Tuesday 24 April 2007, Dili, East Timor

Rumblings....

East Timor is heading into a 2nd round of presidential elections on 9 May 2007 since there was no clear winner in the last round about 3 weeks ago. And yesterday the rumblings started. The Prime Minister, Jose Ramos-Horta, a candidate now for President accused the Minister of Labour, Bano, of having given 30tonnes of rice to the leader of one of the martial arts groups. One of the people I interviewed last week. In a land where there is such food insecurity and deprivation that food convoys have to be protected by the feared Portuguese GNR, rice is a very powerful commodity to buy influence.

Today the newspapers are printing Bano's denial of any wrongdoing. The request came through and was processed as per normal for distribution in the outlying district. Without explaning how come 30 tonnes of the white gold was stacked at the MAG leader's personal home unattended... Maybe to make some nasi goreng?

Anyway the politicking is beginning.. And the manipulation & propoganda machines are starting up. And smack bang in the middle of all of this lie the martial arts gangs. It will be interesting to watch - even from a distance - how they are utilised by the various political parties as they jockey for positions.

Money makes the world go round, and here politics makes it go round faster. The next few weeks will be interesting. I think we'll see an intensification of activities - with the martial arts groups possibly being drawn in on both sides. And then it is the run-up to the June 30th parliamentary elections. So these next week' activities will just be a stepping stone to those elections where much more for many more people will be at stake.

As I left the office today, the sky was a particularly inviting pink. So, while waiting for the driver to arrive I took my (laptop) bag and my camera across the road and started shooting some pictures as is my wont. when I turned around, I found myself half-encircled by about 5 boys in their late teens, a few of them holding sticks in their hands, all very interested either in what I was doing or in my camera. Either way there was a rather hungry look in their eyes. I don't speak Tetum; they clearly didn't speak English. So there was a stand-off. Although I felt that there was some menace in their stance, they also hesitated - and that gave me the opportunity to walk away as Nelson came around the corner with the car. ....

Ah the joys of being an international in a foreign place! Here are a few of the shots I took so you can see why I was so engrossed in the sky...

Monday 23 April 2007, Dili, East Timor

A slow start

I struggled to wake up thismorning, snoozing the alarm several times before hauling myself outfrom under the covers. I guess even in tropical climes the start to theweek is sometimes a difficult one.

International Relations.

Undoubtably the highlight of my day today - a very long day by any stretch of the imagination - was meeting the retired Bishop of Oslo, Bishop Gunnar. He's been appointed to facilitate the national dialogue process amongst the political leadership.

An interesting man; one whose life dedicated to the church has led him to build peace and bridges all over the world. Guatemala, Namibia, South Africa.. the names of the various countries in whose peace processes he has played a role popped up in the casual conversation over dinner at the very fancy Hotel Timor. A close friend of Tutu and Mbeki from anti-apartheid days, he also served on the Nobel Peace Prize committe for about 40 years. Now 2 years after being forced to retire at age 70 he has been commuting on a monthly basis between Oslo and Dili for the past 7 months with no sign of letting up.

A formidable person in a soft, humble way. And committed to building a peace from within Timorese society. He is interested in furthering the work that GTZ has started among the martial arts groups rather than reinventing the wheel which seems to be a sensible approach.

The international presence in Dili is huge. For a country of 14,000 square kilometres, a population of just under 1 million it seems half the population of Dili is international - in compounds, behind high fences and barbed wire. Even my hotel's like that.

All here to help. All here to make a difference. But very rarely working together it seems, or working together in silos. The challenges of this little island touch every aspect of its inhabitants' life. Yet much of the international response is targeted at delivering partial solutions only. Only food supplies. Or only security. Or only small income generating activities. There does not seem to be a co-ordinating structure that the multitude of aid activities are working in harmony with each other rather than at cross purposes.

