first. The phrase ‘most-voted’ does indeed figure prominently in Section 106 which states

O Primeiro-Ministro é indigitado pelo partido mais votado ou pela aliança de partidos com maioria parlamentar e nomeado pelo Presidente da República, ouvidos os partidos políticos representados no Parlamento Nacional.

The official English translation, which is NOT a direct, word-for-word translation, but instead captures the spirit and practice of this form of government:

The Prime Minister shall be designated by the political party or alliance of political parties with parliamentary majority and shall be appointed by the President of the Republic, after consultation with the political parties sitting in the National Parliament.

So the English translation is specific, stating that either option (party or alliance of parties) must have a parliamentary majority. This is not the case in the Portuguese version.

A Portuguese commentator on the ETAN Timor list reminds that Portugal’s most famous Prime Minister, Mário Soares, took office after his party won only 34% of the vote in 1976. But this only occurred because none of the losing parties were willing to enter into coalition with each other. (The parallels between that election and this one would make an interesting post of its own.)

Sahe and Teixeira also point out that the constitution refers to the possibility of a coalition of parties forming government if they are recognized before the vote. They refer to this as a ‘pre-election’ coalition. Their argument appears to have some validity, but is not specifically set out by the constitution itself. And most observers from European parliamentary democracies would point out that post-election horse-trading and coalition-making is a vital feature of this form of representative democracy.

Xanana appears to be drawing together a coalition of the major opposition parties. The main sticking point was La Sama and the Partido Democrático, who feel undercut by the rapid organization of CNRT, a party which took away a lot of the PD’s support base.

La Sama has been villified, ridiculed and sidelined for much of the past couple of years by the ruling party. He also has good reasons to want to stymie Fretilin. Yet interestingly, in these past few days, he drew his power from his hesitance to align with Fretilin OR a potential CNRT-ASDT-PSD coalition.

If he had publicly agreed to allow for a Fretilin government, and agreed to work with them on passing a National Budget, he would have supported the (rather eccentric) Teixeira/Da Silva argument that a Fretilin government is a legal and a pragmatic option.

Indications are, however, that he has agreed to ‘coalesce’ into a CNRT-ASDT-PSD coalition. Yet for all of the reasons I have stated above about rivalries and potential shifting political groupings, I fear that this coalition is starting from a weak footing. And the Fretilin’s questioning of the constitutional legitimacy of a Presidential ‘invitation’ to this coalition lingers.

Things are looking about as clear as a the water in a Caicoli kangkung field at the moment.

Congratulations to the people of East Timor, who demanded maturity and pragmatism of their leaders with this parliamentary election result. Now it’s up to the political elite to deliver.

Fernanda Borges, ex-Minister of Finance under UNTAET and founder of PUN, Partido de Unidade Nacional, will quite possibly sit in the next session of Parliament.

Of the new ‘mini-parties’ PUN is ahead of the pack. The party is strong in Ermera and Bobanaro and reportedly enjoys some support from Colimau 2000, a disaffected cult-like group in those districts.

In Ermera, a highly populated district with a large electorate, her party was polling 20+% with over half of votes counted. If the trend continues over the last 100,000 vote yet to be counted, Ermera alone will deliver her a seat. PUN also polled well in Bobanaro. (It should be noted that Bobanaro showed significantly lower voter turnout than any other district: only 60% of the electorate voted.)

PUN, according to the Australian Labour Party’s political party briefing, is a center-right party which advocates minimal government intervention in the market. It upholds what it deems to be Christian values. Borges resigned from the UNTAET-era cabinet because of concerns over good governance and, quoting her resignation letter, over “lack of transparency in developing policy.” She is keen on extending basic services to rural areas and implementing pre-natal and maternal health programs.

If elected, she will be one of the strongest female voices in parliament. Additionally, the result is increasingly pointing towards a coalition in government and so one or more seats could provide significant bargaining power to PUN.

L7’s UNDERTIM and the monarchists of PPT-KOTA may also gain a seat, saving them from oblivion.

The other mini-parties such as Abílio Araujo’s PNT, João Saldanha’s Republican Party, the Socialists, and the Christian Democrats did not fare as well. It will be interesting to see what is next for them.

The success of PUN may indicate the importance of ties to highly populated areas for small parties, but it may also indicate that voters across Timor are starting to more than ever feel free to vote their conscience. And perhaps PUN and Borges simply appealed more to the electorate.