5th of May of 2013. I am at the land border between Indonesia and Timor Leste. I address myself to the immigration officers to get the entry permission stamp and more bureaucracy; slowly cross the bridge over the river that divides both territories; and, finally, I step onto Timorese soil.

Through my veins, runs a mysterious, hair-raising chill. At the same time, I feel sadness and fury for the unjustified blood spilt in this same place not many years ago, caused by the greed and insatiable territorial hunger of a bunch of brainless Indonesian military led by their senseless and egomaniac dictator, the spoiled brat Soeharto, who, in addition to attempted genocide of people within his own country for racial and ideological reasons, was so power-hungry that he couldn’t resist invading Timor Leste, continued to massacre by his free will.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Just 9 days after the proclamation of independence of Timor-Leste from the Portuguese colonies, on the 7th of December of 1975, the spoiled brat Soeharto’s military marionettes flooded across the border with patriotism and ignorance, and devastated the border area and the capital Dili. Thus began the murderous 24 year long occupation, which resulted in the disappearance and butchery of a quarter of the total population.

 

 

As I make my way on the pedals, dodging pot holes on the dusty paths, surprised locals shout excitedly on my way “¡Bom dia!”, from the old Portuguese. Kindness and happiness is breathed into the atmosphere, and in every push of the pedal, excited and playful kids appear screaming energetically at the fleeting presence of a peculiar character: big, ugly, beardy and on a bicycle. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Many of them had to abandon their families, never to see them again, when they joined their “guerrilla” comrades from Falintil (Forças Armadas de Libertação e Independência de Timor-Leste, commanded by Xanana Gusmao) high in the mountains

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The brat, make no mistake, was spoiled by the USA, England and Australia! What were they doing, a country of 200 million or so inhabitants, with a vast army, invading another one of only 600,000, without an established army? It makes my blood boil – coward! And furthermore, supported militarily by these three greedy western bullies. It turns out that Timor-Leste owns large oil reserves on its land and sea territory. It’s no surprise that those three thirsty bullies, and their self-interested governors, jumped at the chance to send several toys and sweets to the spoiled brat so that he could use them in his playground and stop whinging. Same tale once again, which ends in death and suffering for the humanity, playing carelessly with precious lives. For almost two decades the United Nations (with its more than suspicious headquarters in the USA) largely ignored the carnage that was occurring in Timor-Leste. It wasn’t until the last years of the occupation, when the balance slowly started tipping towards Timorese freedom, that the UN finally began to recognize the incidents that were happening and take matters on the issue, and those three hypocrite governments shamelessly jumped ship to wave the flag of independence. On the off-chance that after the land returned to Timorese hands there might be a shortage of oil supplies for those self-interested bullies, and don’t you worry, because they would be the first ones to proudly give themselves medals for their last-minute help and international cooperation for the nation’s rebuilding.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

20th of May of 2002, the independence of the Timorese land is restored, amongst tears and hugs. The new government, formed mainly by the Timorese Ché, Xanana Gusmao, chief commandant of the guerrilla forces during most of the occupation period, and José Ramos-Horta, Nobel Peace prize recipient for his fight for Timorese liberation from overseas, 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Because of the spoiled brat’s tantrums, they are still, even now, searching for mass graves in Timor-Leste and Indonesia.

 

I am just a few kilometers away from the capital, Dili.  My host from the night before, Apolio, a young English teacher in the local school, tells me briefly about the basics of Timorese history and his family ancestors. We also exchange some English conversation for some basic lessons of the local language, Tetun. A few years ago, he was working for the UN as an interpreter during the international cooperation. In Dili awaits my French friend, Yann, who will host me for a few days.  Meanwhile, I battle with the Indonesian Embassy to get more authorisation.  More about the useless bureaucracy of the modern times.

I curse him, that first inhabitant of the earth who decided to draw an imaginary line on the map; placing useless borders above this earth, provoking future territorial fights, world injustice, self-interested wars, power hierarchies, senseless patriotism, creating the difference between superior and inferior, manufacturing tools to kill and not to eat, burning life, changing the colors, stealing the smile of the world.

Above this wonderful earth, which one day, long ago, was pure, free and for everybody.