But this kind of situation is also, rather cynically, the life-blood of many of these agencies. If a crisis did not exist, they would not be there. So create the sense of a human catastrophe, and we have a reason to be there. Keep it going and we can keep going. Of course this is not necessarily a conscious thought - but I think once one is operating in a particular paradigm you find what you are looking for. If all you have is a hammer, everything else becomes a nail.

So it is gratifying to think that the small contribution that I'm making by breezing in as an expert then breezing out after my analysis and recommendations will hopefully add some weight to concrete actions with the martial arts groups. That would be worthwhile...

On another note, Reis my interpreter was looking a little worse for wear today. Initially we put that down to him having had a late night watching movies, but as the day progressed he got more and more silent. He eventually admitted he was feeling a little glum because his friends were graduating this week from the National University and he was not. He had had to cut short his studies to work to support his family back in Lospalos on the far Eastern side of the island.

And he is one of the lucky ones. The effect of the outbreaks of physical violence are minor in comparison to the silent structural violence people suffer everyday. In 2002, 30 people were killed, 2000 homes were destroyed across East Timor. That's bad enough, but on a global stage, it would not be an extraordinary event. The fact that 174,000 people fled their homes is phenomenal. It speaks of a deep-rooted sense of insecurity that the moment something happens, the reaction is to run.

And now those people are living in IDP (internally displaced people) camps all over. And long-term damage is being done because children aren't being educated and those lucky few who have been educated are leaving the country (or more likely have left) because of the lack of employment opportunities....

Ah well, a blueish Monday for me....

Sunday 22 April 2007, Dili, East Timor

Floating....

I taught an aikido class today. I expected just to train especially since there was a Japanese yudansha teaching at the University here in Dili. However the current crisis has played havoc even with the training schedule with people being too scared to travel to train. Although we did have a small turnout when they heard that I was in town and interested in training.

It turns out that the Japanese instructor trained in Japan, was a shodan (1st degree black belt) so I was asked to take the class. An interesting experience all around. First of all I was expecting to be taught by a Japanese instructor, not to have to be the one teaching. Second, the language gap sometimes made getting the message across a trifle difficult. The poor students not only had to contend with doing the technique like I demonstrated, but also they were sometimes let down by my translator Reis who often got lost in watching the movement that he forgot to translate! Third, it would seem that as soft as I try to be in my execution of the technique, this was much harder than the group was used to. So there were many loud yelps and exclamations as we went through various techniques. But they thanked me, and were genuine in their hospitality. It was interesting that it seemed that they liked relating the technique to real life and that when I asked them to add in an additional attack rather than work simply statically they managed to pick things up far quicker. Possibly a comment on how much a part of Timorese society and culture knowing how to fight is...

I might go back on Thursday on the 39th anniversary of the death of Morihei Ueshiba, the founder of Aikido, to train with them. I am quite interested in the reaction of people to the notions of non-violence inherent in Aikido. It seems as if they have not been exposed to a different way of doing things.

I then had an interview with a shorini-kempo instructor. Who also happens to be a law professor at a private university in Dili. Reis, the interpreter, was very pleased I got to talk to him because he had done kempo for a short while in the not-so-distant past. A martial artist for the last 30 years, I found in him, as in the Kung Fu Master I interviewed yesterday, a deep understanding of the transcendent meaning of martial arts training - that it is training to become better people, not to destroy others. For him, the martial arts had 4 functions:

• To train the body physically;
• To train the mind spiritually;
• To equip the practitioner with the ability to defend him/herself; and
• To make the world a beautiful place.
  

That would be the seed to nurture amongst these various groups if they are truly to become a 'constituency for peace'.

In the middle of the day here, while across the seas Cape Town was maybe just waking up to the fact that Sunday had arrived, I went down to a beach just east of the city called White Sands. Here I found another contingent of internationals frolicking in the waves. This time the SUVs lined along the shore were mainly from the UN Police. The restaurants along the beach were also doing a roaring trade.

