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How a Czech spy tried to recruit me as an agent


by J. Ramos-Horta

I began my political life in the early 1970's as a social-democrat and stayed social-democrat throughout; my only ideological inspiration was the Swedish moderate Social Democracy model. I was never enamored with Marxism; and all my comrades in our resistance movement were aware how strongly opposed I was to the Marxist-Leninist doctrine.

Back in the early 70's among our small circle of Marxists and Maoists I was labelled "pro-US". Being labelled pro-US was in fact a badge of honor as I admired the American political system of strong checks and balance, a powerful free Media, its world leadership in sciences, etc. Others said said I was an agent for "Australian imperialism" while Australian intelligence was busy spying on me. 

So I was both incredulous and amused how my name appeared in the files of the defunct communist Czechoslovakia as an "agent".

The story began sometime in the late 70's when I met a Czech diplomat at the UN in New York. I thought it was a chance encounter in the UN Delegates Lounge where diplomats freely mingled and chatted and where often serious negotiations and agreements were reached. 

In retrospect I wonder whether our first meeting was indeed a chance encounter or the Czech spy agency had identified me as a potential agent. The first meeting was followed by invitations for lunches in local Chinese restaurants. 

From 1976 on, living in Manhattan with very little money, I stayed in rundown, cockroach infested apartments; and would not refuse a free meal. And in any case my task was to meet anyone who showed interest in my people's struggle and plight - and try to win over their vote in the annual UN General Assembly resolutions on East Timor.

After the first two or three meetings, he started asking my views on the US and how they would vote on the East Timor resolution. Successive US Administrations from 1975 till 1999 sided with the Suharto regime of Indonesia, not only diplomatically but also providing weapons and economic aid; he was also very interested in general US politics and I was just too happy to show off my knowledge on the subject.  He seemed impressed. I was in fact deeply interested in US affairs since my high school days and read profusely over the years. 

I had no access to anyone at all in the Administration. Only some staff at the US Congress and Congressmen would welcome me into their offices to hear about East Timor and only on East Timor.

On occasion he would ask me about my sources to justify my information; and I would give him a list of sources, human rights organizations or liberal or left-wing think tanks, the only ones interested about Timor-Leste at that time. 

I told Mr. Fila he could get such reports and in-depth analysis about the US from many open sources, media, think-tanks, academia, NGOs. I picked up some of these papers at the many academic seminars I attended where endless excellent papers on US or US-Soviet relations were presented. The difficulty was that the views and analysis were diverse, with so many conflicting view points, that understandably a communist agent would find it all puzzling.

I lost interest when I realize he was really trying to use me, recruit me as an informant or analyst for his government; why would I help them when his government did not show the slightest interest on East Timor.

I never ever set foot in the then Soviet Union or in any of the Soviet bloc country. My Timorese colleagues and I tried hard over the years to visit the communist capitals, Moscow and the Eastern bloc countries, to lobby for supprt but they never acceded to receive us even just to listen to our side of the story.

One day Mr. Fila invited me to spend a week-end in a compound somewhere in Long Island that I believe was owned by the Soviets. I declined. Later Mr. Fila invited me to meet him in Vienna. Again I declined as I knew by then I would be entering dangerous terrain. And I was getting annoyed! And I did tell Mr. Fila's successor that I was not prepared to cooperate with them in any manner that was not in my country's interests or against any other country. I never heard again from Mr. Fila but over the years I wondered sometimes what happened to him. I hope he is well wherever he may be. 

That's the story. Never would I imagine that Mr. Fila or his handlers back in Prague would think I could ever work for them. How they believed that I would have access to classified US intelligence material when I could not even talk to a junior US diplomat is beyond me. 

I never hid from Mr. Fila where my loyalties were - with my country. Had they supported us all the way through, then yes, even though I was never a communist I would be an ally like so many National Liberations Movements were, in Asia, Africa and Latin America, that had generous support from the Soviet bloc country. 

We were the poorest and most isolated National Liberation in the world, ignored by the communist bloc and suppressed with US bombs, one of the few forgotten movements that did not get a bullet or even a diplomatic hand-shake from the Soviet bloc countries. They were not our friends. I was not their friend. East Timor was a small, dispensable pawn for all the major powers, communist and non-communists. But in the end Justice triumphed over evil.

KLIBUR ESTUDANTE UNIVERSITÁRIU SUBDISTRITU ATABAE

 
KLIBUR ESTUDANTE UNIVERSITÁRIU SUBDISTRITU ATABAE
Aimutin, Dili, Timor-Leste, e.mail. keusa.atabae@gmail.com

Introdusaun
Hafoin Klibur Familia Boot Atabae selebra festa natál hamutuk iha tinan 2012 liuba, dada kedas atensaun no hanoin atu forma organizasaun estudantíl hodi hamoris hikas Persatuan Pemuda & Pelajar Atabae (Klibur Foinsa’e & Estudante Atabae) ne’ebé harii iha tempu rezisténsia nian, ne’ebé ho objetivu maka kontribui no tulun ba luta libertasaun nasionál.

          Espíritu patriotizmu no nasionlizmu ne’ebé hatudu ona husi estudante Atabae-oan sira iha tempu rezisténsia, tenke iha kontinuidade hodi prienxe independénsia, liuhosi partisipa no kontribui hanoin ne’ebé matenek ba dezenvolvimentu nasionál. Maibé, atu kontribuisaun estudante sira nian ba dezenvolvimentu nasionál hetan asaun ne’ebé realístika no ativa, presiza estudante sira hamahon an iha organizasaun ida,  atu estudante sira bele organiza malu didi’ak no dezenvolve dauda’uk sira-nia abilidade no koñesimentu (skills & knowledge) iha aspeitu oioin ne’ebé nesesáriu ba hadi’ak povu no nasaun doben Timor Lorosa’e.

          Espíritu ida ne’e halibur hikas estudante subdistritu Atabae atu hakat ain hamutuk ba dalan ida liuhosi organiza malu iha oganizasaun estudantíl ida – Klibur Estudante Universitáriu Subdistritu Atabae (KEUSA)-ne’ebé harii ona iha loron 23 Fevereiru 2013, no loron ne’e mós marka tan istoria ba Atabae-oan sira atu hahu hanoin ba kontribuisaun hadi’ak povu no nasaun.

          KEUSA hahu hala’o dauda’uk nia programa sira-ne’ebé traxa ona, liu-liu dezenvolve abilidade no koñesimentu hodi haklean matenek ne’ebé estudante sira simu iha mundu akadémiku, liuhosi aktividade sira hanesan; treinamentu ka  kursu ho objetivu atu forma karakter no mentalidade estudante sira tuir nesesidade mundu globalizadu ida-ne’e, no promove mós partisipasaun estudante sira iha eventu importante sira; konferénsia nasionál, semináriu nasionál, no eventu internasionál sira seluk ne’ebé realiza iha rai doben Timor Lorosa’e, liuhosi institusaun Governu nian no organizasaun la’ós Governu nian sira. Ida-ne’e halo ho objetivu atu estudante sira bele hetan esperiénsia natoon no koñesimentu iha área oioin hodi hakonu nesesidade nu’udar estudante.

