Fried Kitten - East Timor 23rd May 2010

I haven’t updated this blog for a long time, but recent funny events have inspired me to. Because we are always saying.....Only in Timor.

Every day something breaks, sometimes multiple things break, it’s a fact of life out here. Sometimes they can be simple things such as the cheap Chinese plastic toilet plunger (you can’t buy quality, so you buy in bulk!) to very complex and expensive things like the compressor.
Well this year has been a marathon of things breaking. I’m not allowed to go on holiday because I’m jinxed. Every time I go on holiday something major breaks the very next day. The Jan 09 trip to Bali, we had a lightning strike that blew up the office laptop. September’s trip to Bali ended up with a wrecked Landcruiser. And Dim’s parting words to me when I set off for Perth in April was ‘What can go wrong?’ the very next day the boat sunk!

So I no longer get surprised when something gets broken, it only irritates me when I get told ‘Already broken long time’, because that’s the time you really need the item in question. Anyway yesterday was no exception; the first broken thing was the minibus.

Unfortunately, having a busy restaurant above us invites the families of stray cats to hang out near the bins. The kittens are cute when they are tiny but soon grow up into pests. However being a soppy animal lover I would never harm them. The weather has been cooler at night due to the amazing torrents of rain we have been having. So as animals do, little kitten sought out warmth and nestled into the engine of the minibus unbeknown to us.

Of course in the morning Antonio moved the minibus a few foot before the noise made him stop. All I could see of little kitty was a tiny tail hanging down out of the bottom of the car. It took about 2 hours before they could get it out and then I was asked for 20c so they could give it a decent burial. Unfortunately it then took another 2 hours to get the 2 fan belts back on. Poor kitty definitely didn’t have 9 lives.

Yesterday the rain was horrendous, we have been having huge downpours daily for the last couple of weeks, but yesterday we had two downpours. One of the units had been flooded recently so Greg and I donned swimming togs and ran round to assist only to find the swimming pool was brimming. We couldn’t drain it as the tank for the overflow was already overflowing. There was only one thing for it, jump in the pool with buckets and bail it out. That was until one bright spark bystander suggested we siphoned it off with the pool cleaner hose, much easier and quicker.

Other amusing ditties that have happened in East Timor recently is the new immigration Laws(?) You can no longer get a visa on arrival at the border with Indonesia. The only way you can get a visa on arrival is to fly in because the consulates in Kupang and Bali can’t issue visas. However some tourists were getting through on a 7 day visa while others were turned away completely. One of our tourists coming from Italy flew into Kupang, then had to fly to Bali and then to Dili as he didn’t want to waste the time and risk being turned away. Another tourist was stuck here because of the volcanic ash in Europe. Still, there are worse places to be.

Now the ports authority is another thing. We were expecting a shipment of mattresses from Indonesia. Our man that can went to get the container on the Thursday but the port was having a power cut and the backup generator could not power their computers, so they couldn’t release the container. Same thing on Friday. Then it’s the weekend and they don’t work on the weekend. Monday the National Police decided due to traffic problems that the container trucks could not go on the road until after 6pm. Unfortunately the Ports Authority finish work at 5pm. So again no containers were moving and boats were backing up unable to unload. Eventually after a huge fight between the Police and the Ports Authority, containers started to move again. We eventually got our shipment a week later. One poor bugger was in the same situation as us and the Ports Authority tried to charge him for storage!

Well the only things that have broken today is the wires on the water fountain shorted and the light over the BBQ has broken and the waterproof coating we put on the truck has disintegrated, but it is only 5pm......what next?

Bureaucracy gone mad – East Timor June 5th 2009

In a previous life back in the UK, I used to sell software to government bodies and departments. One of the strap lines for the product I sold was ‘Business Process Reengineering’, in other words, look at all the manual inefficient processes, weed out the redundant ones and automate the rest, the paperless office. This never completely happened of course because government being government still needed rubber stamps and paperwork, but it went a long way to streamline the processes and make the department more efficient.

Part of the sales process was to analyse the existing processes and try and understand why it took 4 departments, 2 sign offs and a minimum of 6 weeks just to pay an invoice, then come up with an automated solution that would achieve the same thing in a week. Never in all the years of doing this did I suggest taking a match to the existing paperwork and completely starting again, until I got to East Timor!

A month ago Zelia our office assistant said Antonio has had a car accident. After establishing that he wasn’t hurt and where the accident was, I set off with the car registration documents, my driving licence, $100 and Zelia in tow.

The accident was just around the corner and already the UNPol were there (a lovely Philippine cop that I had taught to dive two years before). A Portuguese woman had run up the back of our Ute and caved the back tray in whilst completely demolishing the front of her car, obviously going too fast to stop in time. The woman’s husband, a Timorese cop, had arrived in his car and as we departed for the police station the woman managed to smash into his car too!