On a promontory overlooking the bay, the second largest statue of the Christ stands majestic in the sunlight (conceding first place only to the statue in Rio). A gift from the (muslim) government of Indonesia to the predominantly Catholic province (then) of Timor-Leste. Facing east. To Indonesia. A few years later the Indonesian army and allied militia systematically burnt and destroyed infrastructure as they withdrew from the territory.

But as I lay floating on my back in the azure waters, bobbing gently on the swell, looking up at the puffy clouds in an impossibly blue sky, the distant sounds of Reis and Nelson (my new driver) playing soccer on the shore with a group of Timorese youth, and with the beatific sight of the Christ's outstretched hands over me all of the issues facing East Timor seemed so far away.. I could just float out into the bay, keep on floating, supported by the endless ocean......

Saturday 21 April 2007, Dili, East Timor

Hei foensae Timor oan! (Hey! Youth of Timor)

This is the first line in a youth anthem if you like that has doggedly followed me this week. To such an extent that I capitulated and learnt the words! It was sung by the workshop group every day and my driver had it on cassette... So I had no choice

Music was an important part of the day today. I spent the better part of the day at a youth festival organised by GTZ and a local cultural group called Bibi Buluk (crazy god). It was a celebration of the youth of Timor and their creativity - drama, poetry, dance and music bringing teenagers together (but not too closely in this very conservative & traditional society, at least as far as gender roles is concerned). And this song made an appearance - to a rapturous welcome with everyone joining in - even I - while doing a traditional circle dance, the tebe.

The words are:

Hei! Foesan Timor oan,
Hey young people of Timor

Hei, hei, hei foesan TImor oan.
Hey, hey, hey young people of Timor

O mak fini diak no esperansa
You are the seed and the hope

Timor niniam
Of Timor

O mak fini diak no esperansa
You are the seed and the hope

ba o nia rai.
for your country

Se, se los mak foti o nia rai
Who, who will build your nation?

Sé laos foensae Timor

If not you the young people of TImor?

Se se los mak foti o nia rai
Who, who will build your nation?

Sé laos o foensae Timor.
If not you the young people of Timor?

Hei, foensae Timor oan.
Hey young people of Timor

Hei, hei, hei foensae Timor oan
Hey, hey, hey young people of Timor

Katak o hatudu ba, ba mundu tomak
Go and show everyone, tell the whole world

Timor nia diak.
How good Timor is

Everyone knows this song. And even rival MAG members sing it with gusto once they've overcome their initial reticence in front of the opposition. I think the challenge is to make them believe the words and find ways to translate it into action.

The highlight for me was a demonstration by the Martial Arts Group, Kung Fu Master:

Timorese Rock!

Another strange musical experience was Timorese rock. A little while after the community spiritof "Foensae Timor", another band came on, this time belting out some real heavy rock pieces, complete with drum solos! And they carried on.... And in the tradition of rock music, a lot of it was loud, very loud and to me somehow felt out of keeping with the 'peace' message of the day. I struggled to hear myself think above the din while talking to a real Kung Fu Master. While the participants may have enjoyed it, it did not garner the same boisterous reaction that Foensai Timor did either before or at the end of the day.

Letting one's hair down...

Now as I write this and reflect on the day, my hotel compound has been turned into the party capital of Dili it sounds like. Earlier I took a walk in the direction of the the hubub. The restaurant was hosting a live band and it seems as if this is the place where the internationals hang out. What looked like an Australian delegation had taken over the dance-floor which doubled as the pool deck when there is no band. This had dire consequences later on as one by one the members of the group were dunked - willingly or unwillingly - into the pool. All the while the band was playing everything from Rock Around the Clock to Achy Breaky Heart to Tequila Sunrise. It's one way to let your hair down after a week of sorting out other people's problems....

