Boas Festas!

With home under 20 inches of snow, I spent my Chistmas in warmer circumstances. Wonderful company, beautiful food, and pod after pod of dolphins.



Happy holidays and feliz tinan foun!

Photo/Video credit: Thor

Flashback: Maubisse to Dili Roadrace

Talking with my sister via Skype I realized that I never told to story of the bike race, and that my family have only heard bits and pieces, primarily that I fell off. It was much more glorious than that, so some retroactive blogging is in order:

My friend Boatshoe and I were brought together because of three things, rugby, prom dresses (or more accurately, rugby in prom dresses) and bikes. When it turned out that she would be coming though Timor-Leste en route to New Zealand (via Japan, Cambodia, India, UK, Spain, Indonesia no sst.), and I realized that I could offer neither polyester or a pitch, bikes it was.

The race was organized to promote peace. Banners up around Dili featured a leggy, peddling dove and slogans about racial harmony and national unity. This is has been one of a series of public events aimed at rebuilding community cohesion and organized with the support of the Office of the President. The walk and concert on Saturday (22/12) are the next on the list.



With Boatshoe and L onboard, and Vulgar agreeing to be our support man/menu advisor/pit crew boss, we headed out to Maubisse. I packed myself into the back of the ute with the bikes, turned up the Stones, and counted the up- and down-hills with growing comprehension of my total lack of preparedness.

Maubisse sits high in the center of Timor-Leste, and really, that is still all I know about it. We arrived at the posada after dark, just as the rains came. And the scene was Timor-strange: I have never seen so many people carrying large weapons* next to so many people jumping around in bike helmets. At night. In the rain. The perpetually/prematurely be-helmed we dubbed “Team Helmet.”**

At about four in the morning Team Hemet was up running a lap around the posada. The toilet that we were sleeping behind was coming to life, and the Australian ISF started breaking down their metal cots; there was no going back to sleep. Boatshoes shook the president’s hand, and then it was time to make a move for Dili.



The race started with a slow and steady climb, then a series of long down-hills looking over a river valley patched with rice fields.

Through Aileu (doing fine…) and Bam! I took a turn too wide, braked to avoid the motorbike (and a cow), and bit the pavement. I got back on, amidst fortifying shouts of “Motor salah!” (“It’s the motorbike’s fault”) and tootled down the rest of the hill before assessing the damage. My back wheel was potato-chipped, and I had a few minor scrapes. Some bike swaps later, the three of us were on the road and securely in the back of the pack.

In the rear, with Team Helmet long gone, the stragglers – malae hotu-hotu – moaned our way up the hills. Boatshoe, with nothing to prove, joined Vulgar, and as we rolled by they’d serenade us with harmonica duets of Queen’s “Bicycle, Bicycle” from the bed of the Hilux.

Sixty-five kilometers, and four-plus hours later, L and I pulled in at the Indonesian-era gates welcoming people to descend to Dili. I passed my bike off to Boatshoe, ostensibly to let her glide gamely into the capital – a gesture she easily understood as coming from my exhaustion of being absolutely terrified on the steep hairpin turns.

To her unending credit, Boatshoe completed the worst uphill and the nastiest down-hill sections of the race. She was also the race’s only cyclist to wear flip-flops. Kudos, kudos.

Back in Dili the PA system was being packed away at the Palacio and the fanfare over the winner, who had made it in 2.5 hours – on par with a car – had probably already showered and watched the evening news. Kudos, kudos.

I want to do it again. To do it on my bike, to do it knowing what to expect, to do it after a good night’s sleep and a few weeks of sensible training. But that would be to ride it well, to make good time. What we did was truly a peace ride: at peace with taking up the rear, at peace with hurting for a week after, and accepting that sometimes the only thing to do is drop into the lowest gear and keep creeping forward, hoping things will get easier around the next bend.



* The large police contingent was in part due to the presence of the president at the posada,

** The majority of Timorese riders had matching bikes and helmets, suggesting significant and admirable sponsorship. These was also some great justice to it all, as it was finally the malaes who were stuck at the back dealing with equipment malfunctions.

Photos: Heading out from Dili. Bottom - Vulgar and Boatshoe before starting the race.

Going postal

Sometimes it jumps into focus that living here has shifted my perspective of the ordinary, and perhaps in unwelcome ways. Reading the below security briefing my first thought was: how the heck do they have a mailman?

On Monday afternoon, a 12 year old boy, was seriously injured by a mailman wielding a machete, in Wailili - Waturou de Baixo, Baucau's District. The victim was admitted to Baucau Hospital and the suspect has been arrested. The investigation into the incident is continuing.