At the police station I discovered that Antonio had lost his driving licence and in fact the one he had had was Indonesian not Timorese. The woman also had no driving licence so they were both issued fines. With the fine in hand I took Antonio down to the ministry of transport to pay it and get Antonio a new application for a driving licence but discovered the ministry was closed. As is common here, most places have a 2 hours lunch break, but this place takes even more. The opening hours are 9-11.45 then 2-3.30, and if you want to apply for driving licence then you can only do that in the morning.

So we returned at 2pm to pay the fine. After queuing at the main window for some time we were told to go to building 40. Now these buildings as such are portacabins with very tiny numbers on them, where the officials inside (like many govt departments worldwide) have one person serving at the window and the rest playing patience on their computers. I know because I accidently went in the door and saw the screens rather than stand on a bit of breezeblock at the window as I was supposed to do.

They gave us a new document and told us to go to the photocopy window, where I had to get two copies at 10c a copy, which was a pleasant surprise as last time when I tried to register one of our cars, it was 8 copies. Then back to building 40, and then back to the original window to hopefully pay. But, no, the police administrator had written the case number down as our car registration number so of course it was back to the police station!

Registration number typexed and rewritten we went back to the ministry of transport at 3.20. By 3.45 and several windows later we managed to pay but it looked like our Mitsubishi Ute was registered as a 10 person microlet. Back to the police station and I realised that we have two Mitsubishi’s and the police assistant had written down the details and registration of our Pajero which didn’t match with the Ute, and of course the police assistant had by then gone home. Finally I managed to convince the policeman in charge that it was a mistake and we had actually paid the fine. I got the call at nine thirty a.m. and finally walked out of the police station at four thirty p.m.!

Meanwhile back to Antonio’s driving licence. The next day in the morning, he returned to the ministry only to be told they had run out of forms! The day after he got a form and was told he needed a medical at Dili hospital. So, he went to Dili hospital and was told they only do medicals on Tuesday mornings, so the next Tuesday he went to the hospital for his medical, the results of which could only be collected the next Tuesday! The next Tuesday he managed to pick up the results but only in the afternoon which meant the test centre was closed. On Thursday the 28th he finally took his test and was told he could pick up his licence on the 12th of June! Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh! Crazy! So I’m still down one driver.

Many things are lost in translation, even though you think that something has been translated, it doesn’t actually mean it is understood. Rita our cook normally buys this processed plastic Kraft cheese which is horrible, so I asked her to buy Australian Black and Gold cheddar which at least has some taste, I even drew the packet. What she came back with was Kraft cheese and two packets of frozen chips. Huh!!!!

As Rita only works Saturday morning and not on Sunday we found we sometimes ran out of the basic essentials on a weekend, milk, bread, loo roll etc. So I devised a system for Rita to check the minimum levels 3 times a week and if we fell below those levels she was to buy more. After a couple of weeks of trialling I realised that something wasn’t understood so I tried explaining it again. Thinking we had finally cracked it, Rita came proudly back from shopping yesterday. I had to hug her because we are now owners of no less than 6 boxes of cornflakes that were not even on the list! We are going to be eating cornflakes for months!

Names are another stumbling block; I often come back from diving and find messages in the book from people I have never heard of. It’s usually a misspelling of the name and I can work it out, but the name Nim puzzled me. On phoning the number I found it was one of our regular clients, Ian! Now we call him Nim as a nickname.

Nafy joined as an office assistant a few months ago. On a Saturday she finishes at 5, so to give me a hint she subtly puts the cash box on the counter for me to lock away. One Saturday she did this just as I came in the shop followed by 20 US Navy, whose average height was over 6ft. At which point she put the cashbox back, stood up, looked up and grinned, as the top of her head would only be mid chest level on these guys. We spent the next hour grabbing as many L and XL boots and Fins as we could find and delivering them to a barrage of ‘Thank you Mamm!’, ‘Size 12 Mamm!’ and ‘I need a bigger size Mamm!’ When the shop finally emptied we sat back and giggled. I think Nafy had severe neck ache the next day.

Our pool is all but finished, just the paving around it needs to be done, but it’s filled and awesome. It’s 3 meters deep, which is fantastic for dive training and of course it’s just out the back and can be used at night as its lit inside. We spent the first couple of evenings partying in the pool, it’s so nice. Today is the first day it’s going to be used for students and we are going to have an opening party at the end of the month, should be fun!

Medical Mayhem – East Timor 18th June 2008

At the age of 12 I joined St John’s Ambulance, it was a compromise with my stepmother, if I did something useful, then I could go to the youth club afterwards. So after an hour of dressing fake wounds and creating perfect roller bandages, I would share a coca-cola with my wanna-be skinhead mates at the local Holy Family church youth club.

In my teenage years, however, St John’s proved very useful; you could get to see bands free. Ok, you had to wear a very embarrassing uniform and you were always at the back, but you got guaranteed entrance.