Two things struck me as I thoughtfully munched on my bowl of slap chips... One, that I have really missed dancing; it's been a really long time since I have been on a dance-floor and cut loose..The second thing as I felt my foot tap in time to the rhythm and felt my body sway in response to the beat was that my attention was drawn to two people: an elfin Thai girl with really great calves and a tattoo on her right ankle and a tall brunette, Brazilian perhaps, certainly not part of the group, dressed in a simple yet striking red dress.

And it wasn't that they were attractive that caught my eye, although that is true, it was that they were dancing in tune with the music. And how beautiful it is when one moves in time to the proper rhythm of the the beat, just letting it flow through you without fighting it or wanting it to fit into a preconceived notion of what should happen. Just letting it flow... Unlike some of the jagged attempts of some of the other members of the group.

And so as the Thai and Brazilian women wafted off into the surrounding gloom of the pool, I was thinking that maybe that's what needed here... Listening to the beat and finding the rhythm.....

Wednesday 19 April 2007, Dili East Timor

Finding my feet and my way round.

My driver John (Joao) finally plucked up the courage to admit that I was a bit of an oddity for a number of people. I looked slightly Timorese (to the extent that some people start talking to me in Tetum) but I don't act Timorese! He said that I looked and moved aggressively! That is the first time someone has said that about me! I'm going to take that to mean though that I come across as self-confident and self-assured, not rude and overbearing :-)

He also said that he expected me to be white since I came from Africa! Talk about perceptions. The head of the project, Dr Weyl although German is actually resident in Zimbabwe, hence the connection I guess. The third expectation that I managed to burst for John was that he was expecting an old person, so he was rather surprised to be confronted by this rather young face at the airport.

So I will have to make the most of this unsettling ability I have on people. So far I've been quite warmly received by everyone.

The poverty is endemic here. Everywhere there is the evidence of violent scars. Burnt out buildings that once were houses, bullet-ridden cars and piles of rubble that's the only memorial of a once-thriving store. Animals roam free but uncared for. Kids out on the street in the middle of the day can only spell a crisis for the long-term development of Timor-Leste. We've been reaping the 'benefits' of a "No education before Liberation" policy in the Eighties...The development needs are clearly dire.

A daily sight seems to be the food convoys driving through the streets of Dili bearing their precious cargoes of rice on trucks, all conscientiously guarded by the feared Portuguese Riot Police, the Guarda Nacional Republicana (GNR). They are feared for the their determination (read brutality) in quelling demonstrations and uprisings. Someone told me that they get while the other security agencies have live ammunition, they are under orders not to use excessive force; the GNR have no such qualms apparently using their trucheons and batons.

When the convoy drives down the street, all traffic slows to a trickle because no-one is allowed to overtake the convoy. These measures came from the recent uprising when hungry people stormed the food compound of the UN Food Programme, took the supplies and set some of the buildings alight.

What I would question though is the presence of so many different agencies for a population of just over 1 million people spread over an island that is arguably as large as KwaZulu Natal. That's the population of Khayelitsha in Cape Town. And yet we have several UN agencies, the Portuguese Riot Police, the Australian army and a coterie of INGOs and NGOs. All clogging up the potholed roads with their huge SUVs...

All wanting to help....

Some Pix

My first sunset in Dili:










East Timor from my porthole

Friday 20 April 2007, Dili, East Timor

Stormy tropics

It's about 19h00, night has fallen and the clouds that gathered during the late afternoon after a super hot, bright sunshiny day, are letting their precious cargo of water fall on the roof of my container in large plops. It's still incredibly humid, so for one accustomed to rain and cold, this takes some adjustment. Some of the storm is even trying to seep into my living quarters!

Given the metal nature of this container in which I live, the feeling I currently have is of being inside a washing machine with the water streaming down the window and the sounds of the torrential rain outside. I may delay the 100m dash to the restaurant situated inside this compound (thankfully, given the curfew that settles over Dili as the sun sets). Especially now that the thunder seems directly overhead. The solitude of the storm is very different to my 'normal' Friday night habit of curling up on the couch with the latest rerun of Friends or whatever is on TV. There isn't much by way of TV here. We do get the Australian equivalent of Fox News which seems obsessed with Al-Quaeda and game-shows.

