there is of course much more to yogya than the social darwinism of jalan kaliurang at 4 in the afternoon described below.
i have the good fortune of being able to stay once again in the wonderful house i used to live in for the past few years (now with the added luxury of w-lan!) and am once again able to enjoy a cup of coffee while watching the sun set beyond the mango trees and sugarcane fields, listening to the gentle splashing of the stream and the maghrib-calls of the muezzin wafting over from the village...
Dienstag, 27. November 2007
get your motor running...
our engines sound like a swarm of mechanical wasps, buzzing and waiting for action. the sun beats down on our skins. the heat is reflected off the hot asphalt. our number grows by the second as more and more motorbikes edge their way to the front of the column.
we are students and farmers, accountants and soldiers. girls with headscarves, girls with piercings. young men in suits, young men in black t-shirts. old men in batik, old ladies in batik. singles on their motorbike. young couples on their motorbike. families of five on their motorbike.
the bikes and helmets display an eclectic melange of stickers: scatological messages, religious texts, anarchist slogans. heavy metal bands, nightclubs, spongebob squarepants.
some of us are gazing around. some are smoking. some are fixing their make-up. some are sending smses. all are waiting for the signal.
then it comes: GREEN!!! simultaneously, we all twist our right wrists and turn our accelerators south. those who react half a nanosecond too slow are mercilessly honked down.
its now a dog-eat-dog race. bikes overtaking you on the left, bikes overtaking you on the right. oncoming traffic on both sides of you. the sidewalks become auxiliary lanes for overtaking the slow. dust, exhaust fumes, noise...
...until we reach the next stoplight.
we are students and farmers, accountants and soldiers. girls with headscarves, girls with piercings. young men in suits, young men in black t-shirts. old men in batik, old ladies in batik. singles on their motorbike. young couples on their motorbike. families of five on their motorbike.
the bikes and helmets display an eclectic melange of stickers: scatological messages, religious texts, anarchist slogans. heavy metal bands, nightclubs, spongebob squarepants.
some of us are gazing around. some are smoking. some are fixing their make-up. some are sending smses. all are waiting for the signal.
then it comes: GREEN!!! simultaneously, we all twist our right wrists and turn our accelerators south. those who react half a nanosecond too slow are mercilessly honked down.
its now a dog-eat-dog race. bikes overtaking you on the left, bikes overtaking you on the right. oncoming traffic on both sides of you. the sidewalks become auxiliary lanes for overtaking the slow. dust, exhaust fumes, noise...
...until we reach the next stoplight.
Samstag, 24. November 2007
mungkin bila nanti kita akan bertemu lagi...
so its time now to say good-bye to timor-leste, good-bye to friends and acquaintances, good-bye to extraordinary people in an extraordinary place, good-bye to the mad dogs who try to run in front of my motorbike at night and to the squealing suicidal piglets who try the same during the day, good-bye to aussie blackhawks waking me up in the morning with their low altitude flights, good-bye to the gang leaders i've been meeting and to the idps who've been pushed out of their homes, good-bye to excellent coffee and breath-taking mountains, good-bye to fording rivers with a bust-up jeep in the moonlight when the bridge has been washed away. its "ate logo" to all of that.
and a special, heartfelt good-bye goes out to one mr alan jackson, hailing from "way down yonder on the chattahoochee, where it gets hotter than a hootchie-cootchie." alan has accompanied across the breadth and width of this country and been on my mind a lot. alan, i hope by the time we meet again you will no longer be "up to your ears in tears," no longer "in a tropical depression," that eventhough your "hair is still a little too long, got a big harley and listen to a country song," and your girlfriend has left you again (you know, the one who's got the rhythm while you got the blues), in spite of all i hope you'll be ok enough with all of that to not need to sing about it again. or if you do feel the compelling need to sing about it, that i don't need to listen to it. you know, maybe you really should buy yourself that "mercury '49 and go cruisin' up the roooooo-hoooooo-ad." if you need a bit of extra cash, i might even send you some just so that i won't need to hear about it again.
so now its off to indonesia. the calls of "malea, malae!!!" will be replaced with "bule masuk kampung," or, more embarrasingly, shouts of "bon jovi, bon jovi..."
p.s.: i suspect that dili intl airport is perhaps the only one on the planet where the shopping and dining facilities are located inside an idp camp...
and a special, heartfelt good-bye goes out to one mr alan jackson, hailing from "way down yonder on the chattahoochee, where it gets hotter than a hootchie-cootchie." alan has accompanied across the breadth and width of this country and been on my mind a lot. alan, i hope by the time we meet again you will no longer be "up to your ears in tears," no longer "in a tropical depression," that eventhough your "hair is still a little too long, got a big harley and listen to a country song," and your girlfriend has left you again (you know, the one who's got the rhythm while you got the blues), in spite of all i hope you'll be ok enough with all of that to not need to sing about it again. or if you do feel the compelling need to sing about it, that i don't need to listen to it. you know, maybe you really should buy yourself that "mercury '49 and go cruisin' up the roooooo-hoooooo-ad." if you need a bit of extra cash, i might even send you some just so that i won't need to hear about it again.
so now its off to indonesia. the calls of "malea, malae!!!" will be replaced with "bule masuk kampung," or, more embarrasingly, shouts of "bon jovi, bon jovi..."
p.s.: i suspect that dili intl airport is perhaps the only one on the planet where the shopping and dining facilities are located inside an idp camp...