As a diving instructor I teach EFR (Emergency First Response) which is not much different from the St John’s of years ago, simulated situations, plastic dummies and fake pain. Until last Saturday I’d never actually had to use my training in a real emergency, and I hope with all my heart, I never have to again.

In East Timor, crash helmets are supposed to be mandatory, but it’s a complete farce. You often see thin plastic crash helmets rolling down the street where they have come off because the rider has not done the strap up. In a climate such as East Timor, crash helmets are pretty hot but young lads also want to be ‘seen’ on a motorbike because they are still luxury items, most people can’t afford one. That’s why you often see a family of five on one motorbike, and if you are lucky the main rider only has a crash helmet perched on his head. The local Dili motorbike riders also have a habit of removing the mirrors on the motorbike, because it looks ‘cool’ which creates a traffic culture of merge and swerve. As a car driver, the slower the better as you never know what’s going to pull out on you.

On Saturday I was in the Hotel Timor pool teaching a rescue course when we suddenly heard a sickening screech then crunch. It took a couple of seconds to register but then I was out of the pool and in the street as fast as my legs would carry me. One of our Divemaster Trainees was already ahead of me. We emerged to find two young lads only about 16 or 17 lying in the street both with serious head injuries. One apparently was wearing one of these cheap plastic crash helmets that came off immediately upon impact, the other wasn’t wearing one at all.

It does not matter how much training you have had, nothing prepares you for reality. There was absolutely nothing I could do except keep the head still and check for breathing, they were so badly injured that you just were willing the ambulance to arrive, I felt so helpless. There was an Australian army guy there that was amazing, he packed and dressed one of the guys head. It was the second major traffic incident involving a motorbike that he had dealt with in a month. But what really got me was the onlookers, I know it happens in every country, but fellow Timorese taking photographs of a guy that’s lost 2 pints of blood on the street really sickened me.

The first ambulance arrived after 20 minutes but it seemed like hours. They had no neck brace but at least they had a back board, the second ambulance didn’t even have that. Seeing the two young lads off in the ambulance you knew there was nothing you could do for them and their chances of survival were slim to zero. On Monday evening I found out there as a shrine laid out on the road, one the boys had died, just after his sixteenth birthday.

What an absolute crazy waste of life! That lad were someone’s son, brother or nephew. It costs $30 to buy a full face padded helmet here, ok, it may not be up to Australian or UK standards but at least it gives some chance of survival. The attitude here seems to be that crash helmets are worn to avoid a fine, but the education doesn’t extend to the fact that mandatory crash helmet wearing is there to save lives. One of the guys I used to work with cut a star shape in the top of his helmet for ventilation because it was ‘too hot’. If he had come off of his motorbike the sharp plastic edged would have impaled in his skull but that was a risk he was willing to take even though he actually owned a full face padded helmet.

$30 however, out here is a lot of money. On the average wage of $2 per day, that’s half a month’s salary but the loss of a loved one is a hell of a price to pay.

Later in the week I had my own experience of Timorese medical care. While teaching the same rescue course, I got my foot stuck in a hole between rocks. At the time I was carrying a lot of equipment, so when the wave came, my foot stayed where it was and the rest of my body went sideways, spraining the foot badly. After two days of hobbling around I went to see the Portuguese doctor who wanted me to get an x-ray to ensure there wasn’t a fracture.

There are only two places in Dili where non military/UN folk can get an x-ray. One is clinic that’s open from 12 until 2 and the other is Dili National Hospital with its one tired x-ray machine and its single only operator. The hospital itself is under construction, so there are planks over walkways which were hard to navigate with a painful strapped up foot, let alone a wheelchair!

After locating the X-Ray department whose walls are adorned with ‘DANGER RADIATION’ posters, I gave in my doctor’s letter and was told I had to pay, which I expected. What I didn’t expect is payment has to be made in the Laboratory which is two buildings away. So off I hobbled only to find the entrance I had been told to go to was closed for construction, so I hobbled back the way I came and tried a different way. Once I got to the lab a friend of mine who worked there took pity on me and led me through the maze of corridors to the payment section, I’d never had found it on my own.

Back at the x-ray department there were around 60 people in the waiting room. Here you see the poverty of the country, young mums with faded, ill fitting clothes, mosquito scarred legs, carrying their stick thin sick children in sarongs tied around their neck. The whole hospital looks tired, antiquated equipment, grubby walls and posters stuck up with yellowing sticky tape. The renovated blocks look good though and according to the doctor it is so much better than a few weeks ago when the IDP’s were still living there. Then you had tents between every building, with cooking fires and livestock tethered at the entrance of the operating room and Intensive Care Ward, not a hygienic environment for a hospital. I’m glad I don’t get sick very often.

Luckily my foot wasn’t broken, only sprained, so I’m going to be careful where I put my feet in the future, I’d rather not repeat this experience.

