My last election post

[April 15 update: I've added poster images, for those who cannot conjure the real people]

These have been on my mind for a while now. Some of them were suggested to me by folks in Dili. Watch me get banned for life for this one… (Although I guess my “The Shaft” comparison is favorable.)

Avelino Coelho ::::: Papa Smurf (this link is also relevant!)

João Carrascalão ::::: Toad of Toad Hall

Lasama ::::: The Grinch

Lu Olo ::::: The Shaft

Manuel Tilman ::::: Chicken Little

Ramos Horta ::::: [Monty Python's] The Bishop (video)

Xavier ::::: Yoda

Lucia Lobato ::::: in making this list I realize how many of our pop culture references are male. Sigh. Suggestions?

And then the most pressing question of all, which of these “characters” would make the best Head of State?

Cuba: Para, por amor?

I have always loved the song ”Cuba Va,” as interpreted by Sílvio Rodriguez. At the risk of insulting, I will make the common comparison: Sílvio is the Latin Bob Dylan. This lyric is particularly relevant:

Del amor estamos hablando 
Por amor estamos haciendo
Por amor se está hasta matando 
Para, por amor seguir trabajando.

It’s of love we are speaking 
It’s for love that we are doing
It’s for love that people are even killing
For and with love keep working.

Sílvio is a complicated figure, the “killing” line steers us right to the heart of the matter. He supported the “struggle” from the beginning. His work is a tribute to the revolutionary Cuba. In recent years, when he could have solidified a more historically ”consensual” position, he persisted in defending Fidel, his imprisonment of outspoken people. He is also a member of Cuban parliament.

When can we except art and intervention for its face-value? That it is made “for and with love”? It is difficult to avoid all that is written between the lines of this “work.” And yet…

I walked past the Cuban embassy in Dili during my last stay. They had opened up shop in Timor later than many countries.

In 2005, the Timorese Ministry of Health accepted the offer of 300 Cuban doctors. The first wave arrived in the subdistricts in early 2006. (About the same number of Timorese students were given scholarships to study medicine in Cuba.) On face value, this offer was a blessing for a country that could only count on a couple of dozen doctors of its own.

Yet, as things have worked out, the Cuban presence has caused mistrust and controversy in many subdistricts.  Across the country in late 2006, from the West to the East (which still supports the Fretilin government to a greater degree) I heard people telling me they distrusted the Cubans. Vicious rumors had spread that they killed babies. From Lautem to Manufahi, without prompting people told me they isolated themselves more than other malais. They show only disdain for us was a common refrain. Many people confessed that they were much less likely to seek help at the health postos now that there were Cubans there. Curiously, one Doctor “defected” in early 2006.

There is clearly a link between the anti-communist rhetoric of anti-government groups and this mistrust of the Cubans. Perhaps disgruntled Timorese nurses and doctors who felt unfairly subordinated to these doctors had a role in their demonizing.

In Avante! the Portuguese Communist party magazine, it was reported that Cuba will be collaborating with the Timorese government in a literacy campaign which uses mass media, along the lines of “Yo Sí Puedo.” The Cuban government claims that this program had great long-term results in Angola and Cape Verde. The Cubans had a much longer history of intervention in these countries.

It would be ideal if Timor could act as a “non-aligned” country, picking and choosing assistance based on need alone. I believe this is the vision of Fretilin. But a large part of the population seems caught up in antiquated Cold War rhetoric, which I believe has been consistently encouraged by certain priests and opportunist politicians. The confrontation between the Church and the government in 2004 only further aggravated the situation.

The question is, at this juncture, how and if the Cuban presence can be depoliticized in Timor, and if this new literacy program can be accepted on its face-value.

Thunder

Kabulaki taruló [tarutu]
Fera rai Díli
Rai Díli sala sa
Fera rai Díli

Portuguese poet Alberto Osório de Castro transcribed verses he overheard in Dili during a stay in Timor from 1909-10. He implies they were a response to the sound of thunder. He translated the meaning as “Os trovões de Kabulaki deitam abaixo Díli. Que cuplas tem Díli para ir a terra?”

He translates the “sa” as a question form. Luis Costa (1999) points out that sa can be an emphatic particle used in company of friends and family. And the lack of conjugation in Tetum does not help. Perhaps the second fera rai is in fact the imperative?

In English, one interpretation could be ”Kablaki’s thunder lays Dili to waste. Dili is guilty, lay it to waste.”