          Kuriozidade (hakarak hatene)maka válor akadémika ne’ebé tenke kuda hela ba estudante sira iha mundu modernu ida-ne’e, ho mudansa teknolojia ne’ebé fó impaktu maka’as ba vida sosiál iha mundu tomak sai kompetisaun maka’as iha vida edukasaun liu-liu mundu akadémiku ohin loron. Razaun ida-ne’e motiva estudante sira atu organiza malu hodi hahu muda forma no karakter nu’udar individu intelektuál ne’ebé bele kontribui hanoin no asaun ne’ebé matenek ba povu no nasaun.  

          Promosaun kuriozidade estudante sira nian presiza hetan atensaun maka’as liuhosi programa oioin ne’ebé hala’o hosi KEUSA. Maibé tenke hetan atensaun sériu hosi entidade tomak iha nasaun ne’e. Tanba kuriozidade estudante timoroan ba vida sosiál oioin sai preokupasaun nasionál ida, atu nune’e bele hamosu progresu intelektualidade no kapasidade analizasaun sosiál husi estudante sira iha Timor Lorosa’e.

          Ho razaun ida-ne’e, KEUSA hamosu Revista ABAT,  nu’udar hahu lori inspirasaun nakloke estudante sira nian ba formasaun sosiedade ida iha ambiente livre, atu ema hotu bele hetan hanoin di’ak hodi partisipa iha dezenvolvimentu nasionál. ABAT mosu atu hahu sensibilza kriatividade no abalidade estudante sira nian  iha mundu hakerek. Tanba liuhosi hakerek, estudante sira bele espresa sira-nia hanoin ne’ebé matenek no bele kontribui ba dezenvolvimentu.

          ABAT bele abrevia ba “Atabae-oan BukA haTene” no liafuan ABAT rasik maihosi dialetu Kemak ne’ebé signifika ai-laran tuan, ne’ebé hela iha foho-huun, ne’ebé fornese reskursu bee no nakonu ho flora no fauna. ABAT bele reprezenta rekursu naturál ne’ebé bele fornese fonte moris no hakmatek ema no balada tomak iha mundu. Maibé iha mundu komunikasaun sosiál, Revista Abat bele sai fonte informasaun siéntifika ba públiku no mós sai instrumentu atu eduka, diverte, hatudu imajen no poténsia rai Atabae nian liuhosi eskritura sira ne’ebé fó sai. 

Objetivu
Hanoin kona-ba hamosu revista ABAT nakonu ho objetivu;
a.       Jerál
1.      Atu estudante sira bele espresa sira-nia hanoin hodi kontribui ba dezenvolvimentu nasionál
2.      Hanesan meus ida atu estudante sira uza hodi dezkobre poténsia sira ne’ebé subdistritu ne’e iha hodi dada atensaun nasionál ka internasionál ba hadi’ak povu no nasaun RDTL.
b.      Espesífiku
1.      Hasa’e kriatividade estudante sira nian iha vida hakerek
2.      Hakbiit matenek no mentalidade atu espresa hanoin
3.      Hasa’e koñesimentu no abilidade akademiku balun ne’ebé eskola ka institusaun akademika la fornese.
Vizaun
Estudante Universitáriu husi Subdistritu Atabae tenke sai individu kriativu no kritiku ne’ebé nakonu ho abilidade no koñesimentu iha aspeitu oioin hodi kontribui ba dezenvolvimentu nasionál.

Misaun
Promove estudante sira-nia kriatividade, abilidade no koñesimentu hodi partisipa no kontribui ba dezenvolvimentu nasionál.

Konkluzaun
KEUSA iha mehi ba ABAT katak, Revista ne’e tenke sai nu’udar fonte informasaun siéntifika ba públiku. Tanba ne’e, KEUSA hala’o no buka apoiu hodi realiza treinamentu oioin husi institusaun no treinadór kualifikadu sira ne’ebé voluntariamente fornese no hafahe sira-nia esperiénsia iha mundu hakerek, komunikasaun, lideránsa, diskursu públiku no programa sira ne’ebé KEUSA planea hanesan; kria treinamentu debate públiku kada fulan ba membru, hodi akompaña mudansa sosiál, polítika no ekonomika iha nasaun doben Timor Lorosa’e.   

          KEUSA mós hanoin katak treinamentu kona-ba kriatividade hakerek mós importante atu promove no hamoris espíritu hakerek husi membru sira. Atu-nune’e, sira bele kontribui hakerek artigu no eskritura siéntifika sira hodi publika iha revista ABAT.  Tanba ABAT tenke sai revista ne’ebé fornese informasaun siéntifika ba públiku no hanesan ne’e maka kontribui dauda’uk ba dezenvolvimentu setór sosiál iha nasaun ne’e.  Nune’e katak KEUSA hamosu “ABAT” nakonu ho mehi kmook kona-ba kontribui hanoin ne’ebé matenek no informasaun ne’ebé siéntifiku hodi sai referénsia ba estudante sira iha rai doben Timor Lorosa’e.


Dili, 19 Maiu 2014
Prepara husi

Rogério Pires
Xefe Seksaun Komunikasaun Sosiál KEUSA 
Bere_loe@yahoo.com 
Roger_t2king@gmail.com
Telf. +670 7756 5645
+670 7801 1174

OAN MANE NIA MEHI


Oan-mane ida, hakarak-tebes loron-ruma ba kail-ikan iha tasi hamutuk ho nia-aman. Nia husu bebeik atu nia-aman bele hetan lisensa, iha tempu loron ida ba sira mesak deit. Hafoin liu-tiha fulan balun, aman ne'e obriga-an husu lisensa loron ida tomak, maske serbisu barak-tebes butuk hela iha meza leten iha knaar fatin. Nia hakarak fo ksolok ba nia oan-mane maske ho laran todan tebes. 

Ho-laran ksolok tebes, sira sai husi uma dadersan-deit, la'o tutuir dalan, to'o ba tasi, buka fatin diak, sira tuur iha fatuk-leten hodi komesa kail ikan. Sira kail ho pasiensia tebes, koalia ba malu nu'udar oan ho aman, maibe besik ona loron atu monu ba tasi, sira seidauk hetan netik ikan, nein ida. Sira fila ba uma ho-laran hirus, la-kontente, loron-tomak saugati deit. 

