Late Night Live In Timor-Leste

Most of a long day was spent in and around Parliament House, a recently constructed and already deteriorating complex of dazzling white buildings. Parliament was sitting, focussing on the budget – an interim budget to help East Timor change the gears of financial-year reporting. Word was that Prime Minister Gusmão was not attending because of illness, but everyone else was in town.

Our first encounter was with Mario Carrascalao, an immensely tall and distinguished – and dazzlingly well dressed - parliamentarian, who during most of the 80’s and into the early 90’s had served as East Timor’s Governor.

Appointed by the Indonesians, he had an immensely difficult job negotiating between the generals in Jakarta and the Timorese population. He told us how perilous that tightrope had been but spoke proudly of how he persuaded the Indonesians to open up to the world. At least a little bit. Large numbers of Timorese had been sent to Indonesia for further education and the wider world had been invited in for trade and investment. This process would be abruptly halted.

Mr Carrascalao had never been an enthusiast for a rapid path to self government after 1975. More haste, less speed. And he still believes there might have been a more tranquil, negotiated, outcome had his advice been followed. Now he’s in an uneasy coalition with Gusmão and briefly considered the role of Deputy Prime Minister. He seemed doubtful that East Timor was in any better shape for true independence in 2007 than it was in 1975.

Next I spoke to a revolutionary hero known to this day by his code name ‘L7’. The contrast with Carrascalao couldn’t have been more dramatic. He was a tiny little man lost in an immensely oversized suit, completely devoid of style. But this fierce man with his flamboyant moustache and his mutilated hand (a bullet had amputated most of his fingers) saw himself as having the moral authority to lecture anyone in East Timor, and most particularly in its parliament, on the future direction of the nation.

This isn’t a fashion parade, but I must continue to describe the apparel of my interviewees. Fernanda Borges absolutely looked the part of a brand new MP, the leader of her own recently created party, and an earnest free-marketeer. Pretty soon I felt I was talking to the young Margaret Thatcher and I have little doubt, a little down the track, Miss Borges may well emerge as East Timor’s first woman Prime Minister. She’s under whelmed by the sort of mythologies that sweep around L7, Gusmão or Jose Ramos Horta. She seemed to think that past glories were even an impediment to political progress. Educated at ‘the Gong’ (University Of Wollongong) in the appropriate areas of economics and management, she would fit into any political context, from London to New York via Canberra.

We rounded the day off with a long and amiable chat with the PM and Mrs. PM - Xanana and his Australian wife Kirsty. Xanana’s voice is tiny, barely audible, and Kirsty assists with constant fine tuning of his English. You get the feeling that the quiet voice was a survival technique employed in those years in an Indonesian prison. But every now and then there’s a sudden outburst of anger which, in contrast to the gentle expression, packs an enormous punch. The chat with Xanana and Kirsty will fill an entire program whilst Borges, Carrascalao and L7 will be edited for another.

We finished the day with a quick detour to Jesus Christ. I’m speaking of the enormous statue, up there with the ‘Big Banana’ and the ‘Ginormous Pineapple’. The back story on the statue – a gift to the Timorese from Islamic Indonesia - is extraordinary. We’ll tell you about that shortly.

Phillip Adams

P.S. The Dili Hotel would struggle to rate ‘one star’. I want everyone to know that Graham (our online producer) and I are staying in veritable monk’s cells. Our executive producer Christopher Bullock has booked the ‘Richard Carleton Suite’ for himself. I kid you not. There is a suite at the Dili Hotel, and believe me it’s as palatial as Richard’s love of luxury would suggest. Would you please write to the ABC and complain about Mr. Bullock’s domination of the only tolerable accommodation in Dili.

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