Time gentleman please – East Timor 15th February 2008

The state of emergency and subsequent curfew has been extended until the 20th of February. I popped into Fat Boys after work yesterday, the place was packed and everyone was eating. I joked with Fat Boy himself that he was getting the whole nights business in two hours and by 8 o’clock he can sit back and relax. Closer to home at the Dili Club at five to eight, it was like drinking up time in a bar in the UK, except the landlord didn’t need to call time, the government did. The only time I’ve seen a pub clear so quick is when ‘Time’ is called Christmas Day lunchtime. The journey home was eerie, not a car or person on the street.

The curfew is having a bad financial effect for many businesses such as restaurants and nightclubs that only open in the evening. The other business is Tiger Fuels, the country’s only 24 hour garage and convenience store, which is now 14 hours. Much of their business is done at night when people pop in for pizzas and petrol, or emergency supplies such toothpaste, nappies, toilet roll, water or dog food. If you get caught short now, you need to make sure it’s before 8 p.m.

Other businesses however are making a financial killing again. What with the attempted assassinations on Monday, the funeral of Alfredo yesterday and the arrival of the Australian PM Kevin Rudd today, the journalists have flocked back into Dili filling the hotels and renting all the available cars.

Whenever you ask an East Timorese ‘Where are you from?’ the answer is never Dili, this always puzzled me. I had it explained by one taxi driver recently. When the Portuguese came to East Timor, Dili was a small village, the Portuguese developed it into a port and city and the East Timorese came to Dili for work. But generations later, their loyalty is with their village or town that their family came from. For births, deaths and religious ceremonies the Dili residents return to their home towns.

Here when someone dies, their body is laid out in the family home for family and friends to pay their respects and grieve. From friends’ accounts, the women wail in grief and the whole process is very vocal, quite different from the sedate affair we are used to in the UK. Alfredo’s body was laid out in his stepfather’s house just down the road from work. I can’t imaging he would have been a pretty sight given the wounds he received. Hundreds of East Timorese were at the house to pay their respects along with a very visual display of military and police. He was buried in the garden rather than being transported back to his home town of Maubisse breaking with tradition, because it was too much of a risk to move the body with all the road blocks and security.

The city seems relatively calm but wary. The daily rain is putting a dampener on things (excuse the pun!) and the nightly curfew means that any activities on the street are highly visible. Ramos Horta in the mean time is reported to be stable which is a relief.

One thing I did notice this morning is the taxis; gone are the sun strips that cover half the windscreen, gone are the blackened out windows and the taxi drivers are driving around with their windows open. I don’t think this has anything to do with the overcast weather more to do with being visible at road blocks.

No Drunking Bar!– East Timor 25th January 2008

There are more and more Malais around town with the UN and NGOs’s, which creates a higher demand for cars, accommodation and unfortunately, prostitutes. There also seems to be more IDP’s especially around the harbour area, so much so that they are camped out on the slipway causing problems for anyone trying to get their boat in and out of the water. The Harbour View cafe should be renamed the IDP View cafe because that’s all you can see.

So why are there increases in the IDP’s? There are a few reasons; one, some people cannot move home because other people have moved into their homes. Two, the government is offering payouts for the IDP’s to move, but you have to be an IDP in the first place to get the money. Three, which is the most concerning, is if you move out to an IDP camp, you get free water, free rice and in some cases electricity and satellite TV and you can rent your house out to a Malai for $1000 per month. Given that the average wage is $2 per day, even if you have 3 members of the family working you would still make a 455% profit, a bit of a no brainer!

In a recent clampdown around 100 prostitutes and pimps were arrested and are now sitting in jail awaiting deportation. It’s mainly Chinese girls that come in on tourist visas. Several bars have been closed down including one that proudly announces it is a ‘No Drunking Bar’. You can’t get a drink but you can buy a girl.

In East Timor if you are looking prosperous (i.e. a bit porky) it’s a good thing, it means you can afford to eat. Whereas if you are looking dark, it’s a bad thing as fair is beautiful. I was talking to a New Zealand cop and on the same day we had both been insulted. I was looking for a bicycle as mine had been nicked on Xmas Eve. $200 was out of my price range so I asked to see bikes around the $70-$100 price range. I was shown one without gears, but I was advised by the shop assistant not to buy it because, quote ‘In two weeks it will break because your body is so big!’ Similarly the NZ cop was told after returning from holiday, by one of the waitresses at the Espalanda ‘Manna (sister) your skin is so black! Beauty is definitely in the eye of the beholder.

Crash helmets are supposed to be compulsory, but unfortunately you get a family of five on a moped but only the driver is wearing a helmet and usually they are the thin plastic helmets that don’t come anywhere near to the safety helmets required for skateboarding in the US. I saw the classic today; a motorcyclist had a helmet which had split, so he had fixed it with bright yellow cable ties. Unfortunately, he had not trimmed the cable ties so his helmet looked like he had a bright yellow Mohican.

