East Timor

Travelling in one of the world's youngest nations

I spent Christmas in East Timor this year. I had to leave Indonesia anyway for a “visa run”, so I took the opportunity to see this little-visited country. Earlier this year I got to know an Esperantist from East Timor who invited me to visit his country, so that encouraged me to make the trip.

East Timor is one of the world’s youngest nations. It gained independence in 2002, after 25 years of Indonesian rule. The country is poorly connected and hard to reach. Its capital, Dili, is linked by direct flight to only two cities in the world: Denpasar, in Bali, and Darwin, in Australia. Going from Yogyakarta, it was clear I would have to fly through Bali. Flights to Dili only leave once a day, at 9:30 AM, so I had to spend a night in Bali first.

I stayed in a resort in Kuta, Bali’s party capital, which is also a stone’s throw away from the airport. The next morning I flew to East Timor with an Indonesian airline. On the plane most passengers were Timorese. Their somewhat Melanesian physical traits (dark skin and curly hair) clearly distinguished them from the crew, who were probably from Java or elsewhere in Western Indonesia.

I arrived at Dili’s tiny airport, which only has one gate, and as I stepped off the plane I was immediately struck by the humid heat. It felt hotter than Bali or Java, in spite of all these islands being similarly close to the equator. I paid 30 dollars for a one-month visa on arrival, and outside the airport I was met by my Esperantist friend and another member of the country’s small Esperanto-speaking community.

We took a taxi to my hotel. Once we were inside the cab, my local friend put a tais cloth, a traditional handwoven texture, around my neck as a nice gesture of welcome to East Timor. It turned out to be very lucky I wasn’t travelling alone, because it soon became clear I would be unable to pay for anything. East Timor has not yet entered the era of digital payments. Everything, including the hotel I stayed in, can only be paid for in cash. I’m fine with this, but the issue is that the country’s ATMs only accept Visa and not MasterCard, and I did not have a Visa card on me.

We went to a couple of banks, and we were told that MasterCards just aren’t accepted anywhere in the whole country. In the end I had to transfer some money to the bank account of one of the local Esperantists, and they gave me the equivalent sum in cash. I was given a wad of US dollars. Since it gained independence, East Timor has used the USD as its national currency.

After solving the money situation and checking in to my hotel, I went for a walk around the town centre. Dili is a small city, with just 200,000 people (the whole country has 1.3 million). In many ways it is similar to a provincial town in Eastern Indonesia, but its identity as a national capital gives it a much more cosmopolitan feel. There are foreign embassies, UN development agencies, and a small but visible foreign expat community.

The country’s history as a Portuguese colony is still in evidence in the signs written in Portuguese, the Portuguese restaurants, the large Portuguese embassy sitting just next to the Presidential Palace, and in the fact that the expat community still includes a lot of Portuguese. On my first afternoon in Dili I was taken to hang out in Pateo, an establishment popular with foreigners. The cafe and annexed supermarket are full of Portuguese products and food, and the local staff address all foreign clientele in Portuguese.

A few years ago, on my first trip to Indonesia, I visited West Timor, the Indonesian half of the island. I saw some beautiful places there, but the provincial capital Kupang struck me as a drab, uninviting urban centre, with little to do. Dili is a much more pleasant place to spend time in. It is also walkable, because unlike Kupang and pretty much all Indonesian cities, Dili actually has usable sidewalks. During my stay however the oppressive heat, which would usually last until a tropical thunderstorm arrived like clockwork in late afternoon, made it unpleasant to walk around in daytime.

The lacklustre state of East Timor’s economy was obvious even in the middle of Dili. The sidewalks had potholes and there was a general air of shabbiness about the city. I saw groups of people getting around by standing on the back of trucks. I was warned not to walk around alone at nighttime because there are gangs, based around martial arts clubs, that get into fights in the street. In practice I did walk to places even after dark, but not too late and always in the city centre, and I never felt in any danger.

