Philosophical Ramblings

From the 2nd to the 13th of April, 2008, I had the privilege of traveling to East Timor with a team of students and teachers from my school. The below text are my journal entries which I had written while on the trip. Note that this is my first travel journal, so please excuse the lack of depth and detail. Note also, that the journal entries are really only an outline of what I experienced and contemplated while in East Timor. In retrospect, it was difficult to express in writing and accurately describe with language all that I had experienced, learnt and all the insights and perceptions that I had gained. This journal, therefore, is merely an outline, lacking the depth of what I can now contemplate and more readily express.

Acknowledgements, gratitude and thanks must go to various people who have in various ways contributed to or supported this trip, including Brendan, Cath, Colin, Bernie, my parents who supported this trip both personally and financially, Maurico, Tara, Ash, Laura, Sr. Rita, Br. Bill, Jenny, Azza, Lucy, Ashleigh who personally provided me with support, and the East Timorese people.

Day 1

Bon dia! We’ve arrived safely in Dili – Bernie, Colin, Cath, Tara, Ash, Laura, Maurico and myself, after our long awaited flight from Darwin. We reached Darwin in the early morning, on a Tiger Airways flight departing Melbourne at 11 PM. This was my second flying experience; the first being when I was a fetus. It was certainly thrilling, but nauseating at times. The conversation on the plane was also amusing and went on late into the night with Maurico, Tara and myself talking. We ate the remainder of Laura’s Snakes (I don’t think she noticed).

On our second flight, in the early morning as the sun rose, we boarded the light plane destined for Dili. The view was amazing – a marriage of land and sea. Arriving in Dili, the heat and humidity overwhelmed me, adding to my fatigue. Having not slept since the day we left Melbourne, I was exhausted, craving sleep as we booked into the Hotel Dili. However, that night, the heat made sleep difficult.

Colin could speak some Portuguese and thus conversed with the locals – a testament to his friendly openness. Admittedly, I struggle to overcome my own inhibitions to be as welcoming as he is.

Many things struck me about Dili – one of the most prominent being the refugee camp situated directly across the road from our hotel. People lived there and in many other camps interspersed throughout Dili. The crumbling infrastructure; the poor quality of the roads and paths, standing stark contrast to comfortable, familiar and well-paved Melbourne streets. What struck me also was the friendliness of the locals as testified by their smiles and warm greetings. They would wave and greet you with “Bon dia” or “Bon tarde”, always smiling, never frowning as they said hello. The brightness in the smiles of the children would also in turn effect us into smiling.

The team walked throughout Dili, arriving at the Santa Cruz cemetery – the site of a massacre on November 12, 1991. According to Bernie, the people ran to the grotto – sacred space – with hope for security and protection. This testifies to the faith of the people, largely Catholic, who in a time of terror field to sacred space for protection. It was the news of this tragic event that catalyzed the interest of students at Sydenham.

Day 2

Today we took a scenic drive through-out the country-side of Timor, through its many winding hills and valleys and to the Our Lady of Fatima school in the village of Railacoe. Sydenham has been supporting developments of the school there. Once there, we attended a First Friday Mass and meet some of the teachers, Sr. Rita and Sr. Elma (Director of the School) and Fr. Samy, the school’s chaplain. As the team walked toward the school’s main assembly area where a welcoming party performing a traditional East Timorese dance and music greeted us. Each of the team was gifted a scarf, or tais, as they are known there. The tais were composed of many intertwining fabrics of vivid colour to form an overall pattern. The team attended two of Sr. Rita’s English classes. From the experience, I have set the goal of learning new languages.

