The Adventures of Takako the Danger Librarian
18 October 2001:
"One Week (not the one sung by Barenaked Ladies)"
Dili, East Timor. What a place.
It's not hell, although sometimes it feels as hot as hell might.
That's a given, so there's not much point in complaining. It even
sprinkled a little bit last night, perhaps a little hint of the
wet season that is to come.
I'm now in the southern hemisphere. The farthest south I've been
before now is Rome, unless San Antonio or Dallas is further
south. Definitely nowhere near the equator, and now I'm on the
other side! My sister has already asked me twice which way the
water in the toilet flushes (it's supposed to be clockwise down
here, I think). I still haven't seen a toilet that flushes that
way (circularly). Maybe I'll have to check in Darwin.
My journey down to Denpasar was fairly routine. Cathay Pacific
had wonderful service. I was still nursing a cold (still am, a
bit), and the flight attendants took good care of me. One of them
on the JFK/YVR/HKG flight gave me Tiger Balm dissolved in hot
water for me to inhale, which made me feel better. Another
attendant on the HKG/DPS leg gave me a big bottle of Evian and a
box of tissues (along with some acetaminophen, "just in case") as
I got off the plane. Those definitely came in handy.
But the airport in Denpasar! It was a fairly small airport, but
it sure seemed big in the hot, humid weather, with me pushing my
cart loaded with three huge suitcases around. I looked for the
Transfer Desk, as instructed at JFK, but it turns out there
wasn't one there. I had to have my luggage held for me in the
public locker service. Thank goodness everything is cheap
there -- at least, to those from developed economies.
I hadn't packed an overnighter, so I had to make do in my long
sleeved shirt and jeans. The man at the hotel counter booked me a
room in La Walon Bungalows for 200,000 Rupiah -- about US$20.
The taxi ride cost me 20,000 Rp. And the taxi driver couldn't go
into the little narrow Poppies Gang One where the lodging was, so
I had to walk quite a ways in the horrid heat. The lady at the
reception desk/hut was helpful, and a man took up my backpack
upstairs, then brought me a towel.
The room was quite bare. It had a bed, with two small side tables
with shelving in the corners of the room. The bed had two sheets
to sleep between, and that was it. No mattress pad, no blanket,
though anyone asking for a blanket would've been crazy. The room
had AC, but it dripped, and the ceiling fan chilled too much. The
sheet was just perfect.
There was a built-in wooden wardrobe in the area by the bathroom
door. The bathroom was huge, but it had no fixtures other than
the bare minimum -- bathtub, sink, and toilet. There wasn't even
a peg to hang the towel on. I quickly stripped off my clothes and
rinsed myself off.
I lay down on the bed for a while until the sun went down, as I
didn't want to go out in the oppressive heat. I figured that even
with the humidity, evening would be a little better. Once I saw
the sky beginning to darken, I put on my clothes and stepped
outside, to go do a bit of shopping.
I found a green $5 sundress (which, I found later, bleeds like a
headwound), and $6 flipflops, black ones with little beaded
flowers along the straps (cute!). I also got myself some shampoo
and antiseptic soap, plus some cold medicine. I went back to my
room and changed into my new rags, and felt much better.
Dinner was in one of the restaurants on the Poppies Gang -- I
had chicken satay. Yummy. I couldn't finish it -- my stomach was
in nervous knots, I think -- but it was quite good.
I did not sleep well, though. I kept thinking about the
mosquitoes. And bed bugs. And lice. I shouldn't have read the
Lonely Planet Guide to Indonesia before going to bed.
Checking out of the hotel and getting to the airport the next
morning went very smoothly. I collected my luggage (again),
went through security (again), and checked in to my final leg
of my journey on Merpati Nusantara Airlines.
I wandered about the airport a while, trying to find something
decent to eat, as I had to take my anti-malaria pill. I got a
couple of sandwiches and orange juice, gobbled, and took the
pill in the "Executive Lounge." Whoo hoo! (Actually, it wasn't
horribly exciting.)
Merpati's flight was delayed, but having read Lonely Planet, I
knew to expect it ("We're Merpati, and we'll fly if we want
to...") -- at least, it wasn't cancelled! When our flight was
finally called (thank goodness! There were smokers
everywhere), we all piled into a bus that took us to the
airplane. I was surprised to see so many people waiting to go
to Dili. What were they going there for? A few of them lived
in Dili (I talked to one of them), but I'm sure they were not
the majority.
Before September 1999, Dili was just another domestic
destination in Indonesia. Once the popular consultation ended,
and Indonesia's People's Consultative Assembly approved the
results, East Timor became independent, and the Denpasar-Dili
route was suddenly an international flight, just like that. I'm
wondering whether that was the reason for our long bus ride to
our plane.
The flight seemed long. The flight attendant served refreshments,
but what seemed like flat orange soda was kinda icky, and I asked
for water instead. I had a bit of pastry, but otherwise, I wasn't
hungry. I filled out an immigration/customs form from UNTAET,
which I found amusing.
