It's five years on from independence, and as the troubled country gears up for Monday's elections , people there tell Joe Humphreyshow they see the future
Frangelino is sitting on a wooden bench near a taxi-stop when The Irish Times arrives. With an inquisitive air, he tests his English on us. "I like mathematics," he says, "and chemistry, physics, biology; I want to be a scientist." Clearly a bright lad, Frangelino speaks lucidly about his education and his plans. He's the sort of quietly determined, outward-looking 20-year-old you could image topping his class in university, or maybe setting up a small business, if he happened to be from Ireland. But Frangelino is from East Timor.
A few feet away from where he speaks is the crumpled hulk of a government vehicle - hijacked and torched last month by armed gangs who had previously brought the small, southeast Asian nation close to civil war. In a nearby laneway, a column of Australian troops searched youths for weapons that might be used to destabilise Monday's presidential election - the first such poll since East Timor's independence in 2002.
Few adults can be seen in Frangelino's neighbourhood - partly a knock-on effect of the recent unrest, which caused tens of thousands of families to flee to the countryside. The demographic profile is also a legacy of East Timor's bitter occupation by Indonesia - a foreign power that wiped out a third of the Timorese population through starvation and slaughter.
Today, East Timor has one of the youngest populations in the world (40 per cent of people are under the age of 14). The country is also the poorest in Asia, thanks in large part to the Indonesian army, which destroyed most of the infrastructure on departing the former Portuguese colony. Unemployment is conservatively estimated at 50 per cent. For youths like Frangelino survival depends upon small change - like the dime he has lodged for safekeeping in his right ear when we meet him.
"I was in college but I had to stop because I couldn't pay the fees," he says. "The government doesn't help so I am trying to save." About the only employment available, he explains, is selling newspapers or mobile phone credit on the street. "If you sell $100 (€75) of phone credit you get $2 (€1.50)." His eyes lower with what seems to be shame. "I did it one day and I sold $5; I got 5 cents." Shortly after he finishes speaking, our transport comes. We say goodbye and go on our way, thinking of how Frangelino must have felt doing a day's work for the price of a sweet.
East Timor is, in every sense, an uncomfortable place to visit. There is no easy way of reaching the remote half-island, 500km north of Darwin, Australia, nor of travelling around it. Although only a fifth the size of Ireland, it takes at least five times as long to get anywhere, so bad are the potholed, snake-like roads that regularly disappear behind tropical rains, mountain fog and landslides.
Timor is an uncomfortable place to visit emotionally too. Not only do you have to hear sad stories such as Frangelino's but you must delve into the heart-breaking history of his homeland. You must acquaint yourself with the victims of Indonesian rule - from 1975, when a murderous invasion began, to 1999, when Timorese who voted for independence were mercilessly hacked down by Indonesian-backed militia.
You must learn about the role played by certain western governments in giving Indonesia diplomatic and military support for many years. And you must ask whether the United Nations, despite all its good intentions, is really capable of "nation-building".
One person who has made the long, difficult journey to the heart of East Timor is Tom Hyland. A former bus driver from Ballyfermot, Dublin, he first learnt about East Timor from a TV documentary broadcast in 1992, a few years after he was laid off by CIE. Along with some neighbours who were also unemployed at the time, he founded the East Timor Ireland Solidarity Campaign - a group that persuaded successive governments to champion the Timorese cause internationally, as well as to send Defence Forces troops to the country to secure the outcome of the 1999 ballot for independence.
Today, Hyland can be found chugging around Dili on his second-hand motorbike, stopping off to meet everyone from government ministers to jobless youths. Officially, he is employed by the Timorese department of foreign affairs to teach English to the local diplomatic corps, swear-words in a Dublin brogue included. Unofficially, he is something of a social worker, living among the young of Timor, and also funding dozens of them through college from his own salary.
A clandestine visitor to Dili during the years of occupation, he has been a resident there since 2000, and has seen first-hand how the population has suffered. Conscious of East Timor's international image as something of a lost cause, he says: "Things are difficult at the moment, yes. But in 1999, there was nothing. Everything had been destroyed."
Like many, he believes the UN was too hasty in announcing its withdrawal from East Timor last year. Under pressure from cash-conscious donors, the international body was scaling down its local mission, UNMIT, when violence erupted. The main trigger of the fighting was a government decision in April 2006 to sack a group of soldiers who had gone on strike amid claims of discrimination in the army. Passions were inflamed by intemperate comments from politicians, including President Xanana Gusmão, who was widely blamed for helping to revive an ancient but largely artificial division between "easterners" and "westerners" in East Timor.
Following the unrest, the UN agreed to extend its mandate in the country until February 2008. Australian and New Zealand peacekeeping troops restored order, but only after 37 people had died with more than 150,000 displaced. As many as half of these remain homeless, and are sheltering today either with relatives or in refugee camps such as that on the grounds of Dili hospital.
"People are frightened to move - especially with the elections coming up," says Jose da Costa (43), a school teacher who lives with his family of nine on a tiled floor outside one of the hospital's clinics. "Compared to 1975 and 1999, this is worse. People are asking, 'What did we suffer all that loss for? For this?' What's so sad is that it's internal destruction - suco (village) against suco." The crisis has also affected the regions, particularly Manufahi, where rebel Alfredo Reinado - the leader of the main anti-government faction - had been hiding up until a few weeks ago. On March 4th last, Australian troops attacked his base in Same, killing five of Reinado's soldiers but failing to capture the man himself, who has considerable popular support.