As we embarked on our return journey to Dili, the Prado stopped. The road was obstructed by a giant boulder (and its friends), with more rocks steadily falling from the weakened cliff-face. One smaller rock blocked a narrow portion of the road, just large enough for our Prado to pass through. No body dared move it. Bernie than took initiative and cast the stone aside, allowing the Prado and other vehicles to pass through. We followed on foot. As we walked by, more rocks began to loosen and fall on to the road from the cliff-face. We bolted, that is, we ran. The landslide highlighted for me the plasticity of the land. You could tell we weren’t locals though. While the locals stood wisely further away from the cliff-face, we stood in the middle road, closer to the cliff-face, which I might add, was crumbling steadily. This reminded of the advice of a frequent traveler, St. Augustine, who wisely said, “When in Rome, do as the Romans’ do.” Later we agreed not to tell our presumably concerned parents of this incident until after the trip.

That night, by the shore, we dined as a fishing restaurant. We ate, watching the sunset and the lighting flash silently in the distance. Colin, assuming that the local waitress didn’t speak English, requested in Portuguese for some “Aqua tonica.” The lady replied, in perfect English, “Tonic water?” We had the opportunity to choose the fish we would eat. Ashleigh remarked, “Awww.. I want the green one.” To which Maurico replied, “It’s not a pet Ashleigh, you’re gonna eat it.” The fish was quite nice.

Day 3

Today, the team journeyed to Baccau, a seaside township approximately 150 kilometers from Dili. While we traveled, we admired the scenery and for a while stopped to stretch our legs and watch local fishermen as they work in canoes made from their own hands. As the waves gently met the golden shore, they brought with them the skeletons of coral and shells, one of which was exceptionally large – indeed, the largest shell I had ever seen – larger the average human’s pelvic girdle.

As we journeyed, it came time for Ash, Tara and myself to sit in the back of the Prado – a place notorious for its limited legroom and overall restricted space. Much to our amusement, Tara, Ash and I became delusional almost, laughing at even the stupidest things.

Wandering through Baccau, the team met many people. One of them was Azza, an East Timorese man that we met at the Church where we later attended Mass. We also met Lucy, a young woman from Melbourne who was doing voluntary work in East Timor. Unlike us, Lucy could speak Tatum and she did so with the locals. Earlier, we met Jenny, whom Bernie had befriended on his previous trips to East Timor.

We met some highly playful children at the Church in Baccau. A little boy among the group played with a bunch of elastic bands tied together. To me, this highlighted how children here generate their own amusement, while in contrast, the Western public tends to rely greatly on pre-packaged entertainment. Here, you could see the people’s resourcefulness, their innovation and their imagination.

Later, we attended Mass at that Church. Funnily enough, Moz and Tara almost fell asleep. Ash remarked that she felt all churched out and that she had been to Church more frequently in East Timor than she had in Australia.

What interested me in Baccau was how close the township was to the cliff-face. One house was located next to a massive boulder, equivalent to the size of the house.

The team had dinner at a restaurant called Ben Fica, meaning ‘Pleasant Stay.’ While we were eating and conversing over dinner, the lights went out. In the dark, Maurico ‘accidently’ ate from Ashleigh’s plate. For a while, that night, we had a candlelit dinner. During dinner, Colin suddenly burst into uncontrollable laughter. Apparently, Cath had said something that Colin thought in his mind and he found it to be hysterical. We later learnt that the thought that drove him into hysterical fits of laughter was a comment on the noodles that Laura ordered. Colin thought, “That’s the most expensive two minute noodles I’ve ever seen.” In retrospect, it really wasn’t that funny, but I guess you just had to be there.

The team enjoyed conversing (as much as we could) with the children behind the guesthouse who took an interest in us. They were gripped with fascination at their own photographs, which we showed them after attaining permission to photograph them. Their smiles were incredible and their attitude immensely friendly towards us. Once they learnt our names, they would call to us whenever they saw us.

That night, while Tara, Ash, Laura, Moz and myself were writing in our journals (which you are currently reading) in the common room of the guesthouse, Colin entered and requested some water. It turned out, as he soon disclosed, that Colin almost swallowed detergent, mistaking it for water as he rinses his mouth. Our laughter resounded through the thin walls.

