East Timor Notebook: Hateh logo, Timor-Leste!

4th July
Somewhere between Dili and Denpasar

It’s the fourth of July and I am on a plane. I took one last look at Timor and its cold, foggy mountains, the 100% cotton clouds, the blue skies.



It’s goodbye to the four little kids in Villa Clara—Acela, Asoko, Abai and Anoko.

Goodbye to Kevin, who could be a pain in the ass sometimes, but was a good guy in his own way.

Goodbye to Humberto and Boni, who were the best Timorese partners possible in a team like ours.

Goodbye to Ainaro and all its cute ponies, piggies and especially the cows that are still animals* and not beef.

Goodbye to the aussies, who were all so kind and were great election observers. Goodbye to Damon and Tom, who let Kevin and me tag along their hike up the hill on Sunday afternoon, to get a good look at Ainaro from above.

Goodbye to all the UNPol, especially Joginder from Singapore, who was always looking out for the tired and hungry at the counting center.

Goodbye to the hard working (and good looking!) UNV peeps, even to the funny German guy who flirted so outrageously that it was amusing.

Goodbye Hans, goodbye Gustav, who were always a pleasure to have around, especially for games of “name the author” and other trivia, on the sidelines of vote-counting.


this way to dili

And goodbye to the team: Jill and her leadership, her attention to process rather than just output, the good food, good wine and good conversation, the cigarette breaks, the airport send-off and the tais; Dee and the lucky lighter she was sweet to leave behind for me—it brought me back safely from Ainaro but exploded last night when it fell out of my pocket at dinner; Bron, who cemented our friendship from Day 1 by suggesting that I move into the blue room and share it with her, her open-heartedness and ready smile; Endie, my first friend in Dili, with the smoke breaks on the veranda and late at night on the back porch, the insights into Timorese society, politics and the international solidarity movement; Jeff, for the trash runs and security checks with the Kiwis down the road; David, Willy, Barbara, Roy, Jakob, Sue, Katha…

I’ve just landed in Bali. My heart is heavy, not for sadness, but because it is full.



* On Sunday morning, after the elections, Kevin and I took a walk down the field behind the primary school in front of Villa Clara. There was a group of five cows, including a couple of calfs, grazing. As I walked toward them, they ran away and it struck me as odd. I realized why: they were acting like animals normally act around humans—evasive and wary, on the defensive—and not like slabs of uncut beef. As Belinda from the Aussie observer group put it: they were still able to express their cow-ness! The alpha cow kept one eye on the herd and one eye on us the whole time.


This was my first trip to East Timor. Won’t be my last.