East Timor is, unsurprisingly, not particularly well set-up for foreign travellers, although in my case things were much easier because I had local friends. Apart from the aforementioned issue with payments, the country has no cab-hailing apps like the ones you can use everywhere in Southeast Asia. There are taxis you can stop in the street, but they did not seem to be that frequent. My hotel offered scooters for rent, but the price (25 USD a day) seemed exorbitant for this part of the world.

By regional standards hotels are somewhat expensive for what they offer, probably due to the relative lack of choice. My 30 USD-a-night hotel had unstable and weak Wifi, which became a problem on my first day, when I had some work to finish on my laptop. I went to a couple of cafes, but they did not have wifi. I tried hotspotting through the local SIM card I had bought at the airport, but the signal wasn’t strong enough. In the end I figured out that if I sat at a certain point on the staircase outside my room, the wifi was just strong enough to do my work.

On my first full day in Dili I went to see the Timorese Resistance Museum, which gives you the Timorese view of the country’s struggle for independence. Admission is a symbolic 1 dollar. There are some displays of the original uniforms and weapons used by the Freitlin guerillas, but most of all there are long explanations, written in Tetum, Portuguese and English, which give you an idea of what went down in this land from 1975 until 2000. It is a grim history that is not very well-known in the rest of the world, although this small country has suffered as much as any.

Timor was first incorporated into Chinese, Indian and Javanese trading networks in the 14th-15th century, due to its precious sandalwood. The Chinese name for the island, 帝汶, dates to this time. Eventually the Europeans arrived, and for three centuries East Timor was a Portuguese colony, although a distant and neglected one. The Portuguese influence on daily life never really extended far outside of Dili, the capital they built. In the mountains that cover most of the island people continued living in their own fashion, with the traditional kings still in place.

In 1974, after a revolution in Portugal brought down Salazar’s regime, Lisbon was finally willing to let go of its colonies. East Timor was essentially abandoned by the Portuguese, and different Timorese parties began vying for control. In 1975 the left-wing Freitlin party, which had gained control after a small scale civil war against the rival UDT, unilaterally declared independence. Ten days later, Indonesia invaded.

Suharto’s right-wing Indonesian regime didn’t like the idea of an independent socialist state being set up anywhere in the archipelago. They were also afraid it would inspire people in neighbouring islands to try and break away from Indonesia. Due to Cold War politics, the US and Australian governments were both ready to turn a blind eye. Ford and Kissinger met with Suharto the day before the invasion, and reportedly expressed their acquiescence. US military aid to Indonesia remained strong in the aftermath.

The Indonesian regime would later try and claim that their invasion of East Timor was an act of “decolonisation”, erasing the artificial border that Portugal and the Netherlands had drawn down the middle of the island. It is true that the divide between East and West Timor is a result of their different colonial histories, but that doesn’t make it any less real. Never having been part of the Dutch East Indies, and with no experience of strong centralised rule, the East Timorese didn’t want to live under an authoritarian regime run by people of a different culture and religion sitting in far-off Jakarta.

The majority of East Timorese strongly resented the Indonesian occupation from the start. The invasion was carried out with extreme brutality, with the Indonesian army massacring civilians on numerous occasions. Falintil, the military wing of Freitlin, fought back but were outnumbered, and they fled into the mountains to continue their resistance. Much of the population of Dili and the coastal strip followed them, fearing for their lives.

In 1977 the Indonesian army waged an appallingly brutal campaign against the guerrillas, bombing the central regions of the island with chemical weapons and napalm to destroy the crops and make the area uninhabitable. The campaign was effective in breaking the resistance and weakening Falintil. Many of the civilians who had fled to those areas were forced to come down from the mountains and surrender to the Indonesians, or face starvation. Some were executed, others were put in concentration camps.

Over the following years horrible human rights abuses continued, with torture, rape, forced sterilisation and disappearance being visited upon Timorese suspected of supporting the resistance. Credible estimates talk about a total of 200,000 victims, in a territory that only had 600,000 people when Indonesia took over. Censorship in Suharto’s “New Order” Indonesia ensured that most Indonesians had no idea about any of this.