Photo: A panoramic view of Dili from the Dare orphanage. Please click to enlarge.

The races.

No mint juleps to be found.

To the races...

Dilligence - always the gentleman - complimented my race day ensemble. I'll post a few snaps before the day is out.

Also on the docket: Dili to Maubisse bike race. Biting the dust, eating dust. A beautiful, occasionally terrifying ride, and a tremendous entree to Timor's coffee country. Below: The starting line.

Under the Weather

As I stood in front of the refrigerator using a pair of scissors to butter my bread, I realized that with L off to Australia, I have been doing things a bit differently.

More podcasts at breakfast, and more staying up late. Meals blur into each other; I haven’t heard the song about “having a beer with Duncan” in four days; I’ve even been neglecting to put up the bug net (it’s much easier with help).

I’ve also been a bit under the weather, a combination of an infection requiring antibiotics and a few headaches preceded by blurred vision and enlarged ‘blind spots.’ No emergencies. However, despite having been in the country for over a year, this was the first time that I needed a doctor, and it became clear that even for those with resources, doctors can be difficult to come by.*

The Australian doctor has been out of town, and I called a dozen friends trying to reach the Portuguese doctor or get the number for Dr. Dan at the Bairro Pite clinic.

I ended up speaking with Dr. Dan, and he texted me the right dosage of antibiotics. I went to the clinic meet with him, but, after briefly taking a seat on one of the benches, I closed my book, slid out and returned to work. The woman sitting in front of me was still turning the pages of newspaper slowly, unhurriedly; it would have been a long wait.

I did not consider going to the National Hospital. My experience there has been limited to observing the work of the mobile voting unit in the in June parliamentary elections. Then, as now, refugees had established communities in the courtyards between the buildings. There are animals and small shops and cooking fires, all amongst the wards. The hospital, airport and perhaps Metinaro, with its ability to cut off access between Dili and Baucau, arguably remain the most concerning camps in terms of critical infrastructure.

On Cipro and back on track, I’m taking this time to slow down and do my thing. From self observation, this appears to involve going to yoga class and then spending the rest of the day in my stretchy pants reading, eating, reading, and listening to NPR. I’m now off – or up – to Dare for the rest of the week. And I am sure that the cool air is just what the doctor ordered.



* UN employees have access to the UN clinic.
Photos: Top - Work on the sidewalks on Comoro road, near Tiger Fuel. Bottom - Customs house.

Amongst the Silver Taxis

The car died for the third time in the middle of Bairro Pite. The AC was already off to coax the absentee engine to push us the rest of the way up Hudi Laran. We sat low in the seats, waiting to start rolling again.

A ‘97 Nissan, it wasn’t a bad car, but considering that we were stopped in the center of the road, sweating, I thought that $5,500 was a bit high. And $4,000 was a bit high for the matte black Mitsubishi Lancer with no wheels; and $5,000 was too steep for the red Lancer parked behind the Chinese restaurant that revved and shook like a bull terrier as I leaned in to check the mileage.

Dili is an ibun ba ibun (word of mouth, lit: mouth to mouth) kind of place. The good deals are to be found through friends and work-mates, through the vulture’s-luck of someone rushing off to Nepal or Geneva or Afghanistan. One has to get out of the mainstream. It was with this in mind that I gambled on my landlord’s friend and won a Saturday idling in the Nissan, squinting down dusty streets.

L and I have been searching for a car since I got back. On the weekends we have donned bike helmets, filled water bottles and peddled to the various Singaporean and Japanese dealerships and checked out the message boards in Lita and Landmark. It feels dorky shopping for a car via bike – we must look hot and desperate, which is not far from the truth. And the dealers can tell. Dead meat from the start.

So today, when we finally bought the car, there wasn’t the euphoria of getting a super deal. The seller simply said ‘no’ as we stuttered and lied through our various ‘negotiating strategies,’ finally handing over the asking price in thick bundles of soiled tens and twenties. At least he could have pretended to give us a break; take pity on the cyclists!

With the car I’ll be able to attend yoga class, visit friends and get to Landmark on yogurt expiration day (super deals!). Most importantly, the car means mobility after dark, and we’ll be able to go out on nights when neither of us can eat more of Sunday’s dhal. Life will be more independent and flexible. I will drink to that tonight.

This is my first car.


Postscript: In the end, the car is nothing flash: small and silver, ready to join the schools of Dili taxis. This is camouflaging strategy. At the other end of the spectrum is armoring; a ute I rode in this weekend had metal grills on the side windows and a windscreen of bulletproof glass so thick that it warped the road. Impenetrable, cocksure.