Liu-tiha tinan barak, esperensia ida ne'e hakerek hela iha ida-idak nia diariu. Bainhira lee fila fali, Aman hakerek: "Karallu pa, loron aat ida. Hau husu lisensa loron tomak ida ba kail ikan maibe la-hetan rezultadu, tristi looos!" Iha sorin seluk, diariu oan-mane nian hakerek: "Obrigadu boot Na'i, loron ida ne'e furak tebes, espesial los. Hau bele ba kail ikan hamutuk ho hau-aman, maske ami la-hetan ikan ida, maibe hau iha loron tomak koalia halimar ho nia, konta istoria, hamnasa ba malu, ksolok tebes!". 

Mensajen Morál: Maske okupadu tebes ho serbisu iha knaar fatin ka iha ne'ebe deit, la-bele haluha familia, sira mak ita nia iis, moris nia-hun no abut.

OAN PRIMEIRU NIA SAKRIFISIU


Joven edukadu, matenek boot ida halo hela viajen ho aviaun ba Bali. Iha nia sorin, tuur feto ida, ferik-los ona. Hafoin kuinese, sira koalia halimar ba malu. 
Joven ne’e husu: “ avo ba Bali atu halo saida?” 
“Hau ba tranzitu deit iha Bali atu liu ba Singapura visita hau nia oan-mane daruak”, ferik hatan. 
“Waoo.. avo nia-oan daruak vale duni”. Hafoin joven edukadu ne’e hanoin, no hakarak-los atu hatene liu tan, nia kontinua ho pergunta: “ohin avo dehan oan daruak iha Singapura, entaun nia maun-alin sira iha ne’ebé hotu?” Avo ne’e hahú konta: “Hau nia-oan datoluk Doutor ida, ida dahaat ne’e Enjeñeiru, oan ba dalimak Arkitetu, daneen ne’e Jestór iha banku no dahitu nu’udar Emprezáriu iha Maliana”.

Joven matenek boot, edukadu ne’e, nonok deit hodi admira tebes, ferik ne’e susesu tebes eduka nia-oan sira, husi oan daruak to’o dahitu, sai ema suseu boot tebes. Hafoin, joven ne’e kontinua husu: “Oinsa ho avo nia-oan dahuluk?” Ferik ne’e dada-iis naruk hodi hatan: “ Hau nia-oan primeiru hanesan Agrikultór iha Atabae”. 

Joven edukadu ne’e mos senti laran-susar, “Diskulpa avo, karik ita-boot laran-tristi ho ita nia-oan dahuluk. Maibe la-buat ida, tanba nia alin-sira hetan edukasaun aas no sai ona ema susesu, nia nafatin hanesan ema to’os nain”.

Ho oin-midar, ferik ne’e hatan: “ Lae, laos hanesan ne’e oan diak, hau orgullu tebes ho hau nia-oan primeiru, tanba nia mak selu hotu nia-alin sira nia eskola to’o remata”.

Buat ida importante liu ba ita nia moris mak: La’os se mak O maibe saida mak O halo tiha ona.

DOMIN NE'E SAKRIFISIU BOOT IDA


Deo ho Dete tuir malu kleur ona, sira kuinese malu didi’ak los, hatene domin boot iha ida-idak nia fuan klean-ba, maibe sira nain rua mai husi familia ne’ebé diferente tebes. Dete mai husi familia riku, sasán iha, riku-soin barak, iha sorin seluk, Deo mai husi foho, família ki’ak, no atrazadu liu, han deit husi toos hodi tutan sira nia moris. 

Iha sira nain rua nia-relasaun-domin, Deo hadomi-tebes Dete. Deo hatudu nia-domin liu husi hikar surat-tahan halo manu-pombu rihun ida (manu-pombu 1000) ona haruka ba nia-doben. Dete simu ho-laran-ksolok no tara hotu pombu sira ne’e iha nia kuartu-laran, dezeñu halo kapas-los. Deo hakerek lia-fuan poétiku domin nian ho kriativu no furak tebes iha manu-pombu surat-tahan ne’e ida-idak, nune’e mos nia hakerek esperansa-domin nian ba futuru moris-hamutuk ho Dete, nia doben-murak-rai. Ezemplu, Deo hakerek: “Hau reza kalan-loron atu ita-bele hadomi malu nafatin”, “Hau harohan atu Maromak proteje O husi tentasaun hotu-hotu”, “Hau husu ba Na’i, atu ita bele hetan moris-ksolok hamutuk iha futuru”, no seluk-seluk tan. Lian-murak hirak ne’e hotu hatudu liu husi símbolu manu-pombu surat-tahan ne’ebé haruka ba Dete. 

To’o loron ida, Deo hikar surat tahan manu-pombu ne’e ba dala-rihun ida-resin ida (1001), ida ne’e nia halo ho surat tahan transparente, hatudu diferente boot tebes ho rihun ida seluk liu-ba. Leo intrega ida ne’e direta ba Dete ho lia-menon nune’e: “Dete, ida ne’e mak hau nian manu-pombu ba dala rihun ida-resin ida, liu husi símbolu ida ne’e hau husu atu iha onestidade entre ita, iha relasaun-domin ida ne’e. Hau prontu ona atu ba prenda O no ita sei ba simu skramentu matrimoniu. Hau harohan ita hadomi malu nafatin to’o ferik-katuas, no mate mak sei fahe ita!”

Rona tiha lia-fuan hirak ne’e, Dete mata-been sulin, nia tanis, ho lian nakdedar hatan ba nia-doben: “Deo, hau laran-ksolok tebes rona lia-fuan hirak ne’e, maibe hau disidi tiha-ona atu hakotu ita nia-domin, hau la-bele kaben ho O, hatene de’it ona ba doben, o mai husi família ki’ak, iha sorin seluk, hau persiza osan-barak, sasán folin-karun, no riku-soin hanesan hau nia inan-aman hatete, hau husu diskulpa!” Deo nia-fuan besik nakfera, nakdedar-los, nia hirus-ona Dete, hirus aat-los. Nia hatete-aat nune’e; feto matan-osan, kidun gazolina, la-iha sentimentu, laran-aat, no seluk-seluk-tan. Deo hamriik hakat-ain ba dook, husik-hela Dete tanis mesa-mesak iha fatin ne’eba. 

Deo lakohi ona sai ema ki’ak, nia haka’as-an atu hadi’ak nia moris, halo mudansa ba nia vida tomak. Nia jura ba nia-an atu hetan moris susesu. Dete nia-lia-fuan hafalun nia atu hakat-ba susesu. Iha fulan ida nia laran deit, Deo hetan ona rezultadu. Kompaña foti nia ba Xefe Unidade ida, no liu-tiha tinan ida foti-tan nia ba Jestór ho responsabilidade boot, la-kleur de’it nia kaer ona 50% riku-soin kompaña nian ((‘saham’ 50%). Deo sai ema-boot, kuinesidu, ema hotu hatene, nakfilak tiha sai fitun nabilan, no modelu susesu nian ba ema-barak. 