Montag, 19. November 2007
here is something i can't understand
i've spent the past four weeks or so here studying violence and i'm still at the point encapsulated in cypress hill's lyrics:
"here is something you can't understand:
how i could just kill a man."
a case in point is a murder on sunday in downtown dili. it made the international news as a beheading, but based on the grainy photo of the corpse on the front page of timor post, that isn't quite true. it was a brutal, nasty murder but technically not quite a beheading.
asking around, it seems that it was either a gangland revenge murder and/or had something to do with a girl. having looked at the gangs here for my research, both seem quite plausible reasons. which is where i come to my "disconnect point:" i just don't see the connection between the reason (heartache) and the deed (attempting to chop someone's head off). or burning your neighbours house when there is no rice in the shop, as was happening during the rice crisis earlier this year. or attempting to chop someone's leg off because someone from his posse apparently disrespected someone from your posse in the neighbouring country 3 weeks ago as happened in baucau last week.
of course, irrational violence is an issue the world over, not just in timor. half of rome goes up in flames because of a game in which 22 millionaires in shorts kick a ball on a grass field and even finland has had its own high-school massacre...
"here is something you can't understand:
how i could just kill a man."
a case in point is a murder on sunday in downtown dili. it made the international news as a beheading, but based on the grainy photo of the corpse on the front page of timor post, that isn't quite true. it was a brutal, nasty murder but technically not quite a beheading.
asking around, it seems that it was either a gangland revenge murder and/or had something to do with a girl. having looked at the gangs here for my research, both seem quite plausible reasons. which is where i come to my "disconnect point:" i just don't see the connection between the reason (heartache) and the deed (attempting to chop someone's head off). or burning your neighbours house when there is no rice in the shop, as was happening during the rice crisis earlier this year. or attempting to chop someone's leg off because someone from his posse apparently disrespected someone from your posse in the neighbouring country 3 weeks ago as happened in baucau last week.
of course, irrational violence is an issue the world over, not just in timor. half of rome goes up in flames because of a game in which 22 millionaires in shorts kick a ball on a grass field and even finland has had its own high-school massacre...
Sonntag, 18. November 2007
candlelight flashback
the other night i was taking a candlelight mandi in a small timorese village close to the south coast. for those of you who are not familiar with the term,its indonesian for washing oneself in the traditional way by scooping cold water out of a basin and pouring i onto oneself.
as i was washing myself in the candlelight i was reminded of a mandi which i took a few years back in aceh, in ujong muloh, a small fishing village on the west coast, down the road from lamno. the village was completely destroyed by the 2004 tsunami and about two-thirds of the population had been killed. i was staying in the idp camp with our project workers there and in order to wash, you had to go to where the village had been before it was wiped away by the waves.
there, in between the ruins of the houses and the odd palm tree, we went to one of the wells and washed ourselves in the moonlight. washing myself under the stars in the ruins of what was once a house, taking water from the well of a dead man was a calm, surreal, almost mythical experience. it felt almost like an epiphany, though i don't know of what.
as i was washing myself in the candlelight i was reminded of a mandi which i took a few years back in aceh, in ujong muloh, a small fishing village on the west coast, down the road from lamno. the village was completely destroyed by the 2004 tsunami and about two-thirds of the population had been killed. i was staying in the idp camp with our project workers there and in order to wash, you had to go to where the village had been before it was wiped away by the waves.
there, in between the ruins of the houses and the odd palm tree, we went to one of the wells and washed ourselves in the moonlight. washing myself under the stars in the ruins of what was once a house, taking water from the well of a dead man was a calm, surreal, almost mythical experience. it felt almost like an epiphany, though i don't know of what.
Dienstag, 13. November 2007
a simple case of arithmetics
the other night, a man was shot dead with an arrow up the road from where i am staying. this was duly reported by reuters news agency who also put the killing into a bit of a context by stating that since the start of the crisis here in april/may 2006, at least 37 people have been killed and 150 000 are internally displaced.
the trouble with those figures is that they reflect the situation as it was 1,5 years (!) ago, but still almost every single news item on the timorese crisis uses those completely outdated figures. is it too much to ask of professional journalists to do a bit of background research or, at the very least, to add the casualty they are reporting in their piece to this total figure? to say that by now there's at least 37 + 1 = 38 dead?
as far as i can tell no-one has collected the total number of casualties since the beginning of the crisis. my own estimate is at least 50 (tallying up the cases i remember hearing about) have died, perhaps closer to 100. as far as the idps are concerned, the current official figure is down to approximately 100 000 from 150 000, though some would dispute that number.
and as always, each of those figures consist of individuals whose stories and fates will in all probability remain unreported by the local or the international media... but the very least they could do is get their numbers straight.
the trouble with those figures is that they reflect the situation as it was 1,5 years (!) ago, but still almost every single news item on the timorese crisis uses those completely outdated figures. is it too much to ask of professional journalists to do a bit of background research or, at the very least, to add the casualty they are reporting in their piece to this total figure? to say that by now there's at least 37 + 1 = 38 dead?
as far as i can tell no-one has collected the total number of casualties since the beginning of the crisis. my own estimate is at least 50 (tallying up the cases i remember hearing about) have died, perhaps closer to 100. as far as the idps are concerned, the current official figure is down to approximately 100 000 from 150 000, though some would dispute that number.
and as always, each of those figures consist of individuals whose stories and fates will in all probability remain unreported by the local or the international media... but the very least they could do is get their numbers straight.