However, I think that L brought up a good point: What happens if you lock your keys in the car?



Photo: Modified from HHH forward. Ta.

FOS: You Win

I'm back after a month in 'Merica.

I've actually been back long enough to have my generator catch fire, watch the boat catch fire, travel with a pig back from Viqueque, visit the nuns, count whales, start a new job, move into a new home... just not long enough to get online.* Thank you FOS for the shove.

*This was also made clear when I had no idea that the Boston Red Sox had won the World Series. I fear my Massachusetts driver's liscence is going to be revoked.

Flag Day

The Palacio was looking swish yesterday. The flags were up, and, presumably, the government was getting underway. Parliamentarians have begun a UN-led training workshop, and new committees and a new budget are on the horizon.

Following the parliamentary elections I did some number crunching to get at the question: What has changed?

In my view, these are the three major points:
1. Consolidation: Half of the parties represented in the outgoing body will not have seats and there are fewer parties overall.
2. FRETILIN's Losses: The strength of returning parties has shifted, and, in the case of FRETILIN, dramatically.
3. Rise of New Parties: The three parties new to parliament will hold a third of the seats.

These are expanded upon below and more fully illustrated with the pie charts that I posted on 3 August. To refresh, this is the 2007-2012 seat configuration: FRETILIN 21, CNRT 18, ASDT/PSD 11, PD 8, PUN 3, KOTA/PPT 2, and UNDERTIM 2.

- There has been a 42 % reduction in the number of parties/coalitions represented in Parliament. To reduce of the number of small parties was one of the main reasons for using the 3 % threshold, and it succeeded in knocking out PNT and PDRT. Without the threshold the results would have been FRETILIN 21, CNRT 17, ASDT/PSD 10, PD 8, PUN 3, KOTA/PPT 2, UNDERTIM 2, PNT 1, and PDRT 1.

- PDC, PL, PNT, PST, UDT, and UDC will no longer have seats in parliament. These were small parties, together holding nine seats (10% of the 88-seat parliament). Of these six parties, PL and UDC did not field candidates in the 2007 election. There no independent members in the 2007-2012 body.

- The breakdown of seats among the reelected parties has shifted, the clearest example being the loss of seats by FRETILIN. In the last parliament, FRETILIN controlled 61.4 %. In the new parliament, they will hold 32.3 % of the seats.

- The changes are subtler for the other parties. Both PD and the ASDT/PSD coalition slightly increased their shares of parliamentary seats. PD has gained a seat, and the party will now control 12.3 % of the body, up from 7.9 %.

- As a coalition, ASDT and PSD (each of which held six seats in the 2002 body) lost a seat. However, because of the reduction of parliament to 65 seats, the coalition will control 16.9 %, up from 13.6 %.

- The strength of KOTA and PPT, which each held two seats in the outgoing parliament, has been reduced somewhat. In the new parliament, they will share two seats – a reduction in control from 4.6 % to 3.1 %.

- Of the three parties new to the parliament, PUN and CNRT were only formed in 2007. UNDERTIM was established in 2005. The implication is that these parties do not have as developed networks, identities and teams as more established groups. These new parties now control over one third of parliament.

The 2007 elections are behind us; let's see if this new parliament can get down to work and do some good. Bona fortuna!

Total Eclipse

At night Dili is dark. The streetlights are few, and, looking up into the hills around the city, electric lights are outnumbered by small fires. In the evenings, the moon first emerges from behind the radio towers.

Tuesday was a total eclipse, an event visible, according to NASA from “the United States and Canada as well as South America, the Pacific Ocean, western Asia and Australia.” I looked up diagrams on Sydney observatory and NASA sites, called Mustang, and packed up my spotting scope. That evening we threw down towels and sarongs on her little lawn in Tasi Tolu and stretched out for a look.

I have watched lunar eclipses before; the last one was on 21 October 2004 – a date that was easy to confirm, as it corresponded with the Red Sox’s game-seven victory against the Yankees and the sudden, delirious eruption of Providence onto the streets beneath my dorm’s terrace.

Mustang and I were getting into it, trying to see if parts were getting darker or lighter, talking about Valkyries and musical theater and listening to unforgivable karaoke coming from her neighbor’s house.

Then the banging started. First a steady thump on a pole at some distance, but then echoed on another metal post, closer. A sign of trouble. Upon arrival it was drilled into me that if people start to close shops and if there is rhythmic banging, get the heck out of there. We looked around, saw some kids rushing indoors, grabbed the blankets and hustled inside.

It turned out that there was nothing to be concerned about. This is how it was later explained to me: Some people believe that when the moon turns red, and begins to fade, that it is dying. They hit buckets and bang poles to ‘drum’ it back to life, for, if the moon dies, it will fall into the sea and bring about the end of the world.