I’ve found a semi reliable taxi driver to take me to work. Most taxi drivers in Dili must develop back problems as they black out their windscreen so far down that they have to stoop to see out of it. Manuel is no exception, he’s not only got blacked out windows, but he’s got about 8 inches of unadulterated windscreen to peer out of. The difference with Manuel is he doesn’t have a huge woofer in the back of his cab, so you are not tortured with over loud Indo music and only hearing the base. Manuel plays West Life and has Air Conditioning. One of his first comments to me was ‘My Taxi is my God’, given that most Timorese taxis don’t sound like they are going to make it to your destination, I’ve decided to give Manuel a go.

We have had so much rain recently that most people are coming down with either stomach problems or mosquito related diseases. Touch wood, I’ve managed to avoid both. The weather though doesn’t do much for business; however it’s a great time to do rescue courses. The worse the conditions, the better the course. Some days, after heavy downpours of rain, it’s like diving in England, but without the cold. There is one advantage of poor visibility though; you can get much closer to the fish. Dili Rock on Thursday I had an amazing dive.

Taxi Terror – East Timor 26th December 2007

The taxis here in Dili usually sport a windscreen banner such as ‘Tomboy’, ‘Remember’ and ‘White Zombie’, to name but a few. The banners obscure all but a strip of windscreen which they peer out of and dangly things such as religious ornaments and cuddly toys usually adorn their mirrors. There doesn’t seem to be any regulations concerning taxi roadworthiness, they all travel at 25km per hour and as long as their horn works any fare is fair game. Taxi fares before the crisis were $1 but went up to $2 around town. However, Joey got in a cab that broke down 3 times on the way to his destination and to his horror he realised the taxi driver didn’t have any brakes. This fact he gathered when he saw the driver (rapidly approaching parked traffic) desperately pumping the brakes, then yanking the handbrake and as a last ditch attempt, sticking his foot out of the drivers side door and dragging his flip-flop along the ground. After an hour of gritted teeth on this precarious journey, the cab driver had the audacity to try and charge him $3! Unfortunately this one wasn’t sporting a banner, so we would know which one to avoid.

We have had a series of unofficial roadblocks around town outside the nativity scenes. The locals put rocks in the road to slow down the traffic, effectively making some two way roads single lane. I don’t blame them as there has been so much rain recently, you don’t want the UN haring through puddles and soaking baby Jesus or in the case of the one outside the Australian Embassy, the kangaroo. I thought Mary and Joseph had a cow, a lamb and 3 wise men in the stable, I can’t recall a kangaroo!

Honestly though, you have to be extra careful driving at the moment, because of all the puddles you are likely to get a motorbike or cyclist pulling straight out in front of you (mirrors don’t exist on two wheel modes of transport). I’ve watched some UN vehicles treating the puddles like a game, screaming down the road seeing how many Timorese they can soak en-route. I nearly got pushed off of the road today by a UN cop, registration number UN 0116, trying to overtake me on a bend then finding himself face to face with a nativity road block, so rather than pull back he cut me up pushed me off of the road. If I had been in the truck I may have stood my ground but I’m driving my friends car while he is on holiday, so I had to content myself with a lot of swearing, horn blowing and rude hand signals.

Christmas Eve we got burgled by some local scroates who saw the Christmas booze being loaded into the house, then the boys leaving to collect some food. They jumped over the back wall and slit open the mosquito net on my window with a knife. They raided my room and took $450, 2 credit cards and all my swimming costumes (strange huh!), then went through the house nicking a pair of binoculars, two cases of tiger and a bottle of gin, before escaping through the back door and back over the wall with my pushbike, amazingly. Now you would think the dogs would have created alarming which Ann would have heard because frighteningly she was in the house at the time, but she didn’t hear a thing. So we suspect that the scroates threw some food over which was drugged as the dogs were off of their dinner that night, and if you have ever met Doris, you know that that is a rare occasion. So that took the stuffing out of Christmas for me having to rustle up phone cards to ring the UK and cancel credit cards, then dealing with the police. I know this kind of thing happens the world over on Christmas Eve, at least I wasn’t a little kid that got all her presents stolen.

Talking of presents, there are some really tacky Chinese lighters being sold around town. I was standing outside Leader supermarket when one of the phone card vendors said ‘Hello Missus’ and showed me his lighter with disco lights, I told him my lighter had disco lights. ‘Hello Missus’ again and showed me the built in torch, so I got my lighter out and showed him my built in torch. ‘Hello Missus’ again and he pressed down the lighter to show me the flame, so I did the same but my lighter started playing Happy Birthday at the same time! Wayne had found the musical lighters in the Dili club and was so amused by them that he bought the whole stock and preceded to annoy everyone with renditions of ‘Oh my Darling Clementine’, ‘London Bridge is falling down’ and ‘Happy Birthday’ on a loop for the next week. Not to be outdone by my musical lighter, the phone card vendor tried a final ‘Hello Missus’ and showed me a lighter with a torch that displayed a provocatively clad woman illuminated in its beam. I don’t think he quite expected the peals of laughter from me as I groped for a $1 bill, what a great tacky Christmas present.

