July 5, 2006
Um. Really, now I'm Home Again
So, after a long delay in putting something on my blog - I write only to dramatically announce that as of now, this blog is suspended. Mainly because I am not in Timor. I am in America.
Shortly after returning to East Timor, I left (on my birthday none the less) because of the situation. If you don't know what I am talking about, Google News on Timor. Right. That's about all I have to say.
so said storbert | 3:32 PM | Comments (1)
May 21, 2006
Home Again
Coming back from three weeks vacation means a whole heap of worries about re-culture shock. Especially when coming in from two fabulous weeks in Bali. But, to keep pace with the dismal update rate that I have on this blog (less than one entry a month?! what is this?), I have many things to say, no real time to write an actual blog entry, and no photos!
But Timor, thanks to goodness, is slowly returning to normal. For those who don't know what happened, right before I left (28 April) some rioting broke out in Dili outside the government's offices. The fear, building on the trauma this country has been through, promted a mass exodus into the hills for many Dili residents. Coming back, shops are open again, and though we have eliminated any resemblence to traffic jams in the streets, it is possible to find a taxi. Though they have jacked up the rates again (urg ... more walking for me!). The land is drying out ... while I was gone the seasons did, without a doubt, really change, and my home street is dry and dusty. It's a huge improvement from the pig-wallowing mud-hole that it normally is.
The only thing that spolied my happy return was the cheerful greeting of my landlord who tells me, "You've gotten fat!" to which I did my best to re-muster my cultural sensitivity, and wincingly smile, "Thanks."
so said storbert | 8:03 PM | Comments (2)
April 11, 2006
Visa Runs
I had been dreading the visa run for an entire week. The work visa process had turned into an impossible six-month bureaucratic nightmare that ended three days before my tourist visa expired with me stomping out of a commissioner's office. Frustrations then skyrocketed as I meandered my way through getting an emergency Indonesian visa, booking a same-day return bus fare to sit in a hot over-crowded careening vehicle for over eight hours. Before I left, my-coworker joked at my semi-stoic pessimism and suggested that for all I knew, the love of my life would be sitting next to me on the bus. When an overweight 50-year old pushed his way beside me on Friday morning, I was simply certain that I had offended some spirit or another (or at least a prominent politician) and they were having their satisfaction in revenge.
It turned out to be an awesome day - who knew? Between meeting a friendly UN Media officer who had traveled from Kupang, West Timor to work in East Timor in 1999, to the incredibly easy border crossing, inclusive of coconut-water rice and curry meal with the bus driver, reading a science-fiction novel for a few hours while sitting on the beach in the no-man's land between the borders with two border patrolmen as personal guards, then chatting up custom's officials about the best type of 4WD to drive around the foho (mountains). A perfect vacation. Even better - though I did not meet the love of my life apparently I fulfilled that role for someone else. Marriage proposal # ... well, I can't remember ... -- an Indonesian inspections officer (quite handsome, I might add) was terribly disappointed when I spun the usual fib of married with two kids, and, most gentlemanly-like, suggested that if I had not been married he would have been more than pleased to spare me from singlehood. It was kind of cute. He didn't even inspect my bag.
so said storbert | 1:24 AM | Comments (1)
March 10, 2006
Tsunami Rumors
Last week I traveled to Same, in the Manufahi district of Timor. It rained, it rained hard, and it didn't stop for the four days we were out there. But the minor annoyance turned frightening, however, when the Darwin, Australia weather service called in to Dili warning of a heavy monsoon storm with an incredible low-pressure center - so low that they put out a cyclone warning - moving up towards the Timor heartland.