On Tuesday, across the city and perhaps the country, people made noise to convince the moon to not give up. Dili is not like New York or London or Jakarta – the night sky is close and clear. The moon lights many streets more consistently than the power stations. Not forewarned and armed with NASA diagrams, I imagine that the rusting of the moon felt unsettling, eerie or at least worth a look. A friend confirmed the latter when told me that she saw two men emerge from brothel just to take a quick peek.

Bon Voyage

At the end of the week I head out for about a month - my first trip home in a year. I am estatic to see everyone as well as for my brief stops along the way. With a public holiday on Thursday, I have only three days left of work. Counting down...

Flour Power

This takes the cake:

Have your cake and eat it too?
Let them eat cake?

Three cheers for the brilliant baker of Beach Road.

Breathing in Bali (Photos added)

Once Dili gets under your skin, sunk into your imagination and concerns, it can be hard to shake. I think my sister understands that; upon leaving she said that Bali was beautiful - green rice paddies, rushing water, and frangiopani flowers - but that going to Timor-Leste had been special.

I took Jess straight up to Ubud. It has a bit of a hippie vibe - lots of wheatgrass colonics and dangling power crystals - and yoga classes. My first was a bit funny. The teacher, who wore reading glasses and flared, corn-flower blue spandex pants, said that it would be a "gentle class," and we spent the first 10 minutes breathing in and out while trying to follow her sweeping, unpredictable gestures.

Inhale (arms up), exhale (arms down), inhale (finger into a triangle around the belly button), exhale (raise the triangle to the nose), inhale (one arm up, the other out), exhale (arms behind), etc, etc.

I am glad Jess opted for a run instead - I wouldn't have been able to keep a straight face as I flailed for the sake of my neglected chakras.

Perhaps more beneficial for my inner health, however, was a long evening siting cross-legged on the couches of an open organic cafe with Jess, dipping bites of bittersweet chocolate cake into our cappuccinos. We did lots of walking and window shopping, talked easily.

I am back in Kuta now, and with my sister already back in the States, I feel ready to get back to the quotidian: Starco, Tetum, tomatoes on toast (Jess's and my favorite "hmmm, let's just stay in tonight" dinner), porch sitting, and taking care of my laundry. I feel ready to get back to work and back into the loop. The yoga teacher, inhale, would say that detachment isn't my strong suit. Exhale.

Dili Update

Jess has come to Timor-Leste at a difficult time. At the beginning of the week evidence of roadblocks and unrest was more visible and closer to me than it had ever been in March. The Customs House looks terrible.

Today and yesterday have been much calmer, and the UNPOL, ISF and GNR are on all major roads. Although things may be getting on track, we decided to head to Bali on Sunday, a bit earlier than expected.

Things were already heating up before Jess arrived. I was rocked for the first time at the end of July; it hit my door – very loudly – right after I rolled my window back down. The road was pitch dark and empty, and we just kept moving. I told my companion that it was a meteorite.

I didn’t anticipate things deteriorating as they did. Upon picking Jess up from the airport I took pains to point out the dark pocks on the road, shadows left of burnt tires (a Reading the Forested Landscape for urban unrest). Wasted breath! Doubly so, as she was already totally distracted by a knot of baby goats.*

I am not sure if she has felt unsafe. Some of it has been absurd: on Tuesday morning, clear and tropics bright, we walked past My Fali food center and saw a young guy dragging eucalyptus branches into the street through tire ash and glass. Once he was about half way across, a GNR patrol came gunning towards him, and he zipped back into the IDP camp. As soon as the patrol passed he popped back out. All the people hanging around seemed amused by his beaver-like drive to close off the road.

Nights feel different, and the toughest time for me was after pilates in Balide on Tuesday. As soon as I was up off the mat I started calculating the four different ways home – balancing directness against recent reports of problems. Both Jess and I understand that she’s flying blind, and on the porch, squinting out at the road, I kept thinking about if we caught a rock on the route I’d picked. These decisions become much harder when a person you love so much is your passenger.

I think that we’re out of the woods. And in some ways this is a useful time for a family member to visit. She has been able to see that when headlines shout “Dili is Burning!” we can still be drinking green wine under the stars, that friends check in on each other, and that I there is always verdant Bali if things in Timor-Leste get too hot.

* Is there a group noun for baby goats? A gambol of kids?



Photos: In forty years Jess may not remember Dili, and she’ll look back at the photos she took here and think that it was some kind of glorified farm tour. Heavy emphasis on the baby goats and piglets.