The Magic Man - East Timor 7th May 2007

This week is the one year anniversary of the start of the trouble in East Timor. To mark the occasion we had a Lulik ceremony where we each chucked a stone at the wall to mark hopefully the last stone to be thrown, the Timorese however took a more solemn approach and lined the streets with candles to mark the occasion.

Talking of Lulik ceremonies, our housekeepers youngest child has been sick for 10 days, so she took him to the doctors but he hasn’t got any better, so now she is taking a few days off and travelling 4 hours to Same to see her village Lulik man (witch doctor), so much for modern medicine. Good news though, she returned today and it seems the magic has worked.

A friend of mine had a bit of a neighbourhood dispute while I was away; unfortunately their house was stuck between the guy the village had a gripe with, and some feisty villagers that would not make the Red Socks. Their aim with the stones was so bad that they were landing on my friend’s roof instead. To solve this, the Lulik man of the village took some soil from the battleground, mixed it with water and made both parties drink it, so that if anyone fights on that ground again they will face the curse of Lulik magic. Case closed, the Timorese are very superstitious and wouldn’t dare upset the gods.

I love some of the ways Timorese translates, some of my favourites are:-
Ulun-fatuk moras – Head stone sickness (Headache)
Isin rua – Body two (Pregnant)
Laran Sa’e – Inside to go up (Feel like vomiting)

Recently, the incidents against Malai have increased, not major incidents but more opportunistic. These types of incidents can happen (and do happen) in any major city of the world, muggings, hotel rooms burgled, car vandalism, etc. However, a couple came round to return some snorkelling equipment on Saturday and they had been robbed by a couple of guys, one wielding a machete. They came out of the water to find a couple of guys by the car demanding money, the girl made a run for it and while the guys were distracted, the boyfriend gunned the engine and managed to screech away picking up his girlfriend en-route, not before they had lost a wallet and a camera though. Rest assured we always take security when we go snorkelling or diving, it’s just a shame that we need to.

Talking of screeching away, the UN has been given a ticking off this week. At a town hall meeting this week it was announced that in 2 months there have been over 80 traffic accidents where UN vehicles were the only vehicles involved. Last Saturday, a UN car was stopped at 1.35 am because of erratic driving. Needless to say the driver was drunk, but then proceeded to assault the police!

In response to this incident, UN Security set up a check point between Pig Bridge (Yes it really is known as that!) and the Dili 2001 Hotel. Between the hours of 1 am and 4 am, 26 UN vehicles were stopped, 4 UN staff members tested positive to a breath test. 1 refused to take the test! 3 vehicles and 2 weapons were impounded and 7 non UN staff were being carried as passengers in UN cars without permission. Mmmm, alcohol, guns and driving, a pretty lethal combination me thinks!

In the same speech it was stated ‘Many of you say that the driving conditions here can be challenging’. I don’t disagree, what with taxis doing 15km per hour, motorbikes not having mirrors, pigs/goats/dogs/kids running out in the road unexpectedly, indicators that are ornaments, pot holes and now traffic lights that are sporadically adhered to. But we were always taught to ‘read the road ahead’, if the UN slowed down a bit, then they may be able to find it less challenging and decrease the number of accidents!

The Presidential elections were not 200,000 votes over; apparently someone got the decimal in the wrong place! However, to win the election the candidate must have 50% plus 1 vote, which none of the candidates did. So the re-election is on Wednesday, and so far there has been no trouble just a few isolated incidents in the normal trouble spots. The atmosphere actually seems calmer and more positive since my return, taxis are actually running just after dark and it feels safer to walk around at night. Obviously with an air of caution, there are still absolute no go areas. I think everyone is sick to the back teeth of the violence and hopefully the June parliamentary elections will close the chapter on this unsettled year. Only time will tell, you come to expect the unexpected in East Timor.

Diving has been a bit quiet this week, mainly due to me being stuffed up with a cold. A real shame because the water is calm and the visibility is about 20 meters. Still it looks like what was the little rainy season we had is over, so the visibility just gets better and better from now on.

Rice Race – East Timor 23rd February 2007

There is a shortage of rice in East Timor at the moment, apparently the government didn’t order enough plus with the very late wet season, the crops are down. The price of a 50kg bag of rice has gone up from $15 to over $30, some rumours put it up as high as $55. So the latest unrest in Dili is all about rice, or lack of it, which seems crazy as before the crisis most people couldn’t afford rice and existed on cassava and potatoes which do grow easily here. But because rice has been handed out for free during the last few months by aid agencies, the shortage and black market inflated prices are causing rioting in the streets.