After Colin departed for bed, the remaining party (myself included) experienced the fright of a lizard and grasshopper. Tara, Maurico and I stayed up and conversed until midnight. Sometimes I wonder whether they chose to stay up with me since I couldn’t fall asleep. If that were correct, I greatly appreciate their company on nights that otherwise would have been lacking humour, laughter and friendly conversation.

Day 4

We awoke later than usual this morning, which is excellent considering the late night we had. The team embarked on a scenic drive through the hills. The tress and moss clung to the massive boulders, many stones and igneous rocks, seemingly holding them in place. Our destination was the beach at Baccau. It was, by far, the best beach I had ever seen in my life. The sand was dazzling golden and the water warm and clear as crystal. As we travel through this landscape, I continue to find it overwhelmingly rich in natural beauty.
As most of the team splashed around in the water, much to our amusement and humour, from our angle, Bernie, who was on the beach, appeared to be wearing no clothes. He appeared naked. He was, of course, wearing clothes, but the way in which he was positioned and the angle from which we could see him, gave us the impression that he was naked. Maurico later drew a graphical representation in his journal.

There was a small conflict on the beach where a UN police ran over a dog which happened to belong to a local. The local became highly distressed and the UN officer offered him compensation. However, just before the officer was to pay compensation, the dog, seemingly in a miracle, got up and simply walked away.
Returning from the beach, the team was covered in sand and still dripping in seawater. We each decided to have a mandi – a type of shower where one pours the water over oneself. Realizing that each of us, Tara, Maurico, Laura, Ash and myself, wanted to have a mandi, we collectively decided to have one together, conserving both water and time. It was the first time that I had ‘mandied’ and also the first that I had washed with other people. The photographs testify to this. I couldn’t think of any better people to mandi with.
Colin, Cath, Ash and Laura boarded a microlet to the markets, while Tara, Maurico, Bernie and myself walked up the hillside (very steep hillside) to the top of the cliff where the view of Baccau below and the surrounding landscape was nothing less than stunning. We could see the township of Baccau below, the rice fields, the shore and the wide and bright blue sea with the Indonesian islands on the horizon.

Tragedy struck. The rain from the previous night had loosened a tree, which feel upon the house of a local family injuring an infant. Though I did not myself see the faces of the family affected, Cath the described the father as appearing devastated, perhaps at contemplating how close he was to loosing his child. Colin suggested that we collect some money to donate to the affected family, which we did. Hopefully, our small giving goes a long way to providing some relief to the family. I am reminded of Mother Teresa who wisely remarked, “It is not the magnitude of our giving, but the amount of love that we put into it.” When Colin and Cath gave the donation to the family, with Jenny as interpreter, they described it as a highly emotional scene.
Later that day, Jenny, an East Timorese local who worked with the World Food Program and could speak seven languages, spoke to us in an interview, offering insight into education and the role of the WFP in East Timor. She spoke also of her dreams and aspirations, and in doing so, reminded me that every person has dreams. She appeared to me to be a strong character, whose determination and focus would allow her to move toward realizing her aspirations. I admired her optimism perhaps more than her achievements, for her attitude testified to a strong and determined character. One of the many things I have learned on these travels, from people such as Jenny, Colin and Bernie, is that success is not defined by achievement, but rather by attitude, passion, focus and choices. This reminds me of J.K. Rowling who said, “It is our choices… that show what we truly are, far more than our abilities.”

As a result of the tree falling earlier in the day, electricity in this part of Baccau has been cut. Dinner, therefore, was candlelit, and even now, I write this under the candlelight. Our walk from the restaurant to the guesthouse was interesting, as there was little light to guide us and we could see the path save in the glimpse of a flicker of light from the headlights of an oncoming car.

Tomorrow, we are apparently visiting the teachers’ college in Baccau and then departing Baccau on a return trip to Dili. I found it interesting that most of us were grumbling about staying in Baccau, but now, after experiencing its rich beauty and friendly local people, we do not want to leave.