Montag, 12. November 2007
striking poses
travelling across the country i've been getting a chance to see a lot of men in uniforms and brandishing weapons. on occasion, you might see the occasional woman in unifrom, but their numbers are far smaller, so i'll concentrate on the men here.
you've got the local police (pntl) with its various sub-units, the local armed forces (f-fdtl), the un police (unpol) and the international stabilisation force (isf) just to give you the main categories. many of their number, though by far not all, do seem to enjoy showing off their military gear, especially the ones who are in the more "special" units, such as the unpol's formed police units (fpu) or the pntl's rapid reaction force (uir). the average street cops tend to be the least intrusive of the lot.
each one of these units tends to have its own way of showing off its militarised masculinity. while the average pntl cop walks around in a simple uniform with a handgun, the uir riot squad members seem to take a special delight in wearing as much body armour as possible even when there are only little kids and old ladies around. compared to the street cops, they also have a lot more gadgets attached to their webbing - pepper spray, torches, a baton, handcuffs, etc. a further step up from this in terms of displaying muscular machismo and military gadgetry is the special "bodyguard" unit of the pntl. their uniform consists of black t-shirts, black combat trousers, a black bandana, shades and headsets. they carry numerous gadgets which i could not figure out the purpose of on their webbing gear, have a handgun plus a brand new steyr assault rifle and often a jungle knife on their belt.
in comparison, the f-fdtl members look like the poor rural cousins of these decked out cops. no extra gadgets, baggy unifroms and assault rifles from the 1970s. some of them don't even have designer shades, a faux pas unheard of in the cooler units.
the international forces tend to also have their own sub-cultures of displaying their military masculinity. the aussies tend to go for the "matey"-look (baggy uniforms, floppy hats, slouch, designer shades) mixed in with military gadgetry (headsets, techy assault rifles with all sorts of stuff on them). the portuguese gnr, on the other hand, tend to prefer the buff mediterranean macho look: biceps bulging from beneath tight t-shirts, designer shades (of course), swagger. the malaysian fpu is more into the "malaysian idol"-pop star type of look: fingerless gloves, bandanas, black t-shirts, the occasional necklace and yes, designer shades. sporting a more old-school approach are some of the older south asian officers: moustaches, ram-rod straight backs, even the occasional british colonial-style baton, though i havent seen them around here this time...
you've got the local police (pntl) with its various sub-units, the local armed forces (f-fdtl), the un police (unpol) and the international stabilisation force (isf) just to give you the main categories. many of their number, though by far not all, do seem to enjoy showing off their military gear, especially the ones who are in the more "special" units, such as the unpol's formed police units (fpu) or the pntl's rapid reaction force (uir). the average street cops tend to be the least intrusive of the lot.
each one of these units tends to have its own way of showing off its militarised masculinity. while the average pntl cop walks around in a simple uniform with a handgun, the uir riot squad members seem to take a special delight in wearing as much body armour as possible even when there are only little kids and old ladies around. compared to the street cops, they also have a lot more gadgets attached to their webbing - pepper spray, torches, a baton, handcuffs, etc. a further step up from this in terms of displaying muscular machismo and military gadgetry is the special "bodyguard" unit of the pntl. their uniform consists of black t-shirts, black combat trousers, a black bandana, shades and headsets. they carry numerous gadgets which i could not figure out the purpose of on their webbing gear, have a handgun plus a brand new steyr assault rifle and often a jungle knife on their belt.
in comparison, the f-fdtl members look like the poor rural cousins of these decked out cops. no extra gadgets, baggy unifroms and assault rifles from the 1970s. some of them don't even have designer shades, a faux pas unheard of in the cooler units.
the international forces tend to also have their own sub-cultures of displaying their military masculinity. the aussies tend to go for the "matey"-look (baggy uniforms, floppy hats, slouch, designer shades) mixed in with military gadgetry (headsets, techy assault rifles with all sorts of stuff on them). the portuguese gnr, on the other hand, tend to prefer the buff mediterranean macho look: biceps bulging from beneath tight t-shirts, designer shades (of course), swagger. the malaysian fpu is more into the "malaysian idol"-pop star type of look: fingerless gloves, bandanas, black t-shirts, the occasional necklace and yes, designer shades. sporting a more old-school approach are some of the older south asian officers: moustaches, ram-rod straight backs, even the occasional british colonial-style baton, though i havent seen them around here this time...
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