Loro-kraik kmanek ida, Deo halai haleu sidade ho nia kareta-foun, hateke ba sidade nia-kmanek no sinti-hakmatek iha-fuan, udan mos tun dadaun mai, halo laran-malirin tebes. Deo hateke ba dalan ninin, haree hetan ferik ho katuas ida la’o hela iha udan laran, krekas-maran, kulit kesi ruin, karik la-iha atensaun husi sira-nia-oan. Deo halai neneik ba luron ninin, besik ba ferik-katuas ne’e, fihir didiak ba sira, nia hatene, kuinese sira nain rua, Dete nia inan-aman. Deo komesa hanoin iha nia-ulun atu goza sira, maibe nia-laran la-fo dalan, fuan nakdedar, nia labele goza sira, nune’e nia halai neneik tuir deit sira atu ba ne’ebé. 

Deo hakfodak tebes bainhira haree sira nain rua tama ba semitériu ida nakonu ho manu-pombu ne’ebé halo husi surat-tahan. Nia hakfodak-liu-tan bainhira haree hetan Dete nia foto iha rate leten. Deo tun-kedas husi nia kareta no halai tama ba rate-laran, hakbesik-an ba Dete nia-inan-aman. 

Dete nia-aman dehan: “Deo, agora ami sai ki’ak tiha ona, ami nia riku-soin hasai hotu ba Dete nia tratamentu, nia sofre kankru-oan-fatin ne’ebé todan. Dete rai-hela karta ida ne’e, no husu ami atu hato’o ba, se ami hasoru ita”. Deo simu karta namkurut ne’e husi Dete nia-aman. 

Deo la-tahan atu lee, Dete hakerek: “Deo, hau husu diskulpa, tanba tenke bosok ona o, doben. Hau hetan moras kankru-oan-fatin ne’ebé la-bele ona kura. Hau la-bele dehan loloos ida ne’e ba doben, tanba karik hau hatete ba o, halo doben terus-boot, harahun o-fuan, hamate o-moris. Deo, hau kuinese didi’ak o, hatene o to’o o-fuan klean ba, nune’e hau halo ida ne’e atu o-nia moris ba oin nafatin. Hau hadomi-los o, Deo, haku'ak boot. Dete”. 

Deo mata-been sulin habokon karta ne’e, nia tanis, nia hakarak hakilar maka’as, tanba Deo hanoin aat tiha ona ba Dete, hatete nia ho-lia-fua foer sira. Agora, Deo bele sinti sentimentu Dete nian bainhira nia hatete lia-foer sira ne’e, dehan nia-matan-osan, kidun gazolina, laran aat, la-iha sentimentu. Deo mos bele sinti, oinsa mak Dete terus tahan-moras mesa-mesak to’o nia mate. Deo bele sinti, oinsa Dete persiza tebes nia prezensa iha situasaun susar-rabat-rai nia-laran, maibe Deo momentu ne’eba hili liu hanoin katak Dete laos doben ida ne’ebé iha sentimentu klean. Dete halo sakrifisiu boot ba Deo atu nia la-bele monu iha susar no terus nia laran, la-bele hamate nia espiritu ba moris susesu. 

Domin ne’e laos kona-ba hakuak-malu ka rei-malu, maibe domin ne’e sakrifisiu ida ba ema ne’ebé importante-liu iha ita nia moris.

APRENDE HUSI MANU-FALUR (POMBU)


Manu falur-aman ida nunka fahe nia domin ba inan nain-rua. Ita bele haree didi’ak, observa tutuir, karik hetan falur-aman ida mak troka hela de’it nia-kaben? Nia resposta, la-iha! Falur-aman ho parseiru ida de’it to’o mate. 

Manu-falur hatene fila-fali uma, ba nia-knuuk. Maske nia bele semo dook ba to’o iha ne’ebé de’it, rai sei la-fila nia, nia hatene dalan fila ba-uma knuuk. Karik imi hatene Manu-falur ida la-fila ba nia knuuk. Nia resposta, Lae.

Manu-falur nia moris romántiku liu-hotu. Bele observa didi’ak, bainhira pombu-aman hananu ho nia-fuan admira nia kaben, falur-inan la-loko-an, hakru’uk de’it, moe uitoan hodi simu admirasaun. Karik ita haree sira tebe-malu ka tata-malu? Nia resposta, Lae.

Manu-falur hatene oinsa mak serbisu hamutuk. Bele haree bainhira sira tulun malu, serbisu hamutuk halo knuuk. Falur-aman no inan hikis kosar-been lalin ai-sanak hodi halo knuuk ba nia oan-sira. Kuandu falur-inan luut, falur-aman halo siguransa besik knuuk, bainhira inan luut kolen ona, aman mak luut fali. Karik imi haree sira dudu-malu ka diskuti malu kona-ba serbisu. Nia resposta, Lae.

Manu-falur mak ida ne’ebé la-soi bílis (empedu), nia la-iha moruk, nune’e nia la-rai odiu.

Se manu-falur bele halo hotu atividade sira temi iha leten, nusa mak ita ema labele? Moris ne’e furak bainhira ita kumpriende malu, tulun malu, fahe ba malu no respeitu malu.

Guinea-Bissau/Elections: Massive presence of the international community is a factor of dissuasion

Press Release 


Guinea-Bissau/Elections: 

Massive presence of the international community is a factor of dissuasion – SRSG Ramos-Horta 


 Bissau-UNIOGBIS, 12 abr-2014 – The Special Representative of the UN Secretary-General (SRSG) toGuinea-Bissau today stated that the massive presence of high level international missions of observers to the general elections on Sunday April 13, is a positive factor that shows the interest of the international community in Guinea-Bissau as well as a factor of dissuasion from past practices towards a new country ready to move towards development.


 “ The international community’s interest in the elections and the return of Guinea-Bissau to constitutional order, showed through the presence of more than 400 observers, is a factor of deep interest and dissuasion and therefore of stability ”,said UNIOGBIS leader.

The Nobel Peace Prize laureate spoke at the end of a high level meeting with the President of ECOWASCommission, Kadiré Desirée Ouedraogo, and with the chief of the observer’s mission of this pan-african organization, former Liberia Head of State Amos Sawyer, among other personalities.

The meeting, requested by the President of ECOWAS Commission, held at a hotel in Bissau, aimed at exchange of views on the final stage of the process leading to the legislative andpresidential elections, as well as to express gratitude to José Ramos-Horta and UNIOGBIS for all efforts displayed in support of returning Guinea-Bissau to constitutional order, and also to Timor-Leste for the generous solidarity allowing the elections to be held.

 ECOWAS Commission President congratulated UNIOGBIS and SRSG in particular for the remarkable progress and expressed his gratitude for Timor-Leste support to Guinea-Bissau,ECOWAS and in effect   Africain general”, he said.