Just before the sunset, I went for a walk along what serves as the main road that runs past teh hotel's compound. Earlier I had noticed the streets lined with flowers stuck atop bamboo poles every few metres. Also the city was a hive of activity today with literally bus- and truckloads of people (especially schoolchildren) descending on Dili from the various bairos or townships/informal settlements. Dressed in their best, the schoolchildren in neatly pressed uniforms and herded together by their teachers, my interpreter Reis explained that they were all waiting for the Cross. In this very Catholic country, the annual visitation by Mother Mary literally brings the traffic to a standstill. For kilometers people lined the street and when eventually the large wooden cross made its way down the street, people vied with each other to help carry it on its way for a short while.

A huge procession, slowly wending its way down the street. On the sidewalks the Australian army in fatigues watch on warily. On the island in the centre of the street, UN police clad in navy blue take pictures of the crowd with digital cameras smiling as they pass by. For all the strong presence of various police agencies, the crowd is peaceful (or maybe because of the police presence?)

At least this Friday Mother Mary seems to have stretched her hand over the citizens of Dili..On my way back, after the procession had passed, I saw little boys taking the bamboo poles, dropping the flowers on the ground and start chasing each other. Boys will be boys?

Speaking of which:

I got punched in the stomach today!

I was given the opportunity to lead the morning warm-up in the conflict resolution workshop I've been attending with these Martial Arts Groups. So we did some of my aikido warm-up exercises and the yoga sun salutations (which the Nepalese facilitators enjoyed). I tell you, in a humid climate like this, those sun salutations heat one up very quickly!!!!

Then I thought I would do some ki exercises to illustrate how to become aware of one's centre and to take back one's power - even in the face of an attack. The reaction was amazing. I think these martial artists were really stunned and intrigued by how such a little movement or action, a non-violent one at that could completely neutralise someone else's power.

Then I asked a karateka to punch me in the stomach. And he obliged. I can see why he won competitions.

I then asked him to punch again, harder this time... But moved out of the way, just in time, with my index finger ending up in the soft area just below his neck - to illustrate that I could choose to harm him...Or do ikkyo just to control him. He let out a yelp as I applied ikkyo which added to the dramatic effect.

I think now everyone wants to learn Aikido. I think the exercises fitted into the general flow of the workshop - where they had been talking about defining conflict, analysing it and responding to it. I think the physical metaphor of the martial arts with which they are very familiar brought an added dimension to the session. And I had fun. I think they did too. It's not everyday you get to punch a facilitator in the stomach.

Tuesday 18 April 2007, Dili

My first proper day in Dili.

Attended a workshop run by GTZ with some of members of various Martial Arts Groups (MAGs). The focus of the workshop is on getting them to articulate their ideas on conflict and conflict resolution.

In the round of introductions, each one of the participants had to identify which martial art they practiced or group they belonged to.. Some did kung fu, others did tae-kwon-do or karate. When it came to my turn to introduce myself, I admitted to practicing aikido which received quite a respectful response. ;-) I had lots of enquiries - direct and indirect - about my aikido. It seems as if (1) there is an aikido group in Dili, being taught by a Japanese instructor and (2) that they have not been part of this peacebuilding effort thusfar. I will try and see if I can't get in some training with them over the weekend. Good thing I packed my keiogi and my hakama ;-)

The group, drawn as it is from several (conflicting) MAGs was understandably wary of each other. Some had met before on a leadership workshop, but for others this was a new experience. An exercise that brought them out of their shell was a sculpting exercise where they had to create an image of what they thought of the current situation using a few pebbles, some twigs and some grass. Silently.