We landed in Dili without problems. I had my seatbelt off as soon
as the light was turned off, and the gentleman behind me kindly
took my backpack out of the overhead bin. I saw the light from
the outside beyond the galley, and peeked out, but when I saw
that they had not brought over the steps yet, I stepped back
immediately, embarassed.
We finally got off the plane. It was hot -- hotter than in
Denpasar, if that's possible. The man who helped me with my
bag led the way to the terminal, and I blindly followed.
Immigration was both simple and more complicated than I had
expected. They asked for me to show them my letter of
appointment from New York. After some consultation, instead of
stamping my Laissez-Passer, the East Timor Immigration officer
gave me a visa for 90 days in my Japanese passport. She seemed
new -- the guy was giving her instructions. I was told to go to
UNTAET's Travel Section when I got my mission identification.
After waiting for what seemed like hours, the luggage was
unloaded and claimed, and after some more time, we went through
Customs (where they went into my suitcases -- fine by me, if
they want to see my underwear, they're welcome to see it!), then
through the lobby. A couple of people came up to me asking
whether I needed taxi service, but I wasn't sure whether there
was anyone from the mission waiting for me.
Thank goodness (and thank Alissar) there was! Xavier and Claudio
from the Office of the Principal Legal Advisor (OPLA), where I
was assigned, were patiently waiting for me. I was one of the
last to come out, and later they told me they were worried I
had not arrived. Xavier was holding a little sign with my name on
it. I used to think having someone with a sign with my name on
it waiting for me would be embarassing, but to a very tired
Takako, who had just arrived in a strange new place on the other
side of the world after 48 hours of travelling, it was a most
welcome sight.
They helped me with my luggage, along with a Timorese boy, who
got $1 for his trouble. We piled my bags into the big white car
with "UN" written in black on the sides. I'd only seen UN cars in
photographs. To be climbing into one, knowing I could even get a
license to drive one, was so surreal, it's a miracle I managed to
get into the car in one piece without forgetting anything.
They took me to the Amos, a.k.a. 'the Boat.' It was just like the
pictures Alissar showed me. A few more Timorese boys came and
each took a suitcase over his shoulder and carried it across the
bridge, and they each got $1 for their work. We brought the
suitcases into the 'lobby', where I checked in as Xavier and
Claudio stood by. We said we will meet again later once I've had
a chance to clean up and get a little more settled.
The room was Small. The entirety of the Amos is a collection of
containers divided into little staterooms, with bunk beds built
into the walls. There was a tiny head, with a vacuum type
toilet (the kind one finds on airplanes), a sink, and a rather
icky-looking shower. The showerhead was orange with rust. I knew
not to brush my teeth with the tap water already, but the water's
yellow tinge confirmed it.
I unpacked most of my clothes and laid them on the top bunk,
figuring I could use it as a 'closet' if I closed the curtains.
I took my shower, which barely qualified as running water -- more
like dragging-its-feet-behind-it water. It was like showering in
the rain.
After arranging things to my temporary satisfaction, I changed
clothes and went outside. I thought we had agreed on meeting
outside the UNTAET building, under the big blue sign, but I had
misunderstood -- Xavier and Claudio had thought they would come
fetch me at the Amos. We finally did find each other, and they
took me to the OPLA office, which was in one of the temporary
pre-fabricated buildings in the courtyard of the Governor's
Building. They call them Kobe houses, after the fact that these
had been used in Kobe after the major earthquake there. I
thought that was funny. (The name, not the earthquake.)
After a swing around the office of Johan van Lamoen, the
Principal Legal Advisor (and hence my boss -- he wasn't in,
though), Xavier and Hiro, one of the OPLA lawyers, took me
across the street to Acait Bistro. I had a sandwich and a Coke,
a refreshingly pedestrian meal after having travelled so much in
the past two days, which really seemed like four. Xavier wasn't
hungry yet, and Hiro had an upset stomach, so I gobbled my
sandwich and we talked about this and that. They were both
quite friendly.
I spent the rest of the evening in my room, fiddling with my
belongings and finding that the TV can get CNN, HBO, and a
couple of channels broadcasting in languages I didn't
understand. I had CNN on as background noise as I read some
more about Indonesia, East Timor, and Australia, and finally
rolled into bed.
The next day, Saturday, I swung by OPLA and asked Xavier which
way Johan's office was again. He took me, as he wanted to see
the man as well. We caught him on his way out of the office, and
we met briefly. I spent the rest of the day alternately sleeping
and reading, eating lunch but not dinner, figuring I should get
as much rest in as possible. I spent Sunday morning out on the
deck, and read and relaxed in my room the rest of the day.
Then came Monday. Reporting day!
I had to bother Xavier again to learn where I was to go. He took
me to Personnel and dropped me off, and I met with Betty (whose
last name is too long for me to remember precisely), who was the
Personnel Assistant assigned to me. She took me through the
paperwork, and advised that I should perhaps get my ID done
first, which I thought was a great idea.