These words at the time seemed prophetic, as Osório de Castro observed in his A Ilha Verde e Vermelha de Timor, it was not even a year after he left that Boaventura challenged Portuguese authority on the island.

Here Kablaki, the home of spirits, dominates Dili. This can be read as a Timorese fantasy version of colonialism, that somehow control of Timor was never cededed to the Portuguese. The equilibrium between fragile, exterior political power and the eternal power of the mountains is key to the “Timorese” world view.

The question of the local versus the center, the generalized feeling of imbalance in Timor between them, will be decisive in the elections. (Observers, don’t dally in Dili!)

Perhaps the political emphasis of guerrilla credibility (Mau Huno, L7, Lu Olo) is less about the struggle and more about the “local.” Who in government can pretend to represent Kablaki?

Some, malais and Dili elite alike, would scoff at the supersticious and “feudal” backwardness of the mountains.

Elizabeth Traube’s fascinating new paper points to this tension between national identity and a need for local-national equilibrium. The vast majority of Timorese, who live in isolated rural communities believe the ”wages of the nation” must be paid to the mountains, and the people and spirits who reside there. The issue of unresolved deaths and the need to “pay” for these deaths looms large. Then, some deaths were paid for and the dead are still alive.

I can only hope that the Presidential candidates are not distracted by Alfredo, and that the realize the real power of Kablaki. The alternative? Thunder. Fera rai Díli. 

The war machine

Xanana. Lu Olo. (Alfredo.) Warrior-hero nomads.

Last year after reading A Dignidade, José Mattoso’s book about Konis Santana, I returned to a dizzying work of French philosopher Gilles Deleuze and psychoanalyist Felix Guattari.

My first encounter with Nomadology: The War Machine was in a class about bedouin literature. I’m not sure I had any idea what these guys were getting at.

Deleuze and Guattari, in a compact, sensorily challenging work attempt to provoke the reader to consider how a military and government can co-exist. It may seem like a crazy question. In few places in the world does one exist entirely without the other.

But militaries often developed outside of the state (i.e. medieval knights). D&G’s preoccupation is how the state apparatus can absorb a “nomadic” military order, often with its roots entirely outside of permanent, codified state structures. They argue the war machine can be somewhat co-opted by the State, but will always maintain its “externality.”

President Xanana Gusmão, himself an ex-nomad warrior, was described recently by Lusa wire service as failing to use both his powers as President and his charisma as ex-leader of the resistance. He was quoted as saying,

Part of our society lost its morals, suddenly. It’s an anarchy of mentality. It is not a question of generations.

The people must reject violence once and for all… They no longer fear law and order.

Only a few weeks prior, Xanana mocked Alfredo, asking the Timorese people who was the real war hero, or asua’in.

Beyond Xanana’s admitted confusion over his role, the fight over party symbols on the Presidential ballot has everything to do with this persistent equivalence between the war machine and the ruling party and the State.

It is no coincidence that Lu Olo conducted his first campaign events in his home Ossu, near where he spent the early years of the military resistance to Indonesia. Then he went to Lospalos, the home of a number of FALINTIL heroes, and most recently to Laclubar where he was based for nearly ten years.

The campaign photo is quite rare, as Lu Olo is usually pictured in his Falintil days with pen and not the gun. He was, of course, a secretary and commissar.

Campaigning in Baucau in 2001, ABC quotes Lu Olo

Even to see a [military] uniform makes me sick. Seeing a rifle makes me want to throw it away. I’m tired of fighting. Fretilin wants peace and stability … to build love, to move forward.

Much of the colonial literature seems to indicate that at least in the nineteenth century asua’in, or warrior-heroes, were in many ways like medieval knights. They were convened at war times, and given special privileges and statute within society, but were not considered to possess political power per se.

One of my more interesting informants recently told me that his great-great-great-great grandfather was a hero who was given the liurai‘s daughter’s hand in marriage for his exploits. It was through marriage alliance that a warrior-hero could come to exercise political power. Marriage was a way of turning the nomad into the State, but never the reverse.

Many remarked on the significance of Lu Olo’s wedding in 2002 to a young woman from Atauro (shortly after Taur Matan Ruak, ex-guerrilla, head of the Armed Forces, married Isabel Ferreira Guterres). Even after his marriage, his declarations in 2001, and years of experience in Parliament, why is it that Lu Olo must be portrayed as the warrior?

What happens when the State sees itself as a sedentary extension of the war machine? The State then becomes exterior to its own existence? Or more frighteningly, in this situation, is there a State at all?