The Nobel Peace Prize laureate noted that the performance of ECOWAS and ECOMIB is commendable. He noted that it is impressive that the situation on the ground is peaceful and does not raise concerns. The international community has in Guinea-Bissau four ex-Heads of State and ministers, and above 400 observers, revealing an attention which is both “dissuasive and a sign of stability”, said SRSG. 

UN Secretary-General, Ban Ki-moon, chose the Nobel Peace Prize laureate José Ramos-Horta to lead UNIOGBIS when Guinea-Bissau was at the bottom of the interests of the international community. Today, the country is back in the map.

One year has passed since the SRSG ’s arrival and it is visible that Ban Ki-moon’s intentionsare a success thanks to the efforts of  José Ramos-Horta who, tirelessly, lobbied and made the necessary political pressures to mobilize the international community in recognizing the laudable role ECOWAS took in the beginning to avoid a descent to anarchy in Guinea-Bissau. The collaboration of Ramos-Horta and partners has resulted in many electoral observers.

 As big is the intervention,bigger is prevention”, concluded Ramos-Horta.  

Jose Meirelles

Chief Public Information 
UNIOGBIS spokesperson
United Nations Building
Bairro Penha - Bissau
Guinea Bissau
Office: +390831059000 Ext: 193 6124
Cel: +245 6136045
Website: www. uniogbis.unmissions.org

HAVING IT BOTH WAYS: AUSTRALIA'S CONFLICTED POSITION IN THE TIMOR SEA


By Sarita Ryan


According to Alexander Downer, former Australian Foreign Minister and subsequent board advisor to Woodside Petroleum, a country's reputation is on the line. Downer claims that Timor-Leste's appeal to terminate a key treaty with Australia in the Permanent Court of Arbitration reveals the tiny nation to be an unruly negotiator:

'This is exactly why developed countries are reluctant to invest in developing countries. The sovereign risk is too high. An agreement, a law, a treaty is only okay when it suits the government -- East Timor will win a reputation for being unreliable with no leverage to gain extra revenue from its reckless policy. As a person who did so much to get East Timorese their independence, that makes me sad.'

Recent proceedings have suggested that it might be Australia, rather than Timor-Leste, that is currently most at risk of gaining a bad reputation. When Sir Eli Lauterpacht, Timor-Leste's leading counsel at the International Court of Justice, dubbed ASIO's confiscation of evidence 'improper and inexplicable', Australia's legal team responded to the assertions as 'wounding'. Unfortunately for Australia, hurt feelings didn't translate into a legal high ground in the ICJ, and it's possible there are more sad faces to come; the ANU's Donald Anton notes that if Timor-Leste's allegations prove true, and Australia is found to have gained an unfair advantage in treaty negotiations through spying on Timor-Leste, Australia may earn the dubious distinction of being the first known state to have a treaty declared invalid on account of fraud (under Article 49 of the Vienna Convention on the Law of Treaties). Australia may well be losing the image game in its dealings withTimor-Leste.

For decades, Australia has sought to carefully manage the conflicting positions of its desire for resource control in the Timor Sea and its image as a nation aligned with the moral principles of sovereignty and self- determination. It is now looking increasingly like Australia may not be able to have it both ways. Contrary to Downer's claim, the arbitration case concerns more than the gain of 'extra revenue' in Timor-Leste. Certainly, this is a case about oil and espionage, fair resource distribution and good faith in agreements between nations. However, the drama surrounding the spying scandal is something of the tip of an older issue: Timor-Leste's ongoing struggle to become an independent, sovereign state, complete with maritime boundaries, and Australia's fraught position in this process.

La'o Hamutuk, a prominent Timorese civil society organisation, has held several briefings for local and Australian journalists over the past few months to clarify a significant degree of confusion surrounding the case, including an often repeated claim that Timor-Leste's arbitration case is seeking to redraw Australian/Timorese maritime borders. The organisation stressed that permanent maritime boundaries have never been set between Australia and Timor-Leste, rather, previous agreements have related to the division of resources in the Timor Sea. In taking the present case to the Permanent Court of Arbitration, Timor-Leste is seeking not only a re-division of oil and gas reserves in the Timor Sea, but the establishment of maritime boundaries in accordance with international law, a persistent issue since the beginning of Australian/Timorese resource negotiations. As Juvinal Dias, a researcher at La'o Hamutuk, stressed, '(the arbitration case) is not just about oil. It's about sovereignty-- This struggle is like the struggle for independence.'

The story of Australian and Timorese oil and gas negotiations has been well documented,but is necessary to revisit in order to chart Australia's long-term strategy in the Timor Sea. Discovered by Woodside Petroleum in the early 1970s, the untapped resources in the Greater Sunrise field, worth an estimated $40 billion, proved highly influential on Australia's position regarding an independent Timor-Leste. In 1974, reflecting global trends in maritime agreements, Portuguese Timor advocated for resource sharing along a median line between the two countries, under which Australia would have received little or nil of the resources. On the contrary, precedent suggested that Indonesia would be far more amenable to Australia claiming a significant
proportion; Indonesia and Australia had previously negotiated maritime boundaries based on the outdated 'continental shelf' principle, resulting in a deal that was referred to in Indonesia as 'Australia taking us to the cleaners'. The following diplomatic cable, from the year prior to the collapse of Portuguese colonial rule and Indonesia's subsequent invasion of Timor- Leste, reveals the extent to which resources were at the forefront of Australian concerns, coupled with a need to maintain an image of impartiality:

'The Indonesians would probably be prepared to accept the same compromise as they did in the negotiations already completed on the seabed boundary between our two countries. Such a compromise would be more acceptable to us than the present Portuguese position. For precisely this reason however, we should be careful not to be seen as pushing for self-government or independence for Portuguese Timor or for it to become part of Indonesia, as this would probably be interpreted as evidence of our self-interest in the seabed boundary disputerather than a genuine concern for the future of Portuguese Timor.'

In 1975, Australia chose to adopt a 'realist' rather than 'idealist' position on Timorese self-determination, which was argued to provide not just greater regional stability, but greater possibilities for resource access. This famous letter from Richard Woolcott, Australian Ambassador to Indonesia in 1975, provides the background of Australia's tacit approval of the Indonesianannexation of Timor-Leste:

It would seem to me that (the Australian) Department (of Minerals and Energy) might well have an interest in closing the present gap in the agreed sea border and that this could be much more readily negotiated with Indonesia-than with Portugal or independent Portuguese Timor--I know I am recommending a pragmatic rather than a principled stand (regarding Indonesian annexation) but this is what national interest and foreign policy is all about.'

This 'pragmatic' position proved highly profitable for Australia. Following Indonesia's 1975 invasion of Timor-Leste, Australia and Indonesia signed the Timor Gap Treaty (1989). By this stage, the 1982 UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) had come into effect, establishing the median line principle as the basis for setting maritime jurisdictions between countries less than 400 nautical miles apart. However, in a highly favourable deal to Australia, the Timor Gap Treaty divided the resources between the 1972 boundary and the median line equally. The treaty proved extremely profitable, with Australia netting more than $2 billion in government taxes from the Laminaria-Corallina fields alone. These fields are now largely depleted.