We had been out to lunch and popped into Landmark supermarket to pick up some shopping. Landmark at the moment is a caution area as trouble often kicks off along that road. There were a few UNPol around and a bit of an atmosphere, as we drove through Bebeno we found out why, loads of guys running down the street with rice bags on their backs and happy smiling faces. They had just raided one of the government rice stores.

I was talking to a lady who’s job was looking after rice distribution at the (ex) British Embassy pancake do that night. She told me about the raid and the fact she waited ½ an hour before calling UNPol. “It’s their rice after all”. Good lady.

Much, much earlier that morning, 6am to be precise, I was driving to Dili Rock for an early morning dive. Coming up to the new traffic lights, they started to turn red so I slowly braked, but nothing happened, I went cruising through the red lights, luckily it was early an nothing was on the road. Coming back was a different matter, unfortunately the traffic lights are on a dip, so I couldn’t stop the truck, I had to turn the wheel into some gravel to stop myself going into the back of the line of traffic. That was more than a little hairy. Crawling back to the dive centre, Nelson was waiting for me at the gate, and started to laugh when I overshot the dive centre and had to reverse back, he thought I’d just been daydreaming until I explained about the brakes. Today, we heard a loud bang and the whole house shook, Wayne rammed the outside wall and Ann came out with the classic line ‘I take it we’ve got no brakes then!’ Needless to say we can’t drive it until the spare parts arrive.

Apparently the traffic lights are going to be turned off again because since they have been working there has been an increase in car muggings when car stop at the red light. Another unsuccessful project!

In other hairy moments this week, we had gunfire behind the Esplanada the other night, and a few days ago the FDTL (local army) fired 2 shots from an M16 into the Kampong next to us. Two men from the IDP camps have been killed by the Australian military, the first casualties by foreign troops. One of the men killed was firing an Ambon arrow at the soldier when he shot him. I don’t blame him, if I was faced with an Ambon arrow, I’d probably do the same. They are nasty things with hooks at the end which they dip in poison or excrement.

Anyway, the result of these fatalities was a protest yesterday to present a petition to the Australian Embassy, and then the protest would proceed to Bacau for the funeral. The UNPol and GNR were out in force, but no with no Australian UNPol or troops. They re-routed the protest and let a small faction present the petition which basically demanded that all foreign troops pull out of East Timor. Like that’s going to happen! As a precaution, Lindsay arrived from Darwin yesterday with a load of Union Jacks for us. The last thing you want to be flying at the moment is an Australian flag.

When he went to hire a car, Lindsay asked what the policy was if the car got rocked, as there is no insurance in this country. He was told, any damage he had to pay for. Then he asked what if he caught the scrote that did it, and brought him to them. The reply was, they would kill the scrote, but he still had to pay for any damage!

Meanwhile Alfredo ransacked three police stations and made off with a load of guns. You may recall Alfredo is a rebel leader that escaped from prison some months back. He’s supposedly hiding out in Same, so the UN have evacuated all personnel from Same and surrounding areas. The place is surrounded by troops. Let’s hope this time if they catch him, that they can keep hold of him.

On the diving front, I’ve had a fantastic week. I’ve been teaching speci

alities and will certify my first master scuba diver tonight. I did my first night dive in East Timor at K41 and had a huge turtle an arm stretch away from me as well as a frogfish, lobster and blue spotted stingray. At the weekend I saw 4 humphead parrotfish and today, shark, moray eels, a flying gurnard, barracuda, mantis shrimp and squid, incredible.

Jurgen came back from his IDC (Instructor Development Course) and IE (Instructors Exams) in Bali. He passed with flying colours as I knew he would, but I was like an expectant mum back here waiting for the results. The other good news is that we are a tic free zone again, the injections worked, thank god.

Green for Stop? – East Timor 5th of January 2007

New Years Eve we did a bit of a tour starting at Hotel Dili, then Castaways, popped into Tiger fuels and said happy new year to Jim and Whitey, then the Smokehouse, One more Bar who had a band playing, and finally Yoey’s place. Unfortunately we missed midnight by about 2 minutes but driving along the Banana Road the Timorese were out banging metal poles for all they were worth and dancing outside the nativity scenes. We were in time however for the fireworks at Yoey’s, which was the busiest place we had been all night. Leading up to Christmas you couldn’t get a flight out of Dili, they were fully booked from the 12th to the 24th so many people took the opportunity to get away over New Years, so Dili was relatively quiet.

Late that night we heard that Whitey had been in a motorcycle accident and was being medivaced to Darwin. The accident had happened around 9.30 that evening only 10 minutes after we had spoke to him at Tiger Fuels where he had been wearing his crash helmet. Apparently the local army (FDTL) were overtaking each other at speed in their trucks and had run over Whitey. Unfortunately he’s not in a good way and the guys responsible have gone into hiding and are refusing access for the trucks to be inspected. Somebody needs to be held accountable for the accident, if the tables were turned and a Malai was involved in an accident with a Timorese, then the Malai pays whether it’s their fault or not. We are advised that in the case of an accident, to just keep driving, don’t stop, no matter what and get to the nearest police station.