(counter)insurgency

Timorese: Here is a photo of your good Australian friends that was taken when they helped you combat the cruel Japanese. [...]

In this year of 1944, the Japanese have been defeated in all of the battles — whether on land, in the air or at sea.

Why is this happening? — Because America, England, and Australia have more arms, ships and planes. When Japan launched this war it could triumph in the first battles because we weren’t ready for it. But, now, we are strong.

Timorese, have patience. All of New Guinea was taken back from the Japanese. Your turn will come.

Paint against the machine

  open book_liquica 

This photo is by “maleye” or “post.” a photographer who has accumulated an impressive collection of images from around East Timor. This one is part of the “graffiti” collection, which “maleye” says will be featured in a forthcoming publication… Waiting for details. Please take a moment to browse the photos. Many are related to the gang violence, youth rage and regional divisions which boiled over in 2006.

Strutting his stuff

Alfredo appears to be playing tricks with his appearance. In Maubisse, a year ago, he was sporting the Marine look, the “high and tight” cut. Then the third-world insurgent-hero goatee. Recently a Fretilin blogger accused him of immitating a Moluccan nationalist with an old-fashioned mustache. The Australian reporters who met him after two days walk in the middle of the night revealed today he is back to the goatee. He seems to put a lot into appearances. I guess he knows they are quite important. In Timor, speed and strength cannot always win the fight.

Quoting from orgs. Cristiano da Costa, Aureo da Costa Guterres, Justino Lopes (2006) Exploring Makassae Culture. Instituto Católico para Formação de Professores Baucau, Baucau:

Cock fighting is a gambling event of the ‘real world’ but the process for thegame to take place is associated with the ‘world of the imagination.’ It always involves supersticious practices and belief in the cock feathers, not the skill and the strength of the cocks. The gamblers at the cock-fighting events believe that the asa-namu ‘the feathers’ give strength to the cock to determine the fate of the game.

There are number of feathers commonly known such as buree, dala, bakasa, kalabu imiri, butiri. Accordingly each of the main feathers is sub-divided again in more than 20 of sub-feathers such as: Tafui, Teki, Teki miat, Teki luru mia, Teki fa’uk, Fa’u, Fa’u kaidawa, Temo, Dala Lairisa, Dala Filas, Sabu, Seri, Seri gaba (seri yellow), seri metan (seri black), Meluk, Sabu meluk, Sabu lurumia, and so on.

Before the ‘meeting of the minds’ between the two parties to fight their cocks, skilled cock-fighters will examine the colours of the feathers, the eyes, claw, beaks and as well as the length of time for the fight must be right for both side, before betting starts. If the two contending parties agree on all of these things, then the cock-gamblers on both sides begin to place tara which is a sharp blade, like small knife known as tara, in one foot of each of the two cocks. After the blades are attached the watchers and bettors must leave the circular fighting-ground and only two people, acting as ‘referees’ and managers of the fight, are allowed inside. Many people attend these fights that are held regularly in towns and villages throughout the Makassae region.

The different types of cock feathers and the skilled cock-fighting gamblers who read, understand and foresee the cocks’ fate are at the core of the cock fighting tradition. Those that read feathers are able to distinguish and name the different cocks may also be able to correctly match a cock against its opponent and name the best time for the fight. For example tafui is the kind of cock with red feathers, and feet and beak that are are black or white, similar to wild cocks. This type of cock can only be matched against its opponent between five o’clock or between 4-4:30 in the afternoon. This is supposedly the best time because this would be the time when wild cocks are searching for food in the forest, as well as courting the hens… Below is a descriptive list of some cocks with their respective opponents and the time that one particular type could best defeat its opponent.

Buree There are various types of Buree but the ‘buree imiri’ (red buree) can fight with the fauk and dala only. The Buree cocks also have two colours so they are [also] called ‘buree metan’ which means black buree.

Fauk The fauk cock can challenge the dala. The fauk cock is all red.

Meata The meata cocks are best suited to fight at six o’clock in the afternoon against nase or fauk cocks

Sasabu The sasabu can defeat temo and buree metan cocks at any time during the fights

Teki The teki can oppose either meata or, dala or fauk

Dala The Dala can win if he faces temo and funak in any battle at any time

Bakasa The Bakasa is pure white in colour. It can be a winner at midday against any contender

Exploring Makassae Culture is a collaborative ethnography produced by the Marist Teachers College in Baucau. The book costs $10, and is available from the library of the Teachers College, above the market in the old town in Baucau.

