helen weld public health

A Tragic Day for Timor. . .

I am writing now from Brisbane, picking up the tale from the previous posting:

After Megan received the phone call about East Timor’s President, Jose Ramos-Horta, being shot, we were out the door in less than five minutes. Per her instructions I hastily packed my gear, my passport pouch snugly tucked away under my shirt. Megan grabbed her "go" bag, complete with a two way radio, clean underwear and toilet paper, among other essential items. As we departed her house, it seemed as though the neighborhood was exceptionally quiet for a Monday morning and Fernando, her faithful gardener/friend, seemed to already know that something was awry. He said that he would look after her place and for her to be careful. Our adrenaline was pumping.

As we drove to the WHO office at the UN compound in Dili (about a 20 minute drive), life on the streets appeared normal... children going to school, shops opening and the police academy cadets lining up for training. We pulled over and bought some Timor Telecom cell phone credit from one of the ubiquitous guys on the side of the road who are constantly fanning the vouchers in their hands like a hand of cards. Communicating was going to be vital. Her two-way radio was squelching and the messages coming through were to proceed to work, with caution.

We arrived at the UN compound and they waved us through without requiring me to show any ID (which they had done previously). A group of Timorese UN employees (mostly drivers) were huddled in conversation and texting with their cell phones. When we greeted them, they all had looks of anguish and terror on their faces, having heard the news. Most all of them have suffered losses of family members and homes in the previous crises and were extremely worried about how the day could unfold.

We checked in at the WHO office and then alerted our families that we were safe and sound, anticipating that the phone lines would soon be jammed. We then rendezvoused at the cafe with Megan's friends who were arriving in for work. The text messages were flying and the cigarette smokers were feverishly lighting up. People were beginning to get messages from worried family and friends from all over the world as the news about the assassination attempt spread. Everyone was calm, but sweating bullets, the tension was exacerbated by the extreme heat too. Rumours were flying "out in the world" and details were already being skewed, a classic case of Chinese whispers.

One of Megan's friends was visibly shaken as he related the story from friends who lived in the neighbourhood of Ramos-Horta's residence. who had witnessed the assassination attempt with bullets flying past their window. The extent of Ramos-Horta's injuries was unclear. News then came through that the rebel leader, Alfredo Reinado had been killed in the encounter and also that Xanana Gusmao (the Prime Minister) had been attacked. This was all very big news indeed. Everyone was just very concerned that the shootings would trigger widespread unrest in Dili, erupting into uncontrolled violence. Security reports were coming through however, that the streets were calm. People were anticipating that violence might occur after Prime Minister Gusmao's press conference at 4:00. It did not seem as though the news of Reinado's death had hit the streets.

We decided without much hesitation that it would be wise for me to depart Dili that day in anticipation of a potential "lockdown" and possible civil war. I was due to depart the next morning anyway. Megan dealt with my flight booking with her usual efficiency and competence and succeeded in getting me a seat on that afternoon’s plane. It was very reassuring and felt luxurious to be under her wing.

The day continued with more juice and coffees as the expats gathered for personal stories and television updates from the BBC news. It was all very interesting to be at this epicentre of activity. One of her friends was getting calls from the New York Times in Jakarta, while another was in a special meeting with Gusmao instead having lunch. The whole time I felt safe, though the constant "Thwack, Thwack" of the helicopters overhead was slightly unnerving.

After consulting the head of security for an update on the streets, Megan decided that it would be OK for her to deliver me to the airport instead of my going with a UN driver. She would drop me off and then continue home. En route, the streets still seemed calm, though the presence of Aussie and NZ troops was very evident. A few tanks going past escalated the impression that "this is the real thing."

Megan is an expert ‘Dili driver’ and avoided the usual array of roving dogs, pigs, goats and children very well and we made it the airport in fine time with a quick stop to pick up some DVDs. She was anticipating being housebound under curfew restrictions in the days to come.

I was the first in line for check-in which was a bit delayed due to the simultaneous arrival of Ramos-Horta in an ambulance for his medical evacuation to Darwin. Megan and I had a hasty goodbye. It was all happening! Proceeding through the security after immigration was interesting, as the machinery was apparently not functioning but the people go through the motions anyhow.

The plane was an hour late in departing from Dili, otherwise all was normal. It was quite surreal to arrive into Darwin only an hour and a half after leaving the tense drama in Dili. Returning into the brightly lit, clean, fast lane of the developed world, I felt as though I had been in an intense 12- hour movie marathon. The reality of "globesity" was a sudden punch of instant culture shock, despite my having been out of Australia for only three weeks.

The whole day was a sad and tragic day in the history of Timor-Leste and its fragile young democracy. Fingers crossed it can withstand these events. I am thankful for my three weeks there and hope to return again one day in order to try making some worthwhile contributions and to see all my new friends once again.

Helen