In the late 1990s, the growing surge for independence in Timor-Leste threw all previous agreements between Indonesia and Australia into doubt. In anticipation, Australia withdrew its recognition of the maritime boundary dispute jurisdiction of the International Court of Justice and the International Tribunal for the Law of the Sea, just two months prior to Timor- Leste's declaration of independence. At the time, Downer asserted that it was it was Australia's 'strong view is that any maritime boundary dispute is best settled by negotiation rather than litigation.' Timor Sea agreements between the newly independent Timor-Leste and Australia were then negotiated directly between the two countries, without reference to UNCLOS. The resulting Timor Sea Treaty (signed in 2002, ratified in 2003) established that fields in the Joint Petroleum Development Area (JPDA), such as Bayu Undan, are shared via a 90% (Timor-Leste) and 10% (Australia) split, an improvement on the 50/50 split under Indonesian rule. This appears considerably more equitable than the earlier arrangement; however, it must be kept in mind that Australia would not be entitled to any of these resources under the median line principle. During the negotiations, Timor-Leste repeatedly tried to raise the issue of permanent maritime boundaries along a median line, prompting this well documented outburst from Downer: 'We don't have to exploit the resources (in Bayu Undan). They can stay there for 20, 40, 50 years. We are very tough. We will not care if you give information to the media. Let me give you a tutorial in politics-not a chance.'

Another key problem of the Timor Sea Treaty was its link to the Sunrise-International Unification Agreement (referred to in this article as the 'Sunrise Agreement'). Despite the Greater Sunrise field falling entirely in Timor-Leste's maritime territory under UNCLOS, the Sunrise Agreement stated that less than 20% of Greater Sunrise lay within the JPDA, with the remaining 80% assigned to Australia. Australia would not ratify the Timor Sea Treaty until Timor had signed the Sunrise Agreement, delaying desperately needed cash flow to Timor from Bayu Undan. At the time, Greens Senator Bob Brown accused the Howard Government of 'blackmail', and was suspended from the Senate for the day as a result. Timor-Leste is now claiming, through its case at the Permanent Court of Arbitration, that Australia was well aware of its desperate position through the bugging of government offices in Dili, and that these agreements were made in bad faith on Australia's part. Timor-Leste resisted ratifying the Sunrise Agreement for years after signing it, and in 2006 the Certain Maritime Arrangements in the Timor Sea (CMATS) Treaty was devised as a compromise, giving each country a 50% share of Greater Sunrise. The treaty also came with the condition that Timor-Leste would not raise the issue for another fifty years, thus effectively closing the possibility for Timor-Leste to set permanent maritime boundaries, at least until after Timor Sea oil and gas reserves had been exhausted.

As far back as 1974, it was acknowledged in Australian government circles that it was important to balance Australia's resource aspirations with establishing a cooperative relationship with an independent Timor-Leste: 'If Australia thus became a focus of antagonism, we would almost certainly lose much of our capability to influence or assist a newly independent government' (38 Cablegram to New York, 1974). Australia is acknowledged as a key actor in Timor-Leste's independence narrative; our assistance through the INTERFET peace keeping force during the 1999 independence referendum and subsequent violence is well remembered and appreciated, and AusAID (now DFAT) contributes roughly $116 million per year in aid expenditure, making Australia Timor's largest bilateral donor. However, it has also been well noted that Australia's profits from Timor Sea reserves, both during Indonesian occupation and post- independence, far outweigh the costs of any military and humanitarian assistance to Timor-Leste. As Dias exclaimed during our conversation: 'You can't give me a hand and take my arm!' That the alleged spying occurred under the cover of an AusAID program is uncomfortably symbolic of Australia's long- standing position towards Timor-Leste. Timorese sovereignty and Australia'ss economic self-interest in the Timor Sea have never sat easily together.

In January 2014, Downer wrote an opinion piece promoting Australia as a responsible international citizen after a series of attacks by the ABC and others, describing such criticism as a 'standard practice at the ABC. Whenever a foreigner criticises us, it's always our fault.' Downer describes CMATS as an act of charitable goodwill by the Australia government: 'In 2006 we struck a deal with the Timorese: we'd give them 50 percent of the revenue (of Greater Sunrise) because they were poor and we were rich. We didn't really need the money to the extent that they did.'

Strikingly, not once in Downer's opinion piece does he mention the awkward reality of the median line principle and UNCLOS, which might suggest that Australia may have 'given away' that which was, in fact, not its to give.

The upcoming months may prove to be dramatic for the relationship between Australia and Timor-Leste. It could well be that Australia walks away from the Permanent Court of Arbitration not just with the loss of Greater Sunrise, but with an unenviable reputation as a country that conducts international
agreements in bad faith, and exploits small, poor countries for its own economic gain. The game may well have changed. If Timor-Leste is successful in the Court, it will certainly seek to establish its own permanent maritime boundaries, in accordance with the median line principle. For Timor-Leste, this would be the conclusion of a struggle for self-determination spanning forty years. For Australia, it may well prove to be a clear sign that its economic self-interest in the Timor Sea is simply at odds with both the sovereignty of its tiny neighbor, and principles of international law. Perhaps having it both ways was never really possible.


Sarita Ryan is a teacher and researcher of labour, education and informal economies.

The Articulation of Tradition in Timor-Leste

by James J. Fox
Introduction
When The Flow of Life was published in 1980, it was intended to identify some of the distinctive features of eastern Indonesia and to shift perspectives on how the region was viewed. In that volume, Timor figured prominently. Six out of 14 comparative essays—seven, if one counts Rote within this area—were focused on Timor. Previous comparative efforts had been limited and were largely confined to the influential study by the Dutch anthropologist F. A. E. van Wouden. His work, Sociale Structuurtypen in de Groote Oost, in 1935—translated as Types of Social Structure in Eastern Indonesiain 1968—was based largely on fragmentary materials reported by travellers, missionaries and government officers. While certainly perceptive in many of its particular analyses, the work advanced a single formal model that purported to provide the original underlying basis for societies in eastern Indonesia.
The Flow of Life challenged this model by presenting a diversity of social forms in eastern Indonesia and by convincingly representing the diverse conceptual bases of societies of the region. The Flow of Life was the first study of its kind to be based on substantial fieldwork. As the book claimed, it shifted focus from the study of models to the study of metaphors—the often highly poetic articulation of metaphors of life.
This book, Life and Land in Timor-Leste, follows a trajectory set out in The Flow of Life. Like The Flow of Life, all the papers in this volume are based on considerable fieldwork. This work is, however, more specifically focused and critically formulated to consider local polities in Timor-Leste and the way in which they have survived and adapted to the Indonesian occupation, the United Nations’ presence and the present-day national development demands of an independent Timor-Leste.
Despite the great attention given to Timor-Leste over the past decade, few studies have sought to examine traditional social life as framed within particular traditional polities and in different rural areas. This book should therefore have a double impact—both theoretical and practical. It opens a new window on what is occurring in Timor-Leste. The initial question to ask of this volume is what comparative insights it provides and where do these insights lead.
Traditional Timorese Discourse
On Timor, traditions go deep. They are bound to the land—to specific places and to particular origins. Thus, the common comparative framework for all of the essays in this volume is their examination of Timorese traditional relations to the land and the significance of these relations. These relations—somewhat bewildering at times—are in fact the substance of life.