Ilha Timor Nia Orasaun

Perhaps the best way to hear the Timorese is to listen to their music. Youtube has a lot of Timorese music videos, but this one by priest Savio Freitas is a prayer for peace. The cynical need not bother.

Buka, la hetan

I am tired of reading malais writing about Timor. Baruk loos.

(The only regular Timorese blogger is Angela Carrascalão, who spent a lot of her life here in Portugal and is treated like a malai in her own country.)

I know there are Timorese with internet access, with digital cameras. I’ve seen you all, at the few free internet points around town: World Bank and Instituto Camões. UNTIL and Xanana Reading Room both offer accessible internet for privileged Timorese. And those with office jobs have access.

So why are all of the blogs written by Timorese either by PD or Fretilin hacks?

Hau husu, please, Timorese people you need to let the world know about yourselves. Tenki fo hatene ba mundu kona-ba imi nia hanoin, imi nia moris. 

I know you are using your precious web time to contact friends and family. But please, we need diaries, we need opinions, images, feelings.

You are letting a bunch of Timorese zealots and misfit malais (myself included) define your country.

Alternatives to “timor pessimism”

In thinking about what Portugal and Australia has in common in relation to Timor at this point in time, I think growing “timor pessimism” is probably the most shared feeling. Take, for example, this comment on Xananarepublic:

So…, what’s new in Dili: The same old sh-t of course! They did it in 1999, in 2002, 2006, and here they go again in 2007. It can’t always be the Indonesian’s fault.

I know we’ve kicked this subject around ’till we’re blue in the face, but…, there is no hope for these people; at least not in my lifetime, and after 4 years in ET, I knoweth of what I speak. (They don’t want your help unless it’s cold hard cash, and don’t even think of advising them how to spend it!) But, being the good friend that I am, I will refrain from saying I TOLD YOU SO!!

Africanists have long lamented the impact of inconsistent and decontextualized reporting from Africa. I believe it was Mamdani who coined the phrase “afro-pessimism,” revealing its origins in the colonial era. So as to trace the sources of “Timor pessimism” let us start in Africa. The contemporary “Portuguese experience” in Africa can be summarized as the following:

• the experience of drawn-out, unpopular colonial wars (1961 – 1974): three concurrent wars proportionately killed more Portuguese than Americans in Vietnam
• the rapid handover of the colonies in 1975 (Guinea Bissau, Angola, Mozambique, Cape Verde and São Tomé)
• only the islands saved themselves from decades of civil conflict. War lasted in Angola until 2002, and in Mozambique until 1992. Portugal de facto supported the “winners” in both cases. Guinea Bissau experienced various coups and is presented as “basket case”
• intermittent reporting on conflict in Guinea Bissau and Cabinda (the disputed enclave of Angola, which possesses huge off-shore oil reserves). Very little reporting on impressive economic growth in Angola and Mozambique

In otherwards, like in most of the West, Africa is presented as one desgraça and miséria after another, the qualitative difference is the trauma wrapped up in the colonial wars. Which brings us to Timor, where there was no war between the colonizer and the colonized.

The Portuguese felt a certain guilt surrounding the “abandonment” of Timor in 1975. This was reflected in the exaggerated outpouring of emotion in 1999, when Portuguese put white sheets outside their windows, marched to the American embassy dressed in white and called for international intervention in Timor in black September. People say it was a civic mobilization not seen in this country since the Revolution in 1975. For more, see Miguel Vale de Almeida‘s essay in An Earth Colored Sea.

Even today, in a montage of images for the 50th anniversary of the state broadcaster, RTP, the last image was of Xanana Gusmão at the independence celebrations in 2002 (incorrectly captioned 2003). Timor, as of today, also left the headlines, can we assume because it is both only “reportable” in small doses.

On the street in Lisbon, the “pulse” is distinctly different. Besides the most politically engaged here, who tend to believe the crisis is result of an Australian imperialist plot, those comment on Timor do so along the lines of “after all we did for them.”

A complacent, middle-aged father whose son did not remember him “marching for Timor” said, when asked about Timor, Já dei para esse peditório (literally, “I already gave to that collection [at mass]“). One woman at my institution said to me, during her undergrad time, she was “unimpressed” by the Timorese scholarship students, they had taken very little advantage of the opportunity given to them. (They are now known as the “Grupo de Trezentos,” I leave their story for another day.)

Things are not well in Timor, it is true. But I also believe this crisis situation is the making of a couple of hundred thugs, the political elite, and is not the will of the vast majority. And we cannot excuse repeated misteps and opportunism of the international community — including the Australian government.

