Sara, from Fatuhada

Dear all A bit more than a week ago, the little boys who always play soccer in my street asked me what my name was. Since then when I pass by they often yell “Bondia Sara!” or “Mister Sara, where are you go?” (somehow all malae are ‘mister’ here, even if you are a woman). Some days ago I was at university working in the Peace Center and a student came in asking for one of my colleagues. I went up to him to tell him she was not at uni that day. He looked at me and then stated: “You are Sara, from Fatuhada!” (Fatuhada is the neighborhood where I live). Now it happened to me already more than I would like to admit that I don’t remember people who I apparently had already met, so I asked this young man whether we had already met before and he said: “no, but I live in your street, so I know you are Sara from Fatuhada”. I had to laugh. I am Sara from Fatuhada now! I felt like somehow I had been accepted into a community of whose existence I was not really aware. But I guess that is slowly the trend of the last weeks: my presence starts to become normal in places, people recognize me and little by little people start treating me more like Sara and less like a malae. My only frustration is that my Tetun is advancing slower than I had hoped (mainly because I am not forced to speak it as almost everybody speaks either English or Portuguese). Although I understand everyday a little more I think I will take some serious classes to speed up the process… A routine is slowly starting to form itself in my weeks, and consequently time is starting to fly. I spend a few days at uni, and a few afternoons at Ba Futuru. I also spend many hours like this:

Typing out field notes, writing writing writing, thinking, learning Tetun or reading articles. I mostly get up around 7.00 and that is actually the most beautiful time of the day, just after the sun came up, when the air is still fresh, the mist still hangs at the bottom of the hills, and the city is slowly woken up by an orchestra of crowing cocks.

One and a half weeks ago I went on another trip to a district in the East: Viqueque. I went with the teacher whom I work with at the university who was going to deliver a speech on an event organized by the Catholic Church about young people and peace. As I was not driving I could this time fully appreciate the beautiful road (which was until half way the same as to Los Palos), so these are the rice fields I was writing about in my previous blog:

Ossu, the city in Viqueque where we went is higher up in the mountains and the climate is different from Dili. There seem to permanently be some clouds around and it is much colder (as in: you might actually want to wear long sleeves) and less dusty. Although it was good to be out of the dust for a bit I must say I missed the sparkling brightness of the sun in Dili.

The weekend in the district, mainly among very Catholic men (as the only foreigner, the only woman, the only non-Catholic, the only vegetarian) was a bit of a culture shock. I felt alone. I felt offended by the way the treated women (not me, but Timorese women). I felt I was not in the position to start a discussion about it but still had arguments flying through my head the whole time. I felt very far away from home. When we were driving back, the warmer the air became, the bluer the sky, the closer the sea, the closer to Dili, the happier I became I chose Dili as my research spot. Because in Dili I have been able to feel at home, accepted and useful, things I did not feel in Viqueque.

Official reception by girls in traditional dress, with traditional instruments and traditional dance.

Getting closer to Dili, brightening up! Last weekend we started with the Women, Peace and Leadership program, the necessity of which had become very clear to me in Viqueque. Together with 25 future power-women we discussed what leadership actually is and what topics they are concerned with in their society. It was an inspiring afternoon and the prospect of meeting this group every week until December made me very happy.

Discussing “What kind of leader do I want to become?”

With my host family I went to the beach on Sunday. To swim in the extremely blue and almost warm water, with Dili almost unnoticeable at the distance, to splash in the water with my little ‘sister’ of two years old, to feel the salt on my lips and the sand everywhere else, it was truly weekend! Tuesday, as it was one of Timor Leste’s many feriados (public holidays) I went with one of my FOM friends and a friend of his to the far west side of Dili. Here there is also a beach (though not as popular as the Eastern beaches) and also a statue on a hill. This time not of Christ but of Pope John Paul II who visited Timor Leste in 1989. From the statue of the Pope you can see the statue of Cristo Rei in the distance, with Dili disappearing around the corner and behind the airport. This view inevitably leads to jokes about what the Pope who is waving his hand and the Cristo Rei who has both his armed stretched out (as you can see in the pictures of my previous blog) are saying to each other, and so we had our share of sacrilegious fun.

Us and the Pope

The airport and way in the distance, on that pointy hill, the statue of Cristo Rei. My thoughts are filled, daily, with thinking about the interesting conversations I have, the horrible stories I hear about the past, the funny encounters I have, the questions that come up from all the above, but also thoughts about the people I love and who are far away, thoughts about Dutch cheese or riding my bike through Utrecht, and then thoughts mingle again about what I still have to ask this or that person, what I should prepare for the next meeting of the women, peace and leadership group, what I should not forget to write in my next field notes, etc, so that much of my time is also passed sitting in my favorite chair, gazing into the air, letting all kind of images, ideas and questions pass before my mind’s eye…contemplating life. I guess fieldwork is making me very Zen :) Love to you all! Sara