Late at night, Colin guided us out of the guesthouse on to the road, breaking curfew, to gaze at the stars. Never in my life had I seen the stars shine, glisten and sparkle so brightly. The celestial band of the Milky Way appeared so dazzling and radiant. It reminded me of the Christian hymn, “My God, How Great Thou Art.” The plan was, if we could see the headlights of a car on the road, we would hide behind the Prado. The price for breaking curfew would be a fine. A car did pass, and we ducked bind the Prado was planned. However, the car stopped. We hid as best as we could, fearing to be seen. Luckily, it was only locals, not the UN police. We departed our hiding space and continued gazing into the oceans of heaven. We were caught out of curfew in the end by a force more powerful than the UN police, Cath. (Joking). Luckily, however, given that Colin was a guide to breaking curfew, she didn’t mind too much. Indeed, she only looked from the balcony because she thought that the noise outside was from someone stealing petrol from the Prado. Truly, I had never seen the stars so bright and dazzling. My only wish at this moment was to share this amazing sight with Ash.

In contrast to school camps, where it’s common praxis for the teachers to sit and talk in the common room until they had reason to believe that the students were asleep, here on this particular trip, the teachers have all gone to bed and we, the students, are sitting here talking late into the night, by candle-light. The candles’ are almost spent; soon we’ll be in darkness.

Day 5

Never a dull day in East Timor. Today, we journeyed to a technical college outside Baccau, run by the Salesians. I was incredibly impressed by the craftsmanship and the depth of detail placed into the work. I also noticed that one of the students at the college wore a Salesian College Chadstone t-shirt. I assume, therefore, that the College donated it. Bernie remarked that while students at the school were gaining technical skills, their still remained a lack of opportunity to apply them.

While leaving the tech college, the team learned that the World Youth Day Cross and Icon would be coming to a township not far from where we were, approximately 10 kilometers in distance. Collectively, the team decided to take a detour to see it. Unfortunately, I was running low on battery to film this part of our journey in detail.

Arriving at the site through which the Cross and Icon would pass through, we noticed local preparations for the procession. While on the road, we also took note of the many locals walking to the site of procession from their homes many miles away. To me, this testified to their commitment to the maintenance and expression of their faith.

We wandered through a girl’s school, meeting some of the local people. As we positioned ourselves alongside the road, awaiting the procession, a multitude of local children surrounded us, curiosity prevalent in their faces. Wherever we walked, they would follow. Never before had I been followed by such a vast crowd, especially so young. As we waited, Cath and Ash smiled and stared back at the children surrounding us. This method, we discovered, made them shy so that they would hide behind one another.

We continued to wait, perhaps for three hours or more. We should have paid attention to the large thick clouds descending upon the valley, for rain suddenly swept the plains. Colin, as he done so many times previously, sang. “Rain drops falling on my head…” The rain persisted, saturating our clothes. Colin’s umbrella, which he had bought from the markets at Baccau for $1.50 US, proved of little use. The wind twisted the umbrella and contorted it. Indeed, he got his money’s worth he himself would later remark. We did, however, manage to find some shelter until the rain ceased.

Colin became distressed by a comment Laura made. I was there, though I don’t really understand what happened. Apparently, as Colin had his umbrella opened indoors, Laura remarked that it was bad luck, and that we’ve had bad luck following us for that reason. Colin took issue with this, remarking that this country had been through wars and disasters far more profound. Later, while the rain pelted, Bernie commented this was our third disaster. Colin remarked that he would not call this rain a “disaster”, perhaps highlighting that our definition of “disaster” is not a real disaster, not even a tragedy.