The fighting meant markets were closed for almost a month, and emergency aid programmes - such as that run by Concern at Weberek, in southern Manufahi - had to be suspended. The Irish Times visited the centre the day it re-opened to see hundreds of families queuing for food supplements and immunisation shots. A few of the children had bloated bellies - a clear sign of malnutrition.
"Whoever becomes president, we hope they give some support to the people," says local villager Aurelia da Costa, a mother of three who has no family income. Asked to compare her situation now with that before independence, she replies: "Life was better then. Now it's very difficult to get work." The Hak Association, a Timorese human rights group, fears the government is using the elections to deflect attention from underlying problems, such as poverty and a poorly-functioning administration. "Politicians think the elections will solve the crisis. They will not," says Jose Luis de Oliveria, director of the group, which is part funded by the Government's overseas development arm Irish Aid. He says there is a particular need to combat a widespread "culture of impunity", noting that those responsible for the massacre of innocent civilians during Indonesian rule have never been held accountable.
"People are still traumatised," says James Dunn, a former Australian diplomat who now acts as a political adviser to the Timorese government. "The trauma goes right back to the Japanese invasion [during the second World World]. Each episode in the country's history since then has had similar characteristics - horrendous atrocities about which really nothing was ever done."
For some youths, the violent gangs that caused much of the recent unrest are a form of escape from - and also retribution for - this trauma. The groups, bearing names such as Korka and 77 (Seti-seti), engage in bitter turf wars, fighting hand-to-hand with machetes and rama ambons - home-made catapults that fire crude but deadly steel arrows.
Clarewoman Emma O'Loghlen, a psychologist with local mental health organisation Pradet, reports that "gang identity is stronger than national identity" among certain youths. With little if any job prospects, the average teenager is vulnerable to depression and alcohol abuse - the latter of which is exploited by sellers of tuamutin, a cheap, egg-flavoured local brew. "Mental illness is a huge problem here, but it's just not on the agenda at the moment," says O'Loghlen.
"The country needs a lot more help, and it has to be long-term," says Hyland, who is glad to learn that Irish Aid has just extended the lease on its Dili headquarters by 10 years. He says a "deeper" commitment from the aid community is also needed, suggesting Ireland could play a valuable role in "mentoring" East Timor in areas such as tourism and education. This would be similar to a role Norway is playing in helping to manage the country's oil revenues - now coming on stream under an Australian-led exploration of the Timor Sea.
To those grumbling about the cost of such involvement, Dunn has an answer.
"People keep saying, 'look at all the international community has done for East Timor'. But I say, 'look at all it has done to East Timor'."
As the Easter Monday election approaches, tension is mounting in East Timor. Dozens of people have been injured in sporadic clashes linked to the poll. Despite the ever-present setbacks, however, there are signs of hope. People are back working the land, and fresh reconciliation efforts are under way. Money may be hard to find, but "at least we are free", says local peace activist Antero "Nito" da Silva. "We don't have to run to the mountains to hide (like under Indonesian occupation)." Da Silva, who spent two years studying in Dublin under an Irish Aid scholarship programme, was shot with a rama ambon arrow and nearly killed during last year's unrest in Dili. But he is not bitter, and nor is he pessimistic about his country's future. Describing the easterner-westerner conflict as "temporary", he says: "There is a lot of intermarriage and common relations between the two sides, so the chances of a Rwanda- or Bosnia-type situation are not there."
To Hyland, the key challenge for the country is job-creation.
"The people need good political leadership," he says, "but also a vested interest in the economy to keep things stable."
The cost of success in East Timor may seem great to donor organisations that are always itching to cut and run. But the cost of failure is arguably greater. Don't forget that, for all its problems, this troubled little country is blessed with rich natural resources and a relatively homogenous society that has overcome massive odds in the past. If the international community can't build a nation here, then where can it build one?
Joe Humphreys and Bryan O'Brien travelled to East Timor with the assistance of Irish Aid under its Simon Cumbers Media Challenge Fund. Concern also contributed to travel expenses Their reports and extensive photo galleries are freely available at www.ireland.com/focus/timor/
The East Timor file
History:A former Portuguese colony, East Timor was invaded by Indonesia in 1975. Up to 300,000 people, or a third of the population, perished during Indonesian occupation.
Independence:After a 1999 ballot for independence, the UN took control of the territory for two and a half years. In May 2002, the country officially became an independent state, making it the world's newest nation.
Elections:A presidential poll takes place on Monday. Nobel Peace Prize winner Jose Ramos Horta and "Lu-Olo" Guterres, who is backed by the ruling party, Fretilin, are the main candidates in a field of eight. The winner will replace former guerrilla leader Xanana Gusmão, who is set to run for prime minister in June's parliamentary elections.
Population:857,000; GDP per capita 320
Economy:Coffee accounts for 90 per cent of exports. The country's oil-rich sea is being exploited under a joint-venture with Australia.
Irish involvement:Irish Aid is spending 6.48 million in East Timor this year in areas such as local government and human rights protection. Concern is working in the country, helping internally displaced people and other vulnerable groups. Trócaire says it is planning to set up an office in the country soon.