Struggling Geographies: Rethinking livelihood and locality in Timor-Leste

by Sandra Pannell
A Geography which Struggles I: Introduction
The island of Timor could be regarded—to borrow Edward Said’s expression—as a ‘geography which struggles’ (1993:6). Our understanding of this geography is dominated by a discourse of destruction and degradation. Writings about the island and its people commonly talk about the ‘Timor tragedy’ or the ‘Timor problem’. As James Dunn’s account reveals, the tragedy of Timor (see Dunn 1983:xi) is a story of gross injustice and local suffering, linked to the dismal failure of the international community to respond to Indonesia’s invasion of East Timor in 1974. Since independence in 2002, it seems that ‘poverty and unemployment’ are contributing to a ‘new tragedy’ in one of the world’s latest nation-states (BBC n.d.).
Timor’s ‘problem’, on the other hand, is said to be an island-wide ecological crisis, caused by swidden agricultural systems and population pressure.1 While the notion that local shifting cultivation systems in the ‘Outer Islands’ were inherently fragile and maladaptive to increasing population was first identified by F. J. Ormeling in 1956, it was Clifford Geertz’s study of ecological change in Indonesia that popularised the idea (Geertz 1963). While not intended as such, Geertz’s conclusions about swidden agriculture appeared to reinforce existing and overly negative European perceptions of these systems as primarily ‘attended by serious deforestation and soil erosion’ (Geertz 1963:15–16).
The characterisation of local subsistence systems as ‘voracious slash-and-burn agricultural regime[s]’, with ‘low agrarian production’ (McWilliam 2002:1), responsible for Timor’s environmental ‘problem’, has prompted a significant national and international development effort aimed at changing local land-use practices and improving the country’s economic circumstances. Yet, as delegates attending Timor-Leste’s first conference on ‘Sustainable Development and the Environment’, held in Dili in 2001, identified, ‘400 years of colonization by Portugal, and 25 years of occupation by Indonesia’ (Anderson and Deutsch 2001:11; see also McWilliam 2003:308) have also contributed to the process of ecological degradation and resulted in substantial changes to local subsistence practices. For example, Fox (2000:24) reports that during the latter part of the Portuguese colonial period, the Government initiated a series of agricultural extension programs in an attempt to ‘induce a shift of population’ to the least-populated southern coast of Timor. While the ecological and population density variability found across Timor-Leste was perhaps not an intended consequence of such social displacements, colonial resettlement schemes have, in part, contributed to the situation wherein the Lautem district in the far east of the country has one of the lowest population densities and some of the more extensive forested and coastal resources of all the regions in Timor-Leste. In the period of Indonesian occupation, as Soares (2001:20) points out, napalm bombing and forced resettlement practices by the military ‘saw a mass destruction of the environment’ and resulted in widespread famine. Dunn (1983:338) also comments upon the ‘rapacious exploitation’ of sandalwood and other forest-based resources, which the Timorese traditionally depended on for their livelihood, during this period. Speaking of livelihoods, both Soares and Fox report that traditional identities, constructed around particular modes of livelihood, have been severely eroded over the past 25 years as a result of population movements and a greater emphasis upon rice and commercial crops, such as coffee (Fox 2000:25; Soares 2001:19–20). Indeed, Shepard Forman (1981:87) goes so far as to conclude that for the Makassae of Timor-Leste, with the loss of their means of livelihood during the period of occupation, ‘the cycle of production and exchange which reproduces life has been broken’.


Finding Bunaq: The homeland and expansion of the Bunaq in central Timor

by Antoinette Schapper
Introduction
The Bunaq people occupy a large area of central Timor, straddling both sides of the modern border. Whilst the Bunaq of Lamaknen in West Timor have been the focus of detailed ethnographic research by Louis Berthe and Claudine Friedberg, there is no broader work on the Bunaq in other parts of East and West Timor. This chapter aims to contribute to a better understanding of the region of central Timor by exploring the history of the Bunaq-speaking area as a whole.
The Bunaq are linguistically and socially isolated in central Timor. Bunaq is a Papuan or non-Austronesian language, spoken by approximately 80 000 people. They are surrounded on all sides by Austronesian languages: Kemak to the north, Mambai to the east and Tetun to the south and west. The other Papuan languages of Timor—Fataluku, Makasai and Makalero—are located in a contiguous coastal area on the island’s eastern tip.1 The Bunaq language is widely recognised by the Bunaq and their Austronesian neighbours as ‘different’, and, while Bunaq is rarely learnt by non-Bunaq, almost all Bunaq are fluent in at least one Austronesian language.
In addition, the Bunaq are typically regarded by their neighbours with disdain, frequently being characterised as a coarse and aggressive people. This view has ensured that the Bunaq have remained somewhat apart from them. What is more, this external perception of their nature has fed into the Bunaq’s own traditions, such as the concluding moral of the folk story of two brothers, Asa Paran and Mau Paran: En Emaq g-epal legul. En Bunaq g-epal gol (‘The Kemak people have long ears. The Bunaq people have small ears.’) The metaphor of short versus long ears refers to the contrasting temperaments of the Bunaq (short-tempered and impatient) and the Kemak (quiet and uncomplaining).
These factors of linguistic non-conformity and social isolation have set them apart to some degree. But they have also led to an inclusive cultural attitude on the part of the Bunaq, involving widespread borrowing and adaptation from Austronesian language and society, such that Berthe (1963) was compelled to describe the Bunaq as having a mixed Austronesian–Papuan descent.
This chapter documents the processes of Bunaq expansion, using evidence from oral histories, placenames and data from the dialects of the Bunaq language. A subsidiary aim of this chapter is to illustrate how linguistic materials can be used to supplement and improve the picture of the past presented in oral histories. The data discussed here were collected during field trips in 2006, 2007 and 2009 surveying the Bunaq area.
After a brief outline of the basic principles of dialectology and how they apply to Bunaq in section two, I explore the history of the individual Bunaq areas in section three, showing where and how the Bunaq have expanded into new areas, mingled and partly taken over from groups of Austronesian speakers. Finally, in section four, I discuss the position of the Bunaq in central Timor in light of the traditional Papuan–Austronesian dichotomy. I suggest that, whilst the Bunaq have taken over Austronesian lands, they did not arrive after the Austronesians, but have incorporated many Austronesian features through sustained contact—a form of cultural ‘metatypy’ (Ross 2006).
Bunaq Geography and Dialectology
Today the Bunaq-speaking area (Map 8.1) extends in the north from Maliana down to portions of the southern coast of Timor-Leste; it stretches east from the eastern edges of southern Belu regency in West Timor into the western edge of Manufahi subdistrict in Timor-Leste.
Across the wide geographical area in which Bunaq is spoken, there are several different dialects. Dialects are geographical variants of a single language and dialectology is the study of this variation. Dialects are distinguished from one another by the distinct phonological (sounds) and lexical (words) features they display. Features varying between dialects are treated as instances of diachronic divergence from a common ancestor. That is, dialect differences arise when a population of speakers of a single variation-free language in one area replaces an original feature, X, with innovative feature Y, while speakers in another area innovate feature Z for feature X, while those in still another area retain feature X as X, and so on.
11-186_Fig8-1_Bunaq_Overvie.tif
Map 8.1 The extent of the Bunaq language area