Within an hour I begin getting texts from friends in Dili querying, basically, whether or not I dead. In point of fact, I was actually down with another regular case of the stomach flu and would have rather been less than conscious. Thursday afternoon we left Same a bit early to avoid the storm and make a quick stop past Ainaro to talk to the radio, but upon reaching Ainaro receive word from Dili again that the cyclone warning has moved to early Friday morning and also moved towards Ainaro. As most media people do, we like to share the bad news, so we went to the radio station but found it deserted. We then stopped by the police station to see if anyone knew the radio volunteer's houses, and then did the mad-dash bouncing through the dark, rainy streets of Ainaro directed by one friendly officer, who spends most of the trip asking who the malae is, where she is from, and whether or not she can speak Tetun. I mumble the answers, far more interested in finding a safe, dry spot to curl up in and nurse my aching innards. Upon finding the radio staff, my co-worker relates the weather reports from Darwin and suggests that people should be warned about how to stay safe in heavy winds. The radio, however, was not open and hadn't been functioning due to irregular power. Shrugging his shoulders, he says that people will just spread the news and they don't need a media announcement. The police officer, listening intently, chimes in that he will let the church know and anyone else he can find of our weather news. We go back to rest before dashing to Dili the next morning, all slightly worried that the warning would never get spread - not by word of mouth in the midst of a heavy downpour.
In Dili the next day, we find out that the rumors of 'anin bo'ot' [storm, lit: big winds] and the possible rough seas [tasi sai], have been translated by a large portion of the population in all of Timor to: TSUNAMI!! Luckily there was no mass panic, despite many NGOs canceling work for 2-3 days, and when the rain stopped life went back to normal. That evening, though, I went to a salon to get the mop on my head trimmed a bit. In the midst of the Indonesian-style head massage, I hear the lady next to me recounting the panic in her neighborhood:
"Everyone was talking about big winds! We were all so scared and we brought the children inside but then later we were scared because people started talking about tsunami! We just thought it was rumors and no one knew if it was just lots of rain or if we should go to the hills, but then our cousins in Ainaro called and said that they knew there was a big 'anin bo'ot' coming, it was really big and the seas would rise and it could have been a tsunami! They said they were sure because the Americans had told the police there! Everyone was scared so we ran to our uncle's house that is inland with big walls."
Sitting silently next to her I wondered if I should say anything, but instead I made a mental note never to down the coverage (if not the accuracy) of word of mouth. What I really should have said was:
"Damn Americans. Should never believe a word they say anyways."
so said storbert | 9:43 PM | Comments (0) | TrackBack (0)
March 8, 2006
Old and the New
The title says it all.
Old:
And new:
so said storbert | 9:53 PM | Comments (1)
February 10, 2006
Old Woman on Mountain Loe Laku
In Maliana there is a large mountain that towers over the east edge of the city called Loe Laku. During the evening, when the sun sets over the low rolling hills of the west, framed by bright green rice fields, clouds roll in to cover the lower slopes of the mountain, but slide below the top peaks, which remain exposed to the dying rays of the sun.
In these last rays, Joao told me that there were histories of this mountain, but only the old mountain folk knew them and no one had bothered to go and ask. But he said there was one malae who knew these stories too. She came in 1975, interested in Timorese culture, specifically in spiritual objects likun. She had a daughter who goes to University in another country. She left after 1975 because of the Indonesian time, but then came back, and then later left Maliana to go to Loe Laku, and was followed by many Timorese who went with her to form a city on the west side of the mountain. In that city, he said, she was a special malae, not like most malaes. She chews the mama malus, and gets really red teeth like the old women of Timor. While most people cannot hold likun, she can. When I asked why, Joao laughed and then leaned in. He said she was learned in the likun, and as she was interested in Timorese culture she would ask people to bring their clothes and tais (traditional Timorese weaving) to her house, but that if they came at night they could not come in - they would just leave it on the veranda. But some people did see her at night, and when they did, she was transformed into a snake, and all the people who saw her died.
That night I stared up at the mountain and hoped that I would one day meet this malae with red teeth, but that I would make sure to go in the day ... just in case.
so said storbert | 9:39 PM | Comments (0)
February 9, 2006
Nasty Critter
Geckoes are usually small, rather cute creatures that live above your bed and break the silence of the night with an occasional cute chirrup that the Timorese call "teki" (which, for your cultural information, also refers to a young unmarried girl). But sometimes those tekis get big, and then they are called 'toke' and make this deep throated croak that sound rather manly ... hence the reference to 'toke' as an unmarried man. Sounds cute, right? And then I saw one ... (this thing is about a foot long).
Ugh! Not cute!
so said storbert | 1:44 AM | Comments (2)