On demand: my first blog posting in English. It won’t be the last one, but it doesn’t mean that I’ll be writing exclusively in English from now on either. I’ll just be switching between languages according to my mood of the day!
As my Swedish speaking readers already know, my home district, Oecussi, has got it’s first District Prosecutor. The arrival of Mr. Domingos Barreto, a short (like 95 per cent of the Timorese), easy-going man who speaks excellent Portuguese (those guys are far and few between around here) was a major event here in Pante Makassar, the sleepy capital of the Oecussi district. Everyone was here: the Timorese Minister of Justice, the National Prosecutor General, the Secretary of State (the most powerful politician in Oecussi, that is), the District Administrator, the UN Deputy Special Representative of the Secretary General, Ambassadors from Indonesia, Australia, the U.S. and Brazil (but not the Portuguese guy), not to mention traditional suco (village) chiefs. A special UN helicopter had been requested by the Timorese government to bring these VIPs here. On their arrival, a convoy of UNPOL (UN Police) cars transported the dignitaries from the “airport” (basically a helipad and a short grass strip that would allow a small aircraft to land here) to the newly built office of Mr. Barreto. It was the first, and possibly the last, time I heard police sirens here. The cows and goats roaming the streets in town seemed to be as stunned by the unheard sound as I was.
In fact, I just lied to you. Not everyone was here. The press, radio and TV journalists from the capital were nowhere to be seen. Apparently the impressive (even with the Brazilian standards that I’m used to) red tape of the UN made their trip here impossible. To come here, these media guys would have needed three different documents, stamped by God knows how many UN officials, to be allowed to be transported by UN vehicles to the airport in Dili, by the helicopter and by the UNPOL convoy once they’d arrive in Oecussi. As it happens, this mind-boggling and time-consuming bureaucratic process overwhelmed even the UN Public Information Office, responsible for media relations as well. It took them days to understand the amount of necessary paperwork involved in the operation, and by the time it dawned on them, it was too late. All the helicopter seats had already been booked by others, aware of the need to plan ahead when you deal with the UN. As a result, some ten Dili based reporters found out, when they arrived at the Dili airport, that they’d been placed on the waiting list. To say that this wasn’t a very popular piece of news would be the understatement of the year, and the UN might find it hard to convince Timorese journalists to cover our future activities.
Frankly speaking, the Dili reporters didn’t really miss out on a whole lot. Some traditional dancing, loooong speeches (in Tetun, which means I only understood random parts of them), uncomfortable chairs, the planting of a few trees and a lunch that I missed (and that they would have missed, too, as they would’ve had to catch the chopper back to Dili before lunch). Unfortunately I also missed the interviews with the Minister of Justice, who dashed back to Dili as soon as all the speeches had been made. Well, I did get an interview with our new District Prosecutor for the UNMIT (The United Nations Integrated Mission in Timor Leste) weekly newsletter, and my bosses in Dili were pleased with that.
The fun didn’t stop just because the inauguration ceremony of the Prosecutor’s Office was over, however. Of course, the local hotshots wouldn’t miss this golden opportunity to throw a party in the building of the Secretary of State. Now, was that a party or what?
Well, if you ask me, I really wouldn’t know. I’ll tell you why, but first I’ll enjoy a very rare treat here, at the Oecussi Hard Rock Café (the name of the UN canteen-come-bar). Our temporary Japanese doctor (subbing for our Dutch-Indonesian doctor) just got here from Dili and brought a very nice wine, Danish brie cheese and biscuits. I’d be a fool to miss a feast like this!
OK, I’m back.
The Timorese are a disciplined and well-behaved bunch. When the men don’t drink, bet on cockfighting or beat up their wives, that is. (A Timorese man can do that and get away with it, since there’s still no law stating that a man is not allowed to punch the living daylights out of his wife and kids). When I arrived at the party, around half ten, they (some 150 people) were all sitting there quietly in their (uncomfortable) chairs, organized in neat rows. Well, everyone apart from the new District Prosecutor, the National Prosecutor General and the Secretary of State. Behind a fair amount of bottles (beer, whisky, maybe even wine), they were lounging in the same, huge leather coach that earlier in the day had accommodated other VIPs at the inauguration ceremony. (As it seems, someone had transported the coach from the District Prosecutor’s Office. It might be the only huge leather coach around in Oecussi).
To be continued…