My only run in with the FDTL was a few months back when I was crawling up the hill fully loaded in the truck. The first of 10 FDTL trucks came tearing down the hill, packed with machine gun wielding soldiers and screamed at me ‘Get out of the way!’ This is easier said than done when you are in first gear going uphill in a heavy truck. But these were the guys that were responsible for shooting 9 unarmed policemen back in April. The road has been blocked off with stones in memoriam to the dead ever since it happened.

Crash helmets are compulsory in East Timor, but since the trouble started this law is being ignored. You often see a family of four on a moped and not one of them with a crash helmet. For those that do wear them they are often thin moulded plastic, not even as protective as a hard hat and in fact would probably cause more damage by shattering into the skull on impact. We watched one guy yesterday, stop his motorbike to pick up his crash helmet when it fell off. He promptly put it back on over his baseball cap, didn’t do it up and it would probably fall off again in the next five minutes. The problem is the Timorese were told they had to wear crash helmets, but no one explained to them why and the benefits.

To cause more chaos on the streets, the UN are putting in 10 sets of traffic lights. For a capital city with no traffic lights, no street lights and a rule that you stop on a roundabout to let traffic come on, this seems pretty ludicrous. They are either going to be ignored or some drivers are going to sit and stare at them because they don’t know what to do. They are also painting pedestrian crossings on the road. Let’s see how many accidents they cause. The UN would be better off either investing the money in a proper driving education scheme or getting the street lights working again and making Dili feel safer at night.

Tonight I was driving home and the streets were pitch black (hence the need for street lights!). I wasn’t driving fast but there was a dog lying in the middle of the road, as soon as it saw the car, it bolted, and there was a sickening yelp as it went under the wheels. I drove another half a mile then pulled over and bawled my eyes out. I couldn’t stop to put the dog out of its misery as the local villagers would demand money for the dog and it could get nasty. They certainly demand money for livestock such as pigs, cows, goats and chickens if Malai run them over. I felt devastated, especially when our three dogs have taken to escaping recently because they are petrified of the fire crackers. Sickie has cut his head open trying to get out of the fence and Bandit went AWOL on New Years Eve in the middle of a thunderstorm. I know how I would feel if anything happened to them as I’m completely soppy about dogs, I even had a soft spot for our scabby instructors dog called Chicken Bones in Egypt.

I’m going to get on my soapbox again, this time it’s about the American Embassy. Of course like most embassies here it’s on prime time land overlooking the sea and they have just built a 25meter, 4 lane swimming pool in the grounds, visible by all the surrounding kampongs, the residents of which think rice is a luxury. Anyway if that wasn’t bad enough, American residents of East Timor only were allowed to use the pool and up to 5 of their guests, this was recently changed to Embassy staff only were allowed to invite guests, providing the were Malai, not Timorese, how racist it that, it’s disgraceful! It really pisses me off when the Malai act as if it’s just a job and the country doesn’t exist. This is Dili not Washington or Sydney, live with it!

Another incident involving the American Embassy was on Christmas Eve. Ros’s daughter had a temperature on nearly 40 degrees which in this country is usually a sign of malaria. She is an American citizen so they tried to see the American doctor at the Embassy on Christmas Day only to be told she could only see the doctor if they had a letter from the Ambassador himself. Luckily they managed to find another doctor and it wasn’t malaria just a virus.

We often get overlanders coming through East Timor doing the trip either UK to Australia or the other way round. Also we get people that want to visit every country on earth and East Timor is one of the newest. Lynda is the latest overlander starting out from Spain 21 months ago on her 600cc Kawaski motorbike. Lynda is tiny and the bike is huge in comparison, especially since she’s lost 10 kilos during her trip. To get any vehicle into Australia is must be taken apart and meticulously cleaned as Australia is very fussy regarding bugs entering the country. I remember years ago travelling in Australia and you were not allowed to take any foodstuffs into Queensland because of the fruit fly risk. Usually the overlanders hang around for a week or so, doing the cleaning themselves (which is a hell of a job), or getting their vehicle cleaned (which is very expensive), ready to be shipped to Darwin. Throughout the journey, Lynda had cushioned her bum with a sheepskin rug which was very dirty and bedraggled by now. Obviously there was no way that the Australians would let her take that into their country so she had a cremation ceremony for it and played Baa Baa Black Sheep on a whistle while it burned

I’ve been reasonably busy on the diving front with Open water courses, a mixture of soldiers, doctors and now a geologist. One of the GNR I have been teaching to dive is banned from drinking throughout his whole six month mission in East Timor. Apparently, when he first got here he went on a binge and got himself lost in Dili, so the whole of the GNR were scouring the streets looking for him. After that his boss banned him from drinking!