Without the constraint of language, the group became incredibly animated with easily 100 images being produced as participant after participant rearranged the same set of materials into new and interesting shapes. All in about 1 hour. Debriefing the exercise gave an interesting insight into how the E Timorese react and how for the most part challenges or criticisms are met with a resort to violence. This I think is exacerbated by the dire socio-economic conditions and the accompanying frustration of fundamental needs.

Some work will have to be done on the cultural level to engage with what seems to be a very macho culture, where young men only touch each other with their fists, where the sexes are kept very strictly apart and where the expression of feelings is not a conscious skill.
I have been amazed at what does come out when language is bypassed. It shows that the lack of education has an effect in frustrating people who cannot give vent to their concerns.
So we need to find a different way...

And at the end of the day, this was the sight that greeted me as I left the office.....

Monday 16 April 2007, Denpasar - Dili

Leaving Bali for East Timor today.

Breakfast in Bali was great! A tropical delight of incredibly fresh fruit whose tastes just explode on your tongue. Juicy melon, sweet pineapple and an extremely tart lime to clear my palate. Followed by a 'traditional' Indonesian breakfast of fried rice, eggs and a wafer. Yummy. The solitude of the breakfast environs is brightened a little by the cute Australian Sheila sipping her bottled water several tables away from me as she plans her day of touristy activities.

Sanur, where the Hotel Puri Kelapa is located, is about 30 minutes from the airport and quieter than the more touristy districts closer to the airport. Rs85,000 for the taxi should get you here (that's the official rate) although beware of the other taxi touts wanting to charge up to Rs100,000 just because you look a little lost and like a tourist. Just like in Joburg! Everywhere there are hundreds of sccoters around. It's the most popular form of transport around. I've even seen some women riding side-saddle! The taxi driver yesterday was saying that that was the more modest way for a woman to sit on the pillon - not this modern way with legs akimbo. Anyway, that's something for me to try when I'm back home.

Unlike most of Indonesia, Bali is 90% Hindu. One of the most heartwarming sights on my way from the airport yesterday through downtown Denpasar was a mosque, a church and a temple with a huge statue straight out of the Ramayana co-existing side by side in one precinct on a city block. A sort of miniature South East Asian Jerusalem but without the religious contestation.

Checking in, all metal objects must be removed from one's person - including in my case my belt because the big buckle was setting off the detector. I wonder if passengers have wardrobe malfunctions here? Some of the locals had to remove even their shoes; I was spared that. Now a 1hr45min trip to Dili.....

Delayed....

My flight to Dili was delayed by more than an hour due to rotational reasons, so we're only flying out at 11h30 rather than 10h05. Again the whole complexion of the flight has changed. I guess few people go to Dili on holiday. Yesterday the taxi driver assumed I was a military type when I said I was going to Dili for 2 weeks. Or from the UN. So today I'm dressed like a tourist in 3/4 pants and sporting a shirt from Zanzibar that'll help me cope with the heat a little better. Most of the foreigners now occupying the departure hall are on their way to Jakarta. One Australian-sounding chap had evacuated several weeks back, ensuring that some local Timorese too were evacuated and had not been let back to run his business it sounds like. He was heading back now on a tourist's visa. Looks like Dili will be an interesting place.

Another assumption is that I'm local. The Malay/Javanese/Indonesian part of my heritage must be coming through quite strongly in my features. Like on my last visit to Thailand, it's interesting to see the virtual doubles of people I recognise as Capetonians on the these streets.

I nearly caused an international incident at Dili airport because I had insufficient dollars for the 30USD visa charge. Sweating in line I was sent from one immigration official to another, finally interrogated about the purpose of my visit and how come I had no money on me, how much was loaded on my credit card, just who were you visiting etc... Finally I got a break when the driver who had come to pick me up (John) was allowed to come and explain the situation and the reason for my visit. And it turned out that he knew the chief immigration interrogator - so it all turned out OK.