Waiting continuously, the practices raise many false alarms. At last, the procession began. A cultural display ensued with men bearing ceremonial arms and banners, beating on drums, followed by women clanging cymbals. Trucks followed, each carrying representatives from various townships, shouting aloud the praises of their home. The Cross led this parade. However, the team was stunned that it was not the actual WYD Cross and Icon, but rather an East Timorese variation. We were slightly disappointed that our expectation was not met to a degree, as the silence in the silence in the Prado on the journey back to Dili would testify. On the bright side, as Colin highlighted, we did witness the East Timorese people congregate together to celebrate and reaffirm their cultural identity and express their faith.

On the drive back to Dili, the team was quite hungry. Colin bought bananas and biscuits to satisfy our hunger on the long ride (three-and-a-half hour ride) back to Dili. We stopped for a while to switch seating positions. Once again, Tara, Ash and I were in the back seat, highly cramped and almost delirious in laughter. I guess it was just the effect the back seat had on us. As we drove through the winding hills, by the seaside, the sunset was beautiful, mirrored on the ocean like light on glass.

Day 6

A little birdy told me that I was in trouble today. As I was walking toward breakfast, Maurico told me that Ash, himself (and by extension myself) were in trouble from Cath for the noise we had made the previous night. Apparently, she called us “attention seekers”, which made me wonder whether I am an attention seeker. I had previously thought on this trip that I had tried to hoard attention. Is this an affirmation of what I previously thought?

The team drove to Railacoe today. The road was slightly perilous. It seemed as though the rain of the wet season was literally washing the road away. To me, this not only further highlighted the plasticity of the continually changing landscape, but also the prospect of crumbling infrastructure, which may prove a major problem in transportation and resource management, as well as a traffic and safety hazard.

With regards to safety, we took a note of a woman riding a motorcycle with an infant and an aid ute transporting a number of people in the truck with little space for movement. Colin reminded us that many people here lack safer options and are thus driven to take greater risks.

At Railacoe, the team managed to participate in two English classes, assisting the students in their studies of the language. Sr. Rita described having us, young people, teach English, as having provided an “injection of enthusiasm” for the students’ in their academic pursuits. The students’ certainly were enthusiastic and eager to learn. We managed to learn some tetum in the process. The phrase, “Ne saida iha in tetum?” meaning “How do you say … in tetum?” also proved highly useful in communication.

While in Railacoe, we also visited the SPC convent. On the road, we encountered many children, to whom we gave some tennis balls for their leisure. The smiles on their faces were priceless.
On the drive back to Dili from Railacoe, I felt a sense of nausea and so I was quiet and engaged very little in conversation, which revolved largely around childhood television programs such as Arthur, Barbar and Disney movies.

Colin’s colleuge, Tim, from an NGO called Plan joined us at the Hotel Dili and spoke of his work in East Timor and the challenges this young nation faces in health and education. He commented that East Timor, being a young nation, have a government that was still learning to be a government. Tim also spoke of child sponsorship and remarked on how the funds from sponsorship donations are used to improve the community and environment to thereby improve the child’s welfare by encouraging a supportive environment for personal and community growth.

After Tim departed, the company had dinner at Hotel Dili, followed by our first taste of ice cream in East Timor. Bernie told Tara and I an interesting personal story, spanning many years of his life, of how he became involved in East Timor. His story intertwined both personal tragedy and hope.

Over dinner, Colin, Tara and I discussed our observation of the friendliness and open smiles of the local people in comparison to Melbourne. Colin commented that upon returning to Australia from Mozambique, he could not enter Highpoint, a popular shopping mall in the Western suburbs of Melbourne. It has amazed me how people here, who may lack many material assets and comforts, still greet one with broad smiles and remain hospitable and generous. It reminds of Luke’s Gospel, where Jesus tells the parable of the rich man who could afford to give large sums of his own wealth, and the poor women who could not afford to give, yet still gave what she could. Jesus asked, “Who gave more?” At the table, I raised the idea that perhaps in the West, vapid materialism and consumerism sever to separate us from each other. It seems as though we attach ourselves to our assets, isolating ourselves from each other in the process. Not belonging, isolation and loneliness is what Mother Teresa referred to as the greatest depravity of our age.

