Timor-Leste has had a pull over me since the 1990s. As the host of SBS TV's Late News, I reported on this fledgling democracy's tragedies and traumas, and the inspiring resilience of its people.
This visit, for ABC TV's Compass, will be the first time I'll set foot on Timorese soil.
I want to know how the Timorese are faring after their traumatic past.
How is this largely Catholic nation navigating a volatile world post-COVID, with regional power shifts and the perils of climate change?
And what role should Australia be playing in its future?
One of our closest neighbours
I strap on my seatbelt with a mix of excitement and trepidation.
The propellers whirr into action as our Dash 8 buzzes along the runway and lifts off like a dragonfly seeking the sun.
Timor-Leste is not much more than a speck — just 15,000 square kilometres. To help visualise just how tiny that is, Tasmania is 4.6 times larger. That makes Timor-Leste one of the world's tiniest nations.
It's also one of the poorest. Forty per cent of Timorese live below the poverty line.
As I glance out the window, our plane makes a gentle turn and dips towards the sea.
We fly through a soft mist and emerge to see steep mountain peaks covered with dense jungles.
This is my first glimpse of Timor-Leste. It's breathtaking. It looks like a film set from Jurassic Park.
We glide over the port of Dili. It's electric with activity; a mishmash of moored cargo ships, rusting storage tanks, fishing boats, rickety wooden jetties and dusty streets buzzing with buses and scooters.
We skim over a row of palm trees and our plane lands on a runway.
Dili airport isn't much more than an airstrip with a large tin shed and several billboards welcoming visitors.
As the plane door swings open, I'm mugged by a blast of stifling humid air. Welcome to Timor-Leste!
My Compass TV crew and I are staying in downtown Dili, surrounded by street markets and rows of homes built with cement sheets, corrugated iron and tarpaulins.
They look makeshift but this is what permanent housing looks like in many parts of the country.
Meeting the president
One of my guides during this filming trip will be none other than my old acquaintance and current president of Timor-Leste, José Ramos-Horta.
We meet at his compound, situated on a dusty road grandly named Robert F Kennedy Boulevard.
Ramos-Horta has offered to take me on a sightseeing trip through the streets of Dili in his bright blue Mini Moke. It has a canvas roof and open doors.
The restoration of this Moke has been Ramos-Horta's eccentric labour of love. This is not the type of vehicle you would expect someone who has survived an assassination attempt to drive.
His security team travel close behind us in dark-windowed SUVs.
As we zip along the potholed roads, locals beep their horns at us and small children run up to the Moke, cheering in the local language Tetun: "Bomdia, avo!" — "Good morning, Grandpa!"
A traumatic past
I first met the multi-lingual José Ramos-Horta in the late 1990s when he was a regular studio guest on my SBS news program.
At the time, he was an ambassador without a nation, passionate and erudite, travelling the world and raising awareness about the atrocities the Indonesian military was committing in his homeland.
The struggles of this former Portuguese colony date back to its murderous past.
A quarter of Timor-Leste's population of 1.3 million people was killed during a brutal 24-year military occupation by Indonesia.
Against all odds the Timorese finally did win their independence. In a referendum held in 1999, three-quarters of its people voted to throw off the shackles of Indonesian rule.
Sadly, the euphoria was short-lived. Australian peacekeepers were called in as the violence flared again when Indonesian-backed militia murdered thousands and destroyed much of the country's infrastructure.
Peace was eventually restored and Timor-Leste was officially declared an independent nation in 2002.
While his comrades fought their occupiers in the mountains, Ramos-Horta waged a charm offensive to drum up international financial and diplomatic support.
From the UN cocktail circuit to television news programs like mine, Ramos-Horta was a man on a mission.
His dedication garnered him a Nobel Peace Prize and soon afterwards Timor-Leste won the freedom that had so long eluded it.
Tackling malnutrition
The 74-year-old president may now be fully grey, but the fire hasn't left him.