Allow me to step away from my role as biased observer. This post is directed to those who care even when it hurts, some would call us “activists.” To combat Timor pessimism, we need information and perspective. The two come together. Charlie Schiener, a long-time friend of Timor says it best,

One of the most challenging tasks of a victorious anti-colonial struggle is transforming people’s relationship with government from resistance to ownership, and neither international civic educators nor Timorese political leaders have been effective in this area. [...]

Self-determination and independence means that the people of Timor-Leste are responsible for their own destiny. However, solidarity activists, giving personal reparations for our governments’ complicity in their past oppression, continue to stand with the Timorese people. We can offer perspectives and information, advice and support, and work with them in challenging violations of human and political rights.

Timor-Leste’s people will overcome the current crisis, but it will take hard work and time.

Amnesia?

1. October 2, 2006: the UN Independent Commission of Inquiry finds that fugitive Alfredo Alves Reinado should be criminally prosecuted for the killings at Fatu Ahi in May 2006 
2. October: sightings of Alfredo driving in central-western Timor with Australian military vehicles following behind. But if you don’t believe this, then read on…
3. October 25, 2006: The UN flies Bishop Belo to meet Alfredo on a hill in Fohorem
4. November 29, 2006: Australian troops are photographed laughing with Alfredo at a seminar held by Caritas on “Peace and Justice.” Around this same period Alfredo is photographed with a rocket launcher
5. December 22, 2006: Alfredo is flown via UN helicopter to meet with Taur Matan Ruak, commander of the FDTL, at Tasi Tolu

Big guns can’t help you here

Anyone who has driven from Dili to Same knows that the approach to the town is absolutely breathtaking. The craggy rock faces of Mt Kablaki, the sloping valleys, the frighteningly narrow road at points all add to the experience.

A truckdriver friend of mine told me that his Indonesian bosses used to piss their pants with fear when he drove confidently through one mountain pass between Maubisse and Same in the fog.

As I cannot seem to concentrate on my work, and I know that Timor Telcom’s slow dialup connection will prohibit most Dili residents from dabbling on Google Earth, here is a small contribution.

Try to imagine conducting a man-hunt in this landscape.

Mt Kablaki and surrounding terrain (which is inhabited)

Alkatiri was right when he commented that the Australians need Timorese help to successfully capture Alfredo. If that is too politically “risky”– but honestly, what is riskier the Australians entering into a proxy civil conflict, or the Timorese against each other? – then why not the Fijian trackers who were stationed in Bobanaro in 2002-3?

Death-space

I wasn’t going to write this post for a while. But the nasty appearance of rumors on the web surrounding the shooting death of four Timorese in Same, specifically that Australian forces mutilated the bodies, brings me to this: the death-space.

I would not give the time of day to these rumors if I did not think they represent something quite important and often misunderstood about contemporary Timor.

First of all, as a starting point, it’s critical to note the importance of burial rituals for the Timorese even for death of natural causes. But the souls of those killed violently are particularly restless, as they are considered mate mehan literally “the red dead.” At least in the area I recently visited, people told me these souls do not enter the clan house or join the ancestors. But they should remain close by, or else they can haunt the community.

Bodies sent for autopsy to Dili have always provoked distrust and consternation. I noticed, for example, in the March 4 press conference, a journalist (who I presume to be Timorese) asked about the whereabouts of the bodies. STL, the Timorese daily, showed a pronounced interest in the bodies, mate isin, from the Same attack. (Often families hide victims of crime, burying them secretly, to avoid losing the bodies.)

I believe World War II finalized the disintegration of norms and practices “traditionally” structuring violence in Timor. When I mean “traditional” I mean specifically the century prior to 1912, as many believe “head-hunting” was alien to many parts of Timor until invasions from other islands in the pre-modern era.

Anthropologists are (sickly) fascinated with head-hunting, and those who reached any kind of useful conclusions mostly emphasize how regulated and structured the practice normally was supposed to be. In this sense, ceremonies and practices related to head-hunting were presented as ways of “controlling,” or isolating, the most uncontrollable acts of human violence. Timorese have described war of this period as “game-like” — and games have rules.

During the War, from 1941 to 1945, Timorese in certain areas were exposed to a level of multi-directional violence which fell entirely outside of their prior experience of war. Sadism, public torture and executions, sexual enslavement, and beatings “not to teach but to kill” were all entirely alien. Further breaking down pre-existing structures, the Timorese also participated in these acts, whether coersively or voluntarily. Timorese were killing Timorese, Japanese killing Australian, Japanese killing Timorese, Australian killing Japanese, Australian killing Timorese, Japanese killing Portuguese, people of Kissar killing people of Timor, people of West Timor killing those of East Timor… Everything moved too fast, the violence over these three years became the violent house of mirrors that Michael Taussig has called the “space of death” referring to colonial Congo and Colombia.