The "Checking In" process felt a bit daunting at first. Betty
gave me a sheet of paper with some forms. The sheet had a list of
some ten or so offices I had to go visit and from whom I would
obtain signatures. I was quite eager to get through as many of
them as possible on the first day, including Transport and
Communications, which were not in the complex. I managed to get
all but Claims done, because they required that I make a list
of my personal belongings.
After getting done what I could, I returned to OPLA, and met my
'assistant,' Yasmeen, a Pakistani woman Alissar had mentioned she
worked with for a couple months. She seemed to know what she was
doing, which was good, as I was still pretty clueless as to the
state of things.
And the state of things were not very good, to say the least. The
room we were to occupy -- a little portion in the corner of the
Kobe house -- just had two half-empty shelves and boxes of UNTAET
regulations and other things. The books, along with the
bookshelves currently holding them, were still in the previous
office, and would have to be brought later. My computer was
there, but for a while, it seemed my desk had gone AWOL. We
finally found what we think is the desk destined for me, at
which I am sitting at the moment.
I spent Tuesday finishing my checking in, returning the form
triumphantly to Betty with all my signatures filled in. I thought
I could go to the bank, too, but it was too late by the time I
finished, so I had to leave that for Wednesday. I spent the rest
of the day sitting at Hiro's desk, as he was in Darwin for
several days, and Xavier, who sat next to him, said I can use
his computer to check my email. I caught up on my meager
correspondence, and wrapped things up about quarter to six.
Wednesday was bank day, and phone day, too. Dili's
telecommunication infrastructure (what telecommunication
infrastructure?) being what it is, almost all the mission people
have mobile phones, serviced by Telstra, an Australian company.
The mobiles have Australian area codes, which means we are
telephonically in Australia. It costs more to dial someone's
landline in Dili than to call someone in Darwin. Weird, innit?
We also managed to get our books moved to our current office.
I really shouldn't say 'we,' as I didn't do much manual labour.
Timorese workmen came and did most of it. Yasmeen and I put the
books in boxes, and the men got them all into a truck and brought
them over. They were so efficient, we weren't ready for them yet.
Or maybe we weren't being very quick. In any event, everyone was
suddenly looking at me as if I knew what I was doing, and I was
looking at Yasmeen, who I hoped knew what I should do. After some
mild panicking and running around, and a long pause when the
workmen disappeared for a couple hours (turned out they had been
called on another job), most of the books were double-shelved on
the one shelf we had left in the room, two cabinets with drawers
were put next to the bookshelf, and 'my' desk moved in, along
with the computer I'm currently using.
Last night, Yasmeen and her friend Tahir, a Pakistani military
observer, collected me from the Amos and took me out to dinner
at the Other Boat. It was very fancy -- another surreal moment
after spending days up to that moment among more typical
Timorese suroundings. I felt underdressed in my white T-shirt,
green trousers and black sandals. Even more surreal, one of the
other diners was none other than Xanana Gusmao, the Timorese
revolutionary leader and the leading presidential candidate. Even
in a small, not-yet-developed country like East Timor, an elite
develops. I find it more depressing than anything. But, the
conversation with Yasmeen and Tahir was fun, the dinner was
delicious, and the walk along the beach was refreshing. Tahir let
me wear his blue UN beret, and he took a picture of me with it
on. They dropped me off back at the Amos, and I spent the evening
lounging about.
Today is Thursday, and I'm finally starting to feel like there is
a place for me here. A lot of stuff are still in boxes next to
me, my computer's not connected to the network yet (must ask
Yasmeen to follow up for me tomorrow), and we still need another
bookshelf to relieve the doubleshelving. But, all of that will
have to wait until tomorrow. (No, I will NOT quote Gone with the
Wind.)
As I went to lunch today I saw a very vocal mob of Timorese
outside the main entrance into the Governor's Building. In the
general center of the mob there was a man who was holding a big
cloth banner with something written on it from the top edge and
shaking it, like at a football match or something. He wasn't set
apart; he was one of many. A lot of people were standing or
sitting along the front side of the building. I didn't know what
they were worked up about, but I had read in the Security
Handbook that I should not get myself involved in local
demonstrations, so I crossed the street quickly. As I crossed the
street onto the side of the park, there were more people joining
the crowds.
Mobs are scary. I've been in one, after UCLA won the NCAA
Basketball championship in 1995. I wonder if CIVPOL are prepared
with riot gear. I hope they don't have to resort to that.
I'm hearing more yelling outside. Yasmeen just commented about
it. I'm still not sure what the gathering is/was about. If it's
that they're impatient about things getting done, I share it. I
know Anatoli spent a good month or so (I think) not able to find
anything to do. At least I now have my own little corner to sit
in instead of having to play musical chairs sitting at desks
whose owner isn't in. Now, if only the computer guys would come
and get me up and connected....
(I talked to a security man later in the afternoon -- turned out
they were students who had not passed their university exams.
Neither of us were horribly sympathetic. "Just revise and take it
again," the security man said. On the other hand... the fact that
they have the freedom of speech is a wonderful thing.)
To be continued...