Announcement

It has been almost a month of speculation, interpretation, and consternation. In Dili we've been reading the reports and the tea leaves, hoping for a glimpse into how the deadlock over which group - FRETILIN with its 21-seat plurality or the CNRT-ASDT-PSD-PD post-election alliance with 37 seats (57% of parliament) - will be chosen by President Ramos-Horta to present a prime minister.

The announcement has been put off repeatedly, but today it actually happened. At around three thirty Jess and I got ready. We hole-punched Jess's old Boston College photo ID and strung it on a blue lanyard so that she could be official. We grabbed a camera and a cab and headed out to Caicoli.

Once everyone was in the room for the announcement, Jess took pictures and I scribbled notes. It was a good speach - delivered clearly and slowly, emphasizing that the constitution gives the president a choice - the most-voted party or the party or alliance with the majority - and that he had chosen the alliance based on viability.

In closing, the President called upon the people to give the new Prime Minister the opportunity to rule, a chance. It was an appropriate inversion: although it had ultimately been Ramos-Horta's decision to pick the PM, it will be the people's choice to let Gusmão begin his work.

Jess and I walked home via Mercado Lama, riding the rush of excitement. As we turned into Audeon it also became clear that we should stay in for the night. Balide, Santa Cruz, Comoro - beep beep, beep beep (another text) - all these neighborhoods were starting to heat up. Restrict movement. Lay low.

But it was a good day, an important day, and I was glad that Jess was here to squeeze in behind the TV cameras with me to see the beginning of the new government, the first line of a new chapter.

Parliament Graphics

Sometimes visuals help.

I made these charts right after the parliamentary election, and they illustrate two key changes in the composition of the National Parliament: first, a consolidation of power among fewer parties and coalitions. Second, the more even distribution of power amongst those parties.




The first graph makes me think of the 2006 Lusophone Games fustal match (five-a-side soccer) pitting Brazil against Timor Leste. Brazil scored once every 31 seconds; in a 40 minute game, this doesn't make for good soccer. Real competition has its benefits.

Offline - Online

It's been a while since I've written - a combination of taking on a research project, elections, and mild allergy to my computer. The last I blame somewhat on Mustang, who found herself a cottage by the sea. While she was on her circumnavigation, I found myself, limpet-like, attaching myself her porch, slowly grazing through her bookshelf and my library of cast-offs.

With the help of Goode I got a good bicycle brought in from Darwin, an arrival that happened serendipitously as all three work cars went into meltdown. I've been riding around town, avoiding potholes instead of rushing over them, smelling the stink of the gutters and ringing my little bell for kiddos. (That is when I don't have a flat.) I'm in a Luddite phase - a pushbike, non-virtual, get up with sunrise and roosters kind of phase.

The photos are from a spontaneous road trip at the end of June. The mother of one of our field organizers passed away, and on that Wednesday morning, without thinking twice, almost the entire office emptied - including the gardener - and we jumped in the car, and rode 3.5 hours to Maliana for the laying out of the body. This is my third funeral, ne'er a wedding, and I am getting used to the ritual.

After viewing the body, we sit, eat some noodles or rice, and chat. There is a very well developed plastic chair economy here, and I see trucks bumping through Dili moving tilting stacks of rainbow chairs from weddings to wakes, back and forth. And on my turquoise chair in Maliana, I was struck that everyone there had done the same thing: dropped work to go sit and talk quietly as the kids run around. After about 40 minutes we got back in the car and rode the 3.5 hours back to Dili.

I talked about this with a number of friends when I got back - the different priorities, the willingness to drop everything. But there was some irony that those conversations happened amongst people who have decided to be continents away from their families, making those gestures very difficult.

So with this in the back of my mind, it is wonderful to say that my family is coming across continents to be with me: my sister has already begun her trans-Pacific journey. She'll get in on Saturday, and I could not be more excited.



Photo: A happy staffer with a load of fresh shrimp bought en route back to Dili. To keep them from stinking up the car we hung them off the back windsheild wiper.

The bottom photo is looking west into Indonesian West Timor.

Do's and d'Hondts

The National Electoral Commission (CNE) has been doing a great job of releasing clearly presented daily results. The data has been a joy. At the office, photocopies of the results have been floating around, and the question from everyone is what do these numbers mean in terms of seats?

Timor Leste uses a modified d’Hondt method for allocating seats. Additionally, a party must obtain 3% of all valid votes cast to even be entered into the d’Hondt formula. Exceeding this threshold does not guarantee a seat. When all the votes are counted, based on earlier voter turnout rates, 3% should be about 12,000 votes.

