I am leaving Timor-Leste, my home for the past 3 years, 7 months and 3 days. As I write this, two geckos are on the wall in front of me. It's as if they're playing the game "Red light, Green light." For two minutes they are frozen 3-D images on the wall and then suddenly for no apparent reason, they shimmy up the wall a couple meters and then strike a new pose. If they are lucky, an insect unknowingly flies in their vicinity and then you see how truly fast those suckers can move. Sometimes these geckos even fight one other. In fact I've seen a big Mama gecko eat a smaller one. Never would have guessed them as cannibals; they look so cute and innocent. But I digress. I, of course, leave Timor with mixed feelings. I am very excited to be returning Stateside and the challenges that will bring. I am particularly looking forward to being closer to family and friends. But I will also miss the life that I have known for practically the past 4 years.
Much of what I love about Timor has been what has been most challenging as well. I love how almost everyday I am exposed to something new, particularly in how people interact with one another. One particular lesson is brought to mind. I hate conflict, always have. I can think of hundreds of other things I'd rather do than confront someone that I felt had wronged me. If I do miraculously decide to inform them, I do it privately. In Timor, this is not how it works. If there is a perceived wrong between two people, a third person is brought in. This person is either a mutual friend or more likely someone "higher", as in age, respect or on the professional ladder, than either of you. The aggrieved explains the problem to this other person who has nothing to do with the issue. It is his or her job to relay the information to the "wrongdoer." To me, this is just a circuitous way of dealing with something that could calmly be discussed in privacy. But privacy in our sense of the word does not exist in this country. Oh there is the privacy that leads to impregnated daughters, sons running away to the capital and men attacking one another with machetes. But the privacy of emotion when it is anger or the feeling of being wronged is hard to find. Even if perchance, someone were to privately address you about a wrong, others would immediately know about it through the coconut telegraph. That's just how it is. I initially felt that bringing in a third party to an argument was thereby inviting the world to view your error and thus I felt embarrassed. But in fact, the third party saves everyone's face. Direct confrontation is what Timorese do when they are prepared to not step down. Once you have committed yourself to saying something in public or to someone's face, there is no turning back. By saying it through a middleman, you are preserving the relationship. It is out of respect that they are doing this. They want the grievance to be known and behavior to be changed but it is not important enough to taint the friendship. Relationships are important all over the world but living in Timor, I'm in a different ball park. I have had to learn the rules appropriate here. And I greatly appreciate the lessons not only for the lessons themselves but for greater truths of love, friendship and respect.
Preparing to leave has led me to think about the immediate future of Timor. There seems to be several issues still smoldering in this country. I won't delve into all of them but just make mention of a couple. The IDPs have been in their camps for almost two years now with little change other than a new tent or two. Their food rations were cut in half last month and will be cutoff next month. There has been no violence due to this halt of aid but words have been spoken. In several camps, the leaders have refused the food all together saying half rations are insufficient to feed families. They peacefully refuse the food but say the ball is in the Government's hands. They say the Gov have created the problems which led to people seeking refuge in the camps therefore it is their responsibility to resolve the issues and ensure that the inhabitants feel safe enough to return to their homes or begin building anew. In that peaceful sentence, is the latent threat of "if you don't ..."
While the East vs West hatred is not as blatant as it once was, it is still lurking in full force in the background. Every so often you hear of an act of hatred or a snide remark. The other week, my driver's neighbor went to the market with his wife at 6pm, when it was still light out. He and his wife are from the East and the market they went to was in an "Eastern" neighborhood. A man at the market suddenly plunged a knife three times into the man's back, thinking that he was from the West. It wasn't until the wife was shouting "Stop!" in an Eastern local language that the attacker realized his victim was not the Western man he had thought it was. He ran off. And when this story is told, it is not met with shock and horror at the cold-blooded deed. It is instead met with "how did he not know his own kind?"
I suppose leaving has made me wonder what Timor will be like in the years that I am not here to witness it. I love this country. It frustrates the hell out of me but I love it. I always will. I love the people, I cherish the relationships, I treasure the experiences and I will never forget those feelings. I unfortunately will probably forget much of what I did or experienced, but the feeling of love that I have will not go away. I worry greatly about what events will transpire here and it's worse because I won't be here to see it occur. I'll be reading about it in a sterile environment, bringing even more to home the fact that this isn't home anymore.
My Remexio family is hosting a farewell party for me. It will be 15 March and my family will be there as will friends and colleagues from Remexio. We will sit together, there will be speeches and there will be food. There is always food at anything of importance. I suppose that is universal. The sharing and partaking of food together cements deals and relationships. There will also be tears. When I first told my host mom that I was leaving in March, she didn't understand what that meant. I then told her I'd be leaving in about two months and she translated that as when the maize is flowering. She was shocked because we wouldn't be able to eat maize together again. That is something that didn't even cross my mind, given that my experience with the maize growing cycle is relatively limited. But even so, I wouldn't immediately think of my absence meaning we would not be able to consume a certain food together anymore. My departure brings to mind how I'll miss the way they looked after me and took care of me, their selflessness, amazing generosity, warmth, protectiveness, laidback nature always ready for a laugh and perhaps most importantly, the way I felt accepted and wanted. All this was my language of love. But I know now to also include in my farewell speech that when I eat maize or rice, I will think of them. Because that is how you say I love you in Timor.
I leave Dili 18 March and fly to Australia. I'll be doing spastic "Red light, Green light"-like traveling through Australia, Bali, Thailand, Java, Turkey, Romania and Croatia. Slowly making my way back to the States by early June. I expect to have an amazing time traveling and really looking forward to my various travel buddies! I look forward to seeing everyone Stateside very soon. Till then, take care!
Love,
Sarah
