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reported by Jim Wackett--World Vision Australia Media Bureau
When I arrived in Dili almost two weeks ago, the entire city was a vacant, smoldering ruin. I had to look hard to find a building that wasn't burning or already steaming, charred rubble. Those not torched had been looted and were soon to be burned. The streets were hauntingly empty; there were no people, no cars, no commerce of any sort. Just thousands of Indonesian troops (TNI) slowly exiting and the U.N. peacekeeping force (INTERFET) slowly arriving. Several thousand displaced Timorese huddled in makeshift shelters on the city's shorefront. The rest of the city's population had fled into the hills.
Within a few days the TNI began withdrawing in large numbers, burning their barracks as they left. Through the large iron fence at the quayside the departing soldiers would sell their rations at exorbitant prices to the hungry Timorese who were brave enough to venture out of their makeshift camps on the nearby sea-front.
As the TNI began leaving and INTERFET gained dominance in Dili people began to return to the destroyed capital from their hiding places in the hills.
Only 24 hours after arriving in East Timor with a small staff, World Vision was distributing needed rice from warehouses in Dili to suburbs using two notoriously unreliable trucks. When more supplies and staff members arrived, regular distributions of food, blankets and tarps to thousands of people in Dili and the suburbs began.
The number of buildings being torched each day began to decrease and more and more people gathered on the streets. A handful of taxis appeared, then small fishing boats in the harbor. A few tiny stalls began to appear, selling tomatoes and mangoes. All encouraging signs, but the streets empty at sunset, evidence that fear still reigns.
Over three days I saw hundreds of Timorese returning from the hills through the dry river bed at Moto Laran, their faces gaunt, their bodies tired and hungry. Yet always a smile, always a greeting ("Bon dia!") and a genuine gratitude, humbling to witness. The kids, as always, seemed to bounce back quickly. Their faces beamed as they skipped and played and fumbled with the few English words they knew. But you know their cheeky play is just a coping mechanism, suppressing dark and desperate memories they will take years to come to terms with.
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