At the table, we discussed mottos. Cath’s motto was, “While there is breathe, there is life.” Colin’s was “Nil illegitimus carborundrum”, meaning “Don’t let the bastards get you down.” Colin also gave us an analogy for life, describing life as a pubic hair on a toilet seat, where someone would be bound to come and piss you off.
Gazing at the night sky above Dili, Colin taught the team how to locate true south, Beattlejuice, Sirius and Orion.

Day 7

The usual road we take to Railacoe was perilous, since the rain had almost literally washed away the road. Instead, we took the road less traveled by, going into the hills and weaving among the forest trees. This road too turned out to be long and hazardous, in the sense of many bumps and uneven dirt track.

The team stopped for a while to view a war memorial gifted to East Timor by the Australian people in recognition of the East Timorese who assisted the plight of Australian soldiers in World War Two.

We continued our travels in the Prado, with Bernie at the helm. The team arrived at the Railacoe villages where Tara and Maurico played football with the local children. I had an interesting conversation with a young local who is being sponsored by Gregory Parade and Sr. Rita to attend World Youth Day 2008 in Sydney. He appeared aspiring and excited about his oncoming travels, first to Brisbane and then to Sydney.

The team managed to meet again with Br. Bill and his associates who showed us a local family’s home. The house itself was highly basic having no electricity save for the solar panels, which powered a single light bulb. Br. Bill and his associates installed the solar panels.) The walls were composed of thatched bamboo and the room composed of corroded tin. The floor was made of hard concrete. The kitchen was rather simple, just a wood fire, and located outside the main portion of the house. There was one bed, in which the entire family of about seven slept. The people within the home maintained hospitable smiles and were very welcoming and friendly.

Br. Bill guided the team past a local school where the music teacher Able (nicknamed Frank Sinatra) welcomed us into his classroom where his class sang, “Welcome to the Family.” Truly, Able’s enthusiasm is accurately reflected in his smile, which is without a doubt, the largest smile I had ever witnessed. The team offered the children gifts of sporting equipment which they were eager to use and quite thankful for.

That evening, dinner was at the City Café where Sr. Rita joined us. There were at least five geckos’ on the wall at one time, much to Ashleigh’s discomfort. Funnily enough, at almost every dinner we have had on this trip, Tara has added a new stain to her clothes. But I’ve also had my share of embarrassing moments, one being where I couldn’t figure out how to open the door of the Prado, yet it was, of course, so simple.

As we drove through the hills, returning to Dili, the clouds touched the road, gliding through one open car window to the other. We felt like we could step outside of vehicle and capture a cloud.

Day 8

Today, the team didn’t journey anywhere beyond Dili. Our first location was the Christo Rei statue, standing high on a hilltop by the sea. We climbed the winding stairway to the peak, passing each of the Stations of the Cross as we went by. The encircling stairway itself, ascending to the peak of the hill, was surrounded by a forest of lush green. Close to the peak, where Christo Rei gloriously stood with arms wide open to the world, we encountered three Australian military officers who had been based in Dili. One even happened to be a priest. From the pinnacle of that hill, we could see far off into the distance. The summer sun glistened brilliantly upon the bright blue water below, in which we could discern the figure of a coral reef, an oceanic forest growing off the shore.

The team then visited the Cannosian sisters’ convent in Dili. Last year, the convent opened its doors to approximately 28 000 people who lived on its grounds. This year, its grounds are home to approximately 5000 people seeking refuge and a space to live. The team also visited some surrounding Churches, one of which was beside the sea. Behind the large stone statue of St. Anthony holding the Christ Child in his arms, was a refugee camp. Colin commented something akin to it being good of the Church to fulfill its mission in assisting these people, offering them a place of refuge, a space to live.