There was certainly some economic development and an expansion of education and healthcare under Indonesian rule, but migrants from other parts of Indonesia were the main beneficiaries of the economic growth, creating even more resentment. Meanwhile the country’s sandalwood was depleted by illegal logging from the Indonesian army. The Portuguese language was also banned in the territory, while Indonesian became the language used for all official purposes.

A massacre of over 200 protestors in Dili in 1992 put the issue of East Timor in the international spotlight. Then in 1996, in a huge embarrassment for Indonesia, the Nobel Peace prize was awarded to two East Timorese, a bishop and an exiled independence fighter. Still, things would only change when Suharto was forced to abdicate in 1998.

His successor, B.J. Habibie, unexpectedly conceded a referendum to East Timor in 1999, allowing its people to choose between a plan for autonomy and complete independence. 78.5% of East Timorese chose independence, showing quite clearly where their hearts lay. In the weeks before and after the referendum local pro-Indonesian militias killed scores of people, with the complicity of the Indonesian army.

The occupation ended as it had started, with a bloodbath, but finally it ended. Indonesia withdrew its troops, and a UN peacekeeping force led by Australia took over. Timorese who had supported Indonesia were forced to flee the country, usually going to West Timor. In 2002, the new country officially became a UN member. The UN peacekeeping mission remained until 2012, and there was another bout of violence in 2006, due to a rebellion by members of the military complaining of regional discrimination.

Today East Timor has become a stable and fully independent country, something that its people can be proud of. The economy remains quite underdeveloped, however. Subsistence farming is still common, and the urbanization rate is one of the world’s lowest. According to IMF figures, East Timor’s per capita GDP at purchasing power parity is the lowest in Southeast Asia and one of the lowest in Asia, falling considerably below Nepal, Myanmar and Cambodia.

The country’s economy is extremely dependent on its oil and natural gas reserves, especially the oil fields lying off its southern coast. In fact, East Timor relies on oil exports more than almost any other country in the world. This is not because the country has massive oil reserves, but because the rest of the economy is tiny.

The oil is extracted mainly by Australian companies, but East Timor receives a share of the profits, which go into a sovereign wealth fund that covers most of the government’s spending. Oil has failed to bring widespread prosperity or modernise the economy however, just as it has failed in many other countries endowed with it, and the reserves are starting to dry up.

After leaving the museum, I and my Esperantist friend walked to the seafront and sat on the wall overlooking the sea, opposite the Presidential Palace. It was late afternoon, and there were lots of people chatting, jogging and relaxing. I was reminded somewhat of the Malecon in Havana, Cuba. Perhaps it was the humid heat, the Iberian-style presidential palace, the relative lack of economic development and the unhurried pace of life that made me think of the Caribbean island.

My friend told me a bit about himself. He comes from a village south of Dili. His parents never went to school. His father was in the resistance, and when he was a very young child his father would only come and visit when the army was not around. He has gone to university and works in Dili, but he still dreams of emigrating. In East Timor the salaries are low and there are few opportunities, he said.

I asked him if most East Timorese still resent Indonesia, and I was told that there are no bad feelings anymore. While the country seems to happily embrace its Portuguese colonial heritage, the Indonesian influence is also very visible in East Timor, from the cheap restaurants which always serve Indonesian fare, to the Indonesian language that’s still spoken fluently by everyone, including those educated after independence.

East Timor’s linguistic situation is quite interesting. The country has two official languages, Portuguese and Tetum. After independence it was decided to make Portuguese official, in spite of the fact few actually spoke it. Years of teaching in Portuguese in schools have made a difference, and educated young people now have competency in the language.

The other official language, Tetum, is the lingua franca throughout the country. It is in fact a form of one of the island’s native Austronesian languages which developed in Dili under colonial rule. It contains so many Portuguese loan words that I could often guess the meaning of things written in the language. Greetings are always said in Portuguese in Dili (bom dia, bom tarde), and thank you is always obrigado. Interestingly, the word for foreigner is malae, since historically foreigners in Timor would speak Malay.