There are d’Hondt calculators online, but for those who prefer homebrew, here is the run-down:

The modified d’Hondt method works in three steps:
1. Identify the parties that have met the 3% threshold
2. Divide the valid votes for each of these parties by 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…
3. Identify the number of highest resulting quotients (the results of the division process) equal to the number of seat being allocated.

This BBC site shows another method for doing the calculation, which I think is less straightforward, but interesting nonetheless.



In the above figure (please click to enlarge), the red numbers are the 65 highest quotients. If there were 67 seats in the parliament, the next two highest quotients would be 5274.8 (ASDT/PSD) and 5251.1 (CNRT); the 66th and 67th seats would go to these parties.

These outcomes are based on results available at the Dili District Counting Center this afternoon, and reflect totals as of 11:00, 5 July 2007. All votes have been counted except for in Dili, and the Dili figure used here is only 86% complete. Nationally, the counting is 97% complete (CNE’s calculations).

I expect that this will not be the final seat configuration - but close - and I’ll wait for tonight's results to do more number crunching. No system is perfectly proportional, later I’ll look at the mathematical ‘bias’ built into the d’Hondt method.

Overall, this parliamentary election has gone more smoothly than most people expected - violence was low, participation high, and the number of blank and null votes are down. As with most things: practice and patience.


Photo: Dili District Counting Center.

Parliamentary Elections Notes

The parliamentary elections are this weekend, and only recently has this fact jumped into focus. I spent Tuesday afternoon at a briefing for international observers at which representatives from UNMIT, UNDP, UNPOL, ISF, and IFES* all commented. Yesterday I visited four political rallies – FRETILIN, PD, PR and UNDERTIM – to take some photos.

So the last few days have been a press of facts and procedures, followed by the visceral thrill of crowds and flags, insults and promises. The campaign period now is officially over.

At the briefing, the speakers emphasized three major points:

First, rain. It has been raining almost daily in Timor-Leste (very unusual for this time of year), and the downpours have been significant enough to make important road impassable and knock out bridges. The biggest problems appear to be in the district of Covalima to the west, where access to the important Suai Town sub-district is now lost. Reports are still rolling in from across the country.

The rains create huge logistical challenges. For example, in the presidential elections the UN moved polling materials into 35 polling centers by helicopter. Following this wet spell, the urgent request for helicopter support to reach an additional 51, newly cut-off, sites have been issued, with 21 already approved. By the speaker’s estimation, 20% of all sites will now be serviced by helicopters. There is currently a big push to find new routes, scramble UN (M18) and ISF choppers, organize observers to fly with the materials, etc.



Second, the speakers underscored the redoubled need to build confidence in the counting process in light of the amended electoral law, which moved the counting process from the polling stations to district centers, effectively decreasing the number of counting sites from 708 to 13. The essential problem, as one official put it, is not the security of the ballots – the UN believes that sufficient steps are being taken to secure the movement of the ballot boxes – but the perception of their security.

For me this issue is a bit broader. In this election, it will be impossible to give the voter the same, unfiltered, experience of seeing his or her vote counted. The challenge is to develop procedures that can satisfy the minimum level of access and transparency that was established in the presidential elections – a high standard which now, for better or worse, shapes voters’ expectations and perceptions of legitimacy. As the UN Elections Certification Team stated in their seventh report: “It is unlikely that such a level of transparency [as established in the presidential elections], or quite possibly even a minimally acceptable level of transparency, will be able to be achieved at district counting” (my emphasis). There is a problem with not only perceptions, but potentially also with meeting basic international standards.

Finally, these elections are more complex and, considering the power of parliament relative to the presidency, more important than the presidential rounds. These are high stakes, high energy, and potentially high-risk elections. I am looking forward to Saturday.





* United Nation Integrated Mission in Timor-Leste, United Nations Development Program, International Stabilization Forces, and IFES (formerly International Foundation for Electoral Systems).

** While Timor-Leste has used the district counting system in the past, the problem in this cycle is “changing horses in midstream.”

*** From p. 7, paragraph 13. The UN Elections Certification Team goes on to call the amendment “a major retrograde step, substantially diminishing both the perceived and actual transparency of the counting process, and thereby running the risk of significantly compromising the main source of trust in the results.”

Hidden Kitchens

Some months ago I subscribed to a podcast out of National Public Radio by the culinary anthropologists/radio producers the Kitchen Sisters entitled Hidden Kitchens. They call the kitchen they profile “secret, unexpected, below the radar.”