Our journey turned to the Australian Embassy in Dili where we attended a conference discussing the key challenges facing East Timor, the pillars of focus that Australia aimed to observe and the strategies for achieving its goal in assisting the growth of a prosperous East Timor. The people in attendance were largely representatives from various NGOs’ who were undertaking development projects in the young country. I was pleased to the ambassador enthusiastic about these endeavors. I also took note of the structural features of the meeting room. It was largely modern, carpeted, well painted and well furnished, equip with lights, temperature control and electronic devices including a plasma television. That room, with all its modern furnishing and design, stood in stark contrast to the small local home with a single solar-powered light and plastic chairs, a concrete floor and bamboo walls that we had seen only a day earlier in the Railacoe villages.

Day 9

Our final journey to Railacoe. The touring party taught English to two classes, each equivalent to Year 11 classes in Australia. Many of the students would not be attending World Youth Day in Sydney so we brought WYD to them in the sense that Laura and Maurico sang and taught the WYD theme song, “Receive the Power” to the Railacoe students. One could discern a certain enthusiasm in the students and their study of English that one hopes will continue, as highlighted in a farewell message to the students, read in Tetum by Maurico.
While in Railacoe, we also bore witness to the fruits of the feeding program. The young children involved washed their hands prior to eating – a highly important lesson in hygiene which Colin described as “development in progress.” The children sat and ate their meal together. It was interesting to note that many disliked the liver, not unlike many children in Australia.

As we were reciting our farewells to the Railacoe School, Sorello, an English-speaking local sang for us a song in Tetum, which he later translated and gave to Laura. The lyrics of that song explored injustice and oppression. Sr. Rita also offered her final sentiments, in which she highlighted that people need more than money to support them. People require connection and understanding and most of all hope. They need to know that they are cared about and belong. Sr. Rita ended her speech, stating in words akin to that of St. Francis of Assisi, “It is in giving that we receive.” Giving, of course, more than mere monetary wealth, but giving a wealth of time, effort, energy, passion and hope to people.

As we drove in the Prado, absorbing every bump and movement, Cath commented on the poorer quality of the roads in contrast to Melbourne roads, remarking that we take even our roads for granted.

The Railacoe company encompassing Sr. Rita, Sr. Elma, Fr. Samuel and Fr. Bong surprised the team at the Hotel Dili, offering their final farewells and wishes for safe travels.

Tonight, dinner was at the One more Bar restaurant – a very Australian themed, bright and musical space, with the Essendon versus West Coast game on every screen. Once again, the contrast between this bright, entertaining space and the home of the local family that we visited in the Railacoe villages, was massive.

Day 10

Early morning sunrise heralded the beginning of our return journey to Darwin, flying with AirNorth. Returning to Darwin, Cath highlighted how quickly we were struck by a burst of commercialism that was vastly absent in East Timor. “Buy this and it will make you happy”, she said, commenting on this constant message saturating our senses.

The team arrived at the Comfort Inn Hotel in Darwin for a day-stay where we swam in the hotel pools, conversed and reflected on the journey thus far.

Colin spoke much of his life experiences, including how in his final senior year of secondary school, he developed his sense of self-direction, catalyzed by being appointed his school’s Social Justice Leader. He described himself prior to that experience as being rather like a lamb, following public trends. In a way, I can relate to Colin, as for many years in secondary school I felt the same sense of absent direction, not necessarily in academic studies, but elsewhere in life. My experience of OCD and hospital in Banksia helped to catalyse a chain of events that would assist me to more closely identify myself and find the direction that I longed for.

I am now writing this, my last entry for this chapter of my East Timor journey, on the return flight to Melbourne. In retrospect, this has truly been an incredible, touching, thought-provoking, insightful and mind-broadening experience. It is my hope that I can the insight I have gained through this experience and share it with you and my fellow Australians. For me, this remarkable journey has highlighted not only the massive disparity of opportunity, but also that there is opportunity and potential for development. Where there is a will, there is a way. There is and remains a spark of hope in people – people who retain the very real capacity to make a difference.