He shares his disappointment with the slow pace of reconstruction in his country, blaming everyone from NGOs to a lack of international investors.
The presidential role is a largely ceremonial one and you can sense his frustration.
His greatest concern is the worsening poverty and malnutrition in Timor-Leste. Half the children under five are malnourished.
One of the ways this is partly being addressed is through the Kantina Matak, a canteen started on the presidential grounds by queer-rights activist and presidential adviser Bella Galhos.
Kantina Matak provides up to 500 free meals a day to local children. It is a drop in the ocean compared to the need, but the food kitchen is changing lives. The children's joy is infectious.
The next generation
Harnessing the potential of the next generation is clearly a tension point here.
Younger firebrands like Bella Galhos are hungry to lead, but the "Generation of 75", which includes resistance heroes such as Ramos-Horta and Xanana Gusmao, have a steely grip on power.
The age divide becomes clear when talk turns to what economic direction Timor-Leste should take.
Many younger people I speak to want climate-resilient solutions; the established leadership still embraces fossil fuels.
Much hope for future economic prosperity lies with the country's Greater Sunrise oil and gas fields.
Australia has recently offered some financial concessions to kick-start the stalled joint development.
With China expanding its influence in the region, Australia has been redoubling efforts to rebuild its relationship with Timor-Leste following the rift caused by the gas treaty spying scandal.
It was revealed that in 2004 Australia's spying agency illegally bugged the Timorese cabinet offices to secure an unfair advantage in negotiations.
It's been a strain on our friendship ever since.
A deeply spiritual country
Ramos-Horta wants to take me to one of his favourite parts of the country — Ermera in the Highlands.
So, the next day our film crew join the presidential convoy which will also be delivering some food aid — bundles of blankets, oil and rice to be shared among the neediest families.
We navigate bad roads with steep drops as we climb higher and higher, passing coffee plantations and roadside villages.
Huge crowds have gathered in Ermera to greet the president and our crew.
There's an elaborate ceremony featuring drummers and statuesque tribespeople wearing feathered headdresses.
We're presented with vibrant Tais – traditional woven cloths.
Locals recreate a marriage proposal ceremony where goats and pigs are offered as part of the bride's dowry.
Animist beliefs still form an important part of the culture. While once frowned upon by the local church, animism now sits more comfortably alongside catholic teachings.
Faith is a central tenet here. Even recent child sex scandals involving high-ranking priests, including Nobel prize winner Bishop Belo, have not received the widespread condemnation we would expect.
Belief in the infallibility of their war heroes is hard to shake, as demonstrated by the rockstar crowd gathering around the president today.
A banquet for 700 people has been prepared in the village community hall. Sharing what little they have is also a distinct Timorese trait.
This very traditional society is a difficult backdrop for many young LGBTIQ Timorese struggling to live openly.
This year for the very first time, a group travelled to Sydney to represent Timor-Leste in the Sydney Mardi Gras.
Resilience and hope
Back in Dili, we retire to a nearby beachside cafe to watch a dazzling sunset. I’m reminded of the beauty of this place and its people and the costly price the Timorese have paid for their freedom.
Their capacity to forgive is truly inspiring. I have not encountered any talk of retribution or revenge for what they have suffered.
And once-brutal occupiers the Indonesians are now valued neighbours and trade partners.
The Timorese have much to teach us about resilience and the strength of community.
If faith and optimism — with a little help from good neighbours — can deliver a brighter future, Timor-Leste may well be on the right path.
Watch Indira's Road Trip with the President on ABC TV at 6:30pm on Sunday, August 18 or catch up anytime on ABC iview.
Credits
- Story: Indira Naidoo
- Digital Producers: Ngaire McNamara and Julia O'Shea
- Videos and images: Mark Bowling, Louise Heywood, Joel Stillone and Indira Naidoo
- Edit Assist: Thomas Roberts
