beautiful dili

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A 6 hour bus truck ride to the ferry port and 30 hours on board an even older vessel I headed for east timor. A short stop in the port town and the clear observation that this town, kupang, only had mangos, cassettes and fake import clothes to offer I took the next 12 hour bus ride into east timor- crossing the boarder and arriving in dili.

For a city or rather, country, that had nothing to offer and no personal reason to stay, my 10 day stop over was fuelled only by the new 60 day indonesian visa I would get. For a country that I couldn't decide if it was having, going to have or if it had just had a civil war, daily encounters made me wonder why I was there.

Having first hand experience of hearing shots fired and being the only people about lead me to believe they were aimed at us, and being a white tourist hanging on the back of a pick up, riding through the danger zone, im certain i was a sure 100 pointer for their shooting score system, constant military presence and patrols attending to gun battles and home made bomb blasts, around the nearby streets made it feel pretty unsafe. However at the same time curiosity wanted to take over and I was intrigued what I could witness. It was common knowledge where to go and when but the definite realization of probably not returning always kept me at a safe distance, apart from one time......

It was christmas time and just like christmas everyone likes bright flashing lights which is what I could see in the distance, every unthought step brought me closer and closer to, what at first seemed to be a large noisy crowd. becoming aware that this crowd was walking in my direction i thought id take refuge in a heavily guarded petrol station and take some snap shots through the compound fence. the noisy crowd that capture my interest infact turned out to be a rioting gang, this mob of perhaps 200-300 strong was heavily surrounded by soldiers and and backed by 9 military wagons full of armed portuguese
at a crutial point i was faced with making a dash to the petrol station- which i had not yet reached, or walk back. in the 2 seconds it took me to still not have decided, a gang member signaled to me to get away and with a few suggestive words i took my first few initial steps back. his thoughtful concern seemed to anger his co-members and instantly a fight broke out with a handful of men attacking him and a handful of men giving chase to me. a 50 yard distance separated us but now it was a typical flight or fight situation, i didn't fancy my chances at the fight so with a delayed start i kicked of my flip flops and ran hell for leather down, what was now a deserted street with every door building and gate looked. immediately the soldiers stepped in and the amongst the brawl a tense sense of calm emerged and i was left to increase the distance between us. a fumbled unlock of a gate and i was out of harms way.

following days saw our truck get stoned, ducking and diving in the back watching rocks fly towards us, and it was times like this you wonder why you bother. more stories followed and the inspection of a home made dart made me realize that this rebel type activity was merely a game to them. made from a 6 inch nail, the head would be hammered and then have serrated edges cut in, mini streamers were added to the tail and the finished product was dipped in shit or battery acid, in hope that any successful shot would then later cause infection.

scrapping together the good things to keep me going was hard, there were times when a temporary illegal border crossing through the mountains back into indonesia seemed favorable, any thing to encounter some hospitality, that actually came from outside the hostel, but a couple of visits to a secluded beach and local donuts and hotdogs encouraged me to see it though.

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