Tetum coexists with around 20 to 30 local languages, belonging to two different language families and often quite different from each other. On top of that, as already mentioned, the entire population seems to know Indonesian. The young still watch Indonesian television and know the language. My knowledge of Indonesian turned out to be a useful asset to get around. I found it curious that people always seem to say numbers above ten in Indonesian, even when speaking to each other in Tetum.

As you can see, the Timorese are a multilingual lot. Your average person will speak one or two local languages, Tetum, Indonesian, and possibly Portuguese. Of course a few people will also know English on top of that.

On my second night in Dili I was taken to a concert on the waterfront. Local bands played on stage, while stands sold food and drink and people stood around and chatted. It seemed like half the city was there. After the concert ended I saw current Prime Minister, former freedom fighter and local legend Xanana Gusmão sitting near the stage.

There were some security guards nearby, but there was nothing to stop anyone walking up to the man. Members of the public were taking turns greeting him and taking photos with him. I also went and took a photo with the bearded hero. I guess East Timor is a small country, and meeting the Prime Minister is not all that difficult. Soon afterwards I was introduced to a man in uniform who is the head of East Timor’s special forces, or so I was told.

Atauro

The following day, I woke up early to travel to Atauro. Located 20 kms north of Dili, the island of Atauro is clearly East Timor’s crown jewel in terms of tourism. It’s a small island with only 10,000 residents, but it has incredible biodiversity and some of the world’s richest coral reefs, and a tourist industry is developing around snorkelling and diving.

There are both a ferry and a speedboat that go to Atauro from Dili. I woke up early to go to the docks and take the speedboat, which leaves at 8 AM. The dock was crowded and chaotic. Tickets one way cost 10 dollars for locals and 25 for foreigners, but luckily I was going with one of my Esperantist friends, and she bought the tickets using her ID card, so I got the local price.

Tourism to East Timor is in its infancy, but out of the few travellers who make it to this country, nearly all go to Atauro. The trip is worthwhile. The island looks like I imagine Phuket or Kho Samui must have looked 50 years ago: an idyllic bit of tropical paradise which tourists are only beginning to discover, while the locals still lead simple, unhurried lives.

The seawater around the island is some of the clearest I have ever seen. Even when standing in water up to my neck, I could see the rocks and sand under my feet very clearly. On the beach near the dock there is a strip with small open-air restaurants and a market. There were a few foreign visitors walking around alongside the locals, but not many, and certainly nowhere you could describe as a “tourist trap”. We stopped and had a meal of extremely fresh local fish and delicious coconut rice wrapped in banana leaves for just a few dollars.

In the market there were local women, some in traditional dress, selling large and eye-catching tropical fish. My local friend told me that on Atauro most of the locals are Protestant, which is unusual in East Timor. They were evangelised by a Dutch missionary in the early 20th century. The idyllic island was used as a prison by both the Portuguese and Indonesian administrations.

Maubisse

On the 24th I went to Maubisse, a historic market town deep in the mountains that is a popular vacation spot for people from Dili, who go there to get away from the capital’s heat and enjoy the mountain scenery. I drove there with another one of my local Esperantist friends, on his motorbike. The drive took about 2 or 3 hours. As we drove up into the hills, the weather became less intensely hot.

We took turns driving along the mountain roads. There was little traffic, so it wasn’t very difficult, although I had to watch out for parts of the road where the asphalt suddenly became uneven. The road we were driving on was built a few years ago, and apparently the old one used to be in a much worse state and take longer. We stopped for lunch in the town of Aileu, in a cheap roadside restaurant serving tasty Indonesian dishes. It was the only place we could find open on Christmas Eve.

After lunch we powered on to Maubisse, driving through some lush mountain scenery. Once we arrived, we made our way to the Poussada de Maubisse, a Portuguese colonial building which sits atop the highest hill in the area. Apparently it used to function as a guesthouse until recently, although it looked abandoned. From the hill, you get great views of the town and surrounding area.