For twenty weeks the shows jumped around. One week it would be taco trucks in Los Angeles; the next cooking on coal freighters on the Great Lakes; the next memories of a house restaurant that gave frequent respite to Martin Luther King during the Montgomery bus boycotts. In the end, however, the stories really weren’t about cooking or even food: they were about sustenance. Each hidden kitchen produced food for comfort and fulfillment, autonomy or companionship (lit: with bread), resistance and identity.

Food, cooking, and the intertwined concepts of sustenance and sustainability have been on my mind recently. During my time in Timor-Leste, I have had meals made for me twice a day, a system that I inherited from my predecessor and one that appreciated as I got my bearings. Starting about a week before I left for Darwin, I quietly slid out of the arrangement. I still have to sort this out formally with the woman who cooks, and I worry about how to do this politely and fairly.

Establishing a private life while living at my workplace has been difficult. And that’s why this small change has felt so good. It has made me feel less monitored and passive, more in control, and more connected to the what’s going on outside the compound’s swinging gates.

Back in my room I have been slowly building a hidden kitchen. Old ice cream containers holding flour and yellow cans of sweet lychee are now my bookends. I am accumulating spices, sauces and staples. My fridge is filling out. The Vegetarian left me teas. Goode and L sorted me out with a yogurt maker (which I proudly showed mom via the new webcam). I have now cultures multiplying, garlic pickling, avocados ripening and a pumpkin molding.

I arrived in Timor-Leste with the idea I would be leaving at the end of the year. I had an ascetic’s attitude of just waiting things out - I could find what I wanted once I got back home.

The choice to take another contract has sent me in search of sustainability, comfort and small pleasures. Instead of abstention, how do I cook up what I need? Some needs are social: being able to see friends and stay in touch with loved ones. Some are intellectual. And right now, a lot are corporeal: the rush of Vinyasa yoga or dancing or adding more bird’s eye chilies.


After dutifully eating my little plates of rice and sautéed greens delivered to my clean white room, it feels good to be growing a burbling, tiny kitchen on (and tucked under) what used to be my desk. I like when my bread dough rises and the stickiness of my knife and fingers after mincing garlic; I like that my room smells a little funky when I walk in; I like how food reconnects the brain with the gut and tongue. My hidden kitchen is both lab and experiment – one small, appliance-swooning step toward seeking out what I need to feel nourished, full.*



*Apparently part of the answer is liters and liters of yogurt. Lots to go around. iTunes users can find the free podcasts by searching for "Hidden Kitchens" in the iTunesStore.

Photo: Top – mangos from the courtyard, October 2006. Bottom – a meal delivered to my room.

Rolling Stones

I arrived back in Dili almost a week ago, touching down onto the small runway with a pang of reticence that had been entirely absent on my return from exile in Jakarta.

My holiday in the Northern Territory (NT) was wonderful. The blinking screens and thumping, shuddering air conditioners that occupy my days in Dili were replaced with wildfires, arching blue skies, and the scream of the Rolling Stones as I covered over one thousand kilometers with L in his bootstrapped 4WD.

I can’t get no… sat-tis-fact-ion…

NT felt huge and oddly empty compared to Timor. Camping out in ‘the bush,’ I kept expecting to wake up to see a line of curious children and walleyed goats sitting outside the tent. On the escarpment we drank the water from the streams because there isn’t anything up there to contaminate it – a new experience for me as in coastal Maine rainwater is no longer safe because of industrial pollution and in Vermont we worry about effluent.

All the sounds and little rituals of camping, for example the snap of tent poles coming together, set my thoughts rushing back: my petite dome tent in the Yukon-Kuskokwin delta of Alaska, tarps plastered with wet pine needles at Merck Forest, sharing the green Eureka tent with dad at the farm, etc. I spent a lot of time thinking about my summers growing up.

Despite the flush of nostalgia, there were parts of being in NT that felt totally foreign – crocodiles, for instance. Off the escarpment, there is no gadding about near the water’s edge, no trailing a foot or finger in the water. This took a while to internalize, and it was sometimes frustrating to reconcile my general confidence with my clear lack of NT-specific smarts. Lots to learn.

Amidst the euphoria of big landscapes and straight, smooth roads were smaller moments. I did a fair amount of bird watching (not really a lot of listing, though) and it felt good to get lost in the minutia of plumages, rendered close by my scope. As L said, they (the birds) don’t do much. And sometimes that is precisely the point. A long look at a new dove; drinking tea with Tasmanian honey; warming up on rocks after a swim – non-events that feel intimate.



Now back in Dili, it has not taken too long to reconnect with the people and things I love here. The markets are more full and beautiful than I have seen in months: the avocados have tight and glossy purple skins, and Timor’s stubby bananas and zaftig tomatoes make a mockery of stiff supermarket produce. I am back typing away about elections trivia, and I am already anticipating sorting through the inevitably (tantalizingly) convoluted results from the parliamentary election (30 June 2007).