Leaving the airport, my first impressions was of a society under seige - but not from guerillas or armed militia - rather from the pervasive presence of police - official East Timorese, the UN police force drawn from countries from around the world, the special Portuguese police force and the Australian army in full military fatigues. All offering protection and security. While we have to drive along potholed streets and burned out relics of buildings - memoirs of the Indonesian army's withdrawal and their scorched earth policy with their retreat in 1999. The country it seems has yet to recover.

Unemployment is rife - upwards of 50% depending on where in the country you are. Marginalised youth are visible on the streets everywhere (this is my target audience) when they should be in school in the middle of the day. Dogs, goats and pigs roam the streets. Traffic rules mean very little; overtaking on a barrier line in the face of oncoming traffic has been perfected by most drivers. I have yet to see a car accident though. Although I guess one cannot travel too quickly given the state of many of the roads.

My accommodation in Dili is very, very different to that in Bali! My home away from home for the next 2 weeks will be a converted container that houses 4 little cubicles (en suite it must be told), mine being one of them. This is going to be interesting......

Saturday 14 April 2007, Cape Town - Johannesburg - Bangkok

All aboard!!!

My first international trip since I went to Swaziland in 2005 according to my passport. That really is a long time between trips!

I've caught an 08h40 flight to Johannesburg this Saturday morning, thereafter a 13h35 flight from Johannesburg to Bangkok. I will be spending a total of 13 hours in transit on this leg of the journey. I'll be incommunicado for the better part of 2,5 days before I get to Dili. That's a lot of time for someone like me not to be connected. I have lots to read, and time to think. It's very rare that one gets to sit in one spot for such a long time in the hurly-burly of everyday life.

About to take off for Bangkok, and I've ended up with a whole row of seats to myself. This trip is starting on the right footing, holding much promise. There's the rumble of the powerful jet turbines as we taxi out over the runway, a brief shudder as the bird settles down into its heading to and over the Indian Ocean. The City of Gold drops below and behind us, the Golden Reclining Buddha beckons us in Bangkok. Landing gear retracted and everything smoothens out.


The sing-song voice of the purser comes on over the PA system, reminding me of my first international flight many years ago, also to Bangkok... Now I think I'm a little more seasoned as a traveller, yet each new trip still fills me with a sense of anticipation and wonder at what lies at the other end, what new experiences lie in wait for me, how I'll be touched...

Not sure what awaits me in East Timor. A presidential election last week, marred by some violence and some news of faulty counting and corruption with both the British and Australian governments issuing travel advisories to their citizens to either avoid East Timor or to get out. We'll see when we get there.

It'll also be great to work with Undine again - she's been in Cologne for nearly a year. She's a great colleague and we work well together...

It's 20h15 Cape Town time (I've not adjusted my watch yet). We're flying past the southern tip of india already. Pretty soon way down below we'll be slipping past the Tamil Tigers of Sri Lanka... I should get some sleep; all around me are the soft soporific noises of people flying off into their own dreamlands. But it's not quite bed-time for me although the curtains are drawn and it's quiet. My head is buzzing though, a maelstrom of thoughts and feelings... I've opened my journal again -to let them out, onto paper

I've reread the Book the 4 Agreements, and have decided to recommit myself to making them part of my life:

1. I will be impeccable with my word - speaking only from a position of love
2. I will take nothing personally - I will not make how I feel subject to what others say or do
3. I will make no assumptions - about others or myself and seek clarity before acting;
4. I will always do my best - This means that I will live my life intensely and take action because I love it.

This too is part of the journey, this journey.


Landing at Bangkok airport at 05h00 local time, the captain warned us that it was overcast and 28 degrees. But inside the airconditioned haven of the airport halls (endless halls!!) this was hard to believe. Until I took the short walk to the bus! As the doors of the building opened, the heat hits one like a physical force... Sawasdee, welcome to Bangkok.