From above, the most impressive building in Maubisse was definitely the cathedral, which towered above the simple houses with tin roofs that made up the town. I had already noticed in the Moluccas how every village has a church or mosque that looks grand and opulent compared to all the other buildings, and here it was the same. I voiced this thought and my friend, who is not particularly religious, agreed with me.

East Timor’s fervent Catholicism is actually quite a recent phenomenon. Under Indonesian rule everyone was required to choose between one of six officially recognised religions to put on their IDs, just like everywhere in Indonesia. Catholicism had made inroads under the Portuguese, but when Indonesia invaded most of the population followed traditional animist beliefs and weren’t Catholic. Even so, most East Timorese chose Catholicism out of the six options available, and this resulted in mass conversions and baptisms.

By the time the Indonesians left, most East Timorese considered themselves Catholics. I wondered why people didn’t just pretend to be Catholic while continuing to follow their tradition, and my friend said that actually many do. He pointed at a building on the peak of a hill nearby, and said it was a traditional place of worship that is still in use.

After going back into town, we walked through the market, where people from neighbouring villages come together to trade. It’s at its busiest in the mornings, but in late afternoon it was still quite lively.

As we were riding back to Dili, it suddenly started pouring with rain. The afternoon thunderstorm had arrived. We stopped at the first building we found, the house of a local family. The owners, who had lots of young children, warmly welcomed us into their big but very simple home. We spent over an hour there, waiting for the rain to die down. At one point one of the children ran outside in the pouring rain to retrieve one of the family’s goats.

As we waited to get back on the road, we started chatting about the situation in the Middle East. My friend, an intellectual who teaches at Dili’s university, said he could not sympathise with Hamas, because he was repulsed by its targeting of Israeli civilians. He said that Timorese freedom fighters would only ever target enemy soldiers, but never Indonesian civilians, even when they lived in East Timor.

He also pointed out that when the East Timorese were under occupation they never received any money or attention from the international community. The Palestinians, on the other hand, receive plenty of funding from the UN and other sources, and Hamas seems to spend most of it on attacking Israel, rather than creating a future for its people. Later on, as we drove through Dili, he pointed to an Indonesian military cemetery, and said that not a single East Timorese has ever desecrated it since independence.

That evening, back in Dili, I went out for a stroll and I noticed throngs of people, dressed in their best clothes, all walking in the same direction, so I joined in. It turned out everyone was going to the church on the waterfront, where the Christmas Eve mass was being held. The church was already full, but thousands of people were standing outside in silent prayer. I am certainly no Catholic, but the scene was rather memorable. Much of the city was probably standing there.

The next day was Christmas, and the entire city was shut down, as people celebrated with their families. The following day things started to open up again, but I was leaving on the 27th. On my last morning in the country, one of my Esperantist friends found the time to take me to visit Cristo Rei, Dili’s premier tourist attraction. It is a colossal statue of Jesus, built on a cape overlooking the city.

The statue was unveiled in 1996. It was in fact commissioned by the Suharto regime, and intended as a gift to commemorate the 20th anniversary of East Timor’s incorporation into Indonesia. At the time the independence movement was scathing of this “gift”, with Xanana Gusmao, then in prison in Jakarta, calling it propaganda. After independence, however, the statue was turned into a tourist attraction, and the East Timorese have now embraced it as their own.

The statue sits at the top of a hill, a 15 minute scooter ride from the city. We went there in early morning, before the heat really kicked in. The path up to the statue passes 14 monuments symbolising the 14 stations of the cross, each with the name of the station written in Indonesian and English. We encountered some locals jogging and exercising. We walked all the way to the top, and the views of the city and the sea from under the statue were quite something.

We drove back to the city, stopped at a cafe to get some Portuguese-style breakfast, and then it was time for me to go and take my flight back to Bali. My friend’s brother gave me a lift to the airport in his car. The kindness of my local Esperanto-speaking friends had certainly made my trip to East Timor far more memorable.