There is something nice to coming back to my simple routine of passable coffee in the morning and a crossword puzzle before bed. However, that is not to say that I couldn’t have done with a few more weeks tromping around Kakadu National Park and drumming on the dashboard while yelling with the Stones:

… hey hey hey, that’s what I say… I can’t get no sat-tis-fact-ion!





Photos: From top to bottom - Kakadu; checking out the Forest Kingfishers in Kakadu; walk into Kakadu; White-bellied Sea Eagles throught the scope; calm waters in Litchfield; the group hiking into Kakadu; upstream from Yellow Waters.

Non-Elections Update

I'm working this week to clean off my desk and finish reports so that my fast-approaching holiday in Darwin can involve worry-free napping and record-breaking stretches without checking my email.

The plan while I'm there (1-11 June), napping aside, is to do a bit of camping, buy a bike and check out the birds in Kakadu national park. At 19,804 sq km/7,646 sq miles, the park is over three times the size of my beloved Rhode Island and just under the size of New Jersey. Very exciting; very excited.

Elections Update

The parliamentary election is gearing up, and a few posters and banners have cropped up around Dili. There have been more rallies at Democracy Field and the CNRT headquarters is buzzing. Here are a few notes on recent developments:

- Last Friday I went to see the parties sign a campaign code of conduct. All the party leaders (most of whom had stood in the presidential race) were there pressing flesh and chatting with each other. One representative had a cellphone with the ringer programmed to sound like a rooster, which, in retrospect, I would think would be a poor choice here - too many false alarms! The mood was upbeat, and at the end of the ceremony, the party presidents stood in a line, arms crossed, holding hands, and shouted out slogans for peace, respect and democracy.

- With opinion generally against the changes to the parliamentary elections law, I had hoped that the amendments (discussed 5/17) would be vetoed by President Ramos-Horta. It appears, however, that he signed them into law last night. The change to the counting procedures is only one of number of contraversial features of the amended law; time permitting, I will do a full breakdown.

- I tracked down a complete set of the final results. With parliamentary elections rapidly nearing, and the results from the second round elections so clear, there was little pressure on the National Electoral Commission (CNE) to release data on null, blank and contested votes. Those figures, however, are essential for gauging the effectiveness of voter education efforts and calculating the voter turnout rate. Here are the numbers:

Total Registered Voters: 522,933
Total Valid Votes: 379,159
Total Blank Votes: 7,380
Total Null Votes: 14,640
Total Votes Cast: 401,179

Voter Turnout Rate: 76.7%
Rate of Blank / Null Votes: 1.8% / 3.7%

It appears, in the end, that the voter turnout rate did decrease - a drop of roughly 5%. The good news is that the rates of blank and null votes also decreased, reflecting a simpler ballot in the second round and perhaps also an increased understanding among voters of the process.

- Finally, here are the fourteen entries on the ballot, two of which are coalitions:

# on Ballot; Acronym; Full Name (ENG); Leading Figure(s)

1 UNDERTIM; National Democratic Union for Timorese Resistance; Cornelio “L7” Gama

2 CNRT; National Congress for the Reconstruction of Timor; Xanana Gusmão, Agio Pereira

3 PR; Republican Party; Joao Saldanha

4 PDRT; Democratic Party of the Republic of Timor; Osorio Lequi

5 PDC; Christian Democratic Party; Antonio Ximenes

6 UDT; Timorese Democratic Union; Joao Carrascalao, Quiteria da Costa

7 PD; Democratic Party; Fernando “Lasama” Araujo, Mariano Sabino Lopes

8 PMD; Millennium Democratic Party; Ermenegildo Lopes

9 PST; Socialist Party of Timor; Avelino Coelho da Silva, Nelson Correia

10 ASDT/PSD Coalition; Timorese Association of Social Democrats / Social Democrat Party of East Timor; Xavier do Amaral / Mario Carrascalao, Zacarias Albano da Costa, Joao Goncalves

11 Democratic Alliance Coalition; Association of Timorese Heroes (KOTA) / People’s Party of Timor (PPT); Manuel Tilman / Jacob Xavier

12 FRETILIN; Revolutionary Front of Independent East Timor; Francisco “Lu’Olo” Guterres, Mari Alkatiri

13 PNT; Timorese Nationalist Party; Alilio Araujo

14 PUN; National Unity Party; Fernanda Borges


Photo: Poll workers load ballot boxes into a truch to be transported from the polling center to the district tabulation center.