In this space, the lines between aggressor and victim blur, become refracted and distorted. It’s not a coincidence that one witness to the Australian War Crimes Tribunal reported that the Japanese were so extremely frightened of Timorese witchcraft that they executed those accused of sorcery. Structure, cause and effect, and “controlling” practices simply dissolve.

In this miasma of fear and mistrust, the restless dead begin to wield more power over the living.

Who is represented on this cover of Carlos Cal Brandão’s book (1953, 5th ed) Funu Guerra em Timor? The book is about the Portuguese experience of WWII. The figure is “yellow,” one supposes we are to think the figure is Japanese — but could it be a zombified Portuguese with pith helmet? Who turned this zombie into a zombie? The Japanese? The Timorese?

This death-space was resurrected during the Indonesian occupation, but not to the same multi-directional, dizzying extent.

What is Timor experiencing now? It is too early to tell how this violence is felt and interpreted, but the mate mehan and the sensitivity surrounding violence and burial must be understood in this deeper context.

The lusa and the ocker

As a Timor watcher, whose mother tongue is English, I have to make some comments on the international coverage of the worsening crisis in East Timor. I am currently in Portugal listening to radio, TV and reading their newspapers and wires online.

Over the past year, I have noticed that the Portuguese media’s sympathy for FRETILIN borders on bias. But everybody knows that an “award-winning” Australian television report — full of unproven and irresponsible allegations — deepened the political crisis in Timor in mid 2006.

I am surprised first of all, in the lack of coordination and fact-checking by both Portuguese and Australian media.

In the past couple of days, I have noticed glaring differences between the “Lusa” and “Ocker” versions once again. First, I notice the Australian media’s insistence on conflict and “blaze of glory”-type rhetoric from Alfredo. Portuguese sources reported constructive negotiation, meetings Friday and Saturday between Prosecutor Longuinhos Monteiro and Alfredo. These meetings went unreported in English-speaking media, with Australian journalists kept reporting yesterday’s sensationalist proclamations by Alfredo. This could have something to do with the different sources of each. The Portuguese were speaking to the (dubious) ex-MP Leandro Isaac, and the Australians either directly with Alfredo or with Australian army officials.

What we are asking for, as people who care about Timor, is a non-sensationalist, and fact-checked flow of information, whether it be from Lisbon, Canberra, Dili, or Same. And wouldn’t it be amazing if the Portuguese and Australians could in fact trade information and learn from each other’s strengths and weaknesses?

In the meantime, I’m waiting for UNMIT to put on the flak jackets and release some information, or for Suara Timor Lorosa’e to update the world from a secure laptop somewhere in Dili.

[P.S. Where is Jill Jolliffe? Is she busy with the Balibo Five inquest? She is desperately needed in Timor!]

Seige of Same

I know that Alfredo Reinado is no genius. And I wish he would stop holding Timor hostage to his own vanity and ignorance. Yet I’m willing to bet that he purposefully chose the town Same as his holdout spot, as he is hoping to create an historical parallel with Dom Boaventura.

In August 1912, not far from where Reinado is surrounded, after eight months of resistance, the Portuguese forced Boaventura out of his mountain stronghold. Thousands of men, women and children died.

Quoting Timor historian Katherine Davidson’s 1994 thesis,

Even at this low ebb of the rebels’ fortunes what actually occurred was not a surrender. At 8pm on August 10th, thousands of rebel warriors, including the regulo Boaventura, burst out of their entrenchment “and fled in a great avalanche down the side of the mountain [Leo-Laco]” (quoting Jaime do Inso) and made their escape. The slaughter of those who did not escape continued for two days and two nights.

When asked about this event, one particularly articulate member of a workshop on human rights in Taibesse in 2003 remembered that in fact, it was not the Portuguese alone who were able to expell Dom Boaventura. The Portuguese had their “international forces” — the Angolan troops were decisive and instilled much more fear than the Portuguese, according to this source.

Ironically, in Dili, in Jardim (one of the most visible camps), people who live under an Indonesian statue of Boaventura are spending all of their time looking for rice, which has skyrocketed in price because of massive shortages and a drought which led Timorese agriculture to under-perform.