Darlau: Origins and their significance for Atsabe Kemak identity

by Andrea K. Molnar
Introduction
Membership in the former Atsabe domain is not separate from Atsabe Kemak identity. But in order to understand this identity relation, it is important to appreciate the Atsabe Kemak’s relation to land and particularly to places of origin. Darlau Mountain is one such focus, one origin place, and the question of who is a ‘true’ Kemak with a legitimate Kemak identity is enmeshed with this particular place of origin. In this chapter, I discuss the centrality of the great mountain of Darlau in Atsabe Kemak discourse on Kemak origins and identity.
Within the former Atsabe domain, Darlau is the tallest mountain (about 2400 m). Atsabe Kemak represent Darlau as the cosmic origin place where sky and earth were connected in the beginning of time when differentiation had not yet taken place. Darlau Mountain, as a place of origin, is often paired with or discussed in opposition to Atsabe Lau or Ramelau Mountain. Kemak people associate Ramelau with the dead, with funerary rites and the invisible villages of the ancestors, while they associate Darlau with living human descendants.1
According to myth, Darlau is the mountain where the origin village, Lemia, was founded by the first Kemak ancestors. Even the later invader who subjugated local related chiefdoms and amalgamated them into the larger Atsabe domain is legitimised through a connection to Darlau and the origin village there. The dispersal of settlements and the former small chiefdoms that emerged from these settlements, and thus made up the Atsabe domain, are elaborated upon by the Atsabe Kemak in relation to Darlau.
Darlau is also claimed as the site of origin for all sacred trees that, ordinarily, were not allowed to be cut down. In the ceremonial context of building origin houses, however, these trees are specifically utilised: uaorataha buci and gorutrees. In the myth of the origin of fire, the ancestor brings fire from the top of Darlau with a taha branch. Identification with Darlau is thus a significant aspect of Atsabe Kemak identity and a means by which they distinguish themselves in relation to other groups. Old origin villages that made up the Lemia chiefdom were located on Darlau and are still visited once a year by descendants to clean the graves of the ancestors and to place offerings. Through origin stories, I will highlight each of these significant elements of Darlau for the Atsabe Kemak, particularly in relation to notions of authority, precedence and subordination (cf. Fox 1995, 1999). The argument reinforces Reuter’s (2006a:13) point that ‘in a traditional cultural context, Austronesian-speaking societies have constructed their sense of identity and legitimised their territorial claims to land and other resources by reference to local and sometimes regional origin narratives’.
Various ANU-based anthropologists have developed the concept of precedence for the comparative study of Austronesian societies.2 This group of anthropologists has suggested that a fruitful comparative study of Austronesian societies needs to focus on indigenous conceptions of origins. Fox (1988:15, 1995:214–28) labelled the different configurations in which this preoccupation appears as ‘origin structures’. He proposed that the studies of ‘origin structures’ and of the systems of precedence they generate are useful forms of comparison across Austronesian societies.3 Two major issues in the study of precedence concern ‘what validates precedence and what it confirms’. The study of origins in these societies sheds light on what precedence confirms, since it is only in relation to the past that precedence is justified (Fox 1994:106). Furthermore, ‘it is necessary for participants in systems of precedence to be able to trace relations to prior events, structures and persons’ (Fox 1994:106). ‘Context is paramount in the application of precedence…It is multivalued…[and] precedence can be used to create hierarchies, to dispute them, or simply undermine their creation’ (Fox 1994:106). Relations of precedence among the smaller chiefdoms encompassed by the former Atsabe domain are expressed in origin myths in relation to specific places of origin and the dissemination of settlements from such places of earlier origin. One way the Kemak define their cultural identity is through their relation to the Darlau, particularly to the first origin village, Lemia, and the first chiefdom that coalesced there. Origin stories are significant among the Atsabe Kemak in narrating the past in relation to the local topography and landscape, and indeed in connection with the ordering of social relations within the former Atsabe domain in relation to specific places within their locality (cf. Fox 1997). The origin village and Darlau Mountain serve as significant metaphors for ‘Kemakness’. While origin houses serve as the pivotal nexus of all marriage alliances that weave together the larger social fabric of a former domain, hierarchical relations among the component chiefdoms (the current main villages) are expressed in relation to origins from Lemia and Darlau. A relation to this mountain and to other significant places in the landscape is central in the narratives and local discourse on identity and intra-group relations and thus social reproduction. Various previous studies (for example, Fox 1997; Reuter 2006b) have highlighted the ways Austronesian cultures relate to place and the landscape in encoding their memories of place as an ‘origin’ structure, a ‘metaphor for living’ (cf. Fox 1980a:333).
Before proceeding to a background discussion on the Kemak of Atsabe, I wish to clarify the ways I will use the terms domain, and chiefdom and domain. Chiefdom and domain refer to a hierarchical, centralised political organisation of varying size with a formal leader: a chief or ruler. Domain refers to the extent of the territory over which a ruler or chief had authority. The heads of these various domains had different titles. The ruler of the Atsabe domain held the title ofkoronel bote; other lesser domains were headed by figures that held the ranked titles of naidato and rati.
While kin relations were recognised among the various chiefdoms that derived from the original Lemia chiefdom on Darlau, they were completely autonomous in their authority over their chiefdoms’ territorial domains and internal affairs. Once these chiefdoms coalesced into the Atsabe domain, the degree of autonomy of each chiefdom was affected—the authority of that chief had to be legitimised and confirmed by the rulers and the chiefs had to fulfil various obligations towards the ruler and the domain. Furthermore, the individual chiefdoms ceased to be territorially expansionist. The Atsabe domain, however, engaged in the expansion of its territorial domain that brought under its authority other groups, some of which were not Kemak. I shall elaborate further on the hierarchical organisation of the Atsabe domain in a later part of this chapter.
The Kemak of Atsabe