It's difficult for me to imagine what emotions the Timorese felt on this day. I mean, I appreciate my American liberty and have a deep respect for my country, and I remember the good in America and the blessing of freedom on the 4th of July. But I wasn't alive for our independence struggle so I have a more distant perspective from learning about it from history books.
But being here, with all the emotions and experiences of the independence struggle so fresh was really eye-opening to me. How often I forget that many countries earn their independence in a bloody struggle. Often many sacrifices are made, including many lives of friends, family, and neighbors.
On the day before their Independence Day, Brendan and I participated in a Mass with over 1,000 people, honoring the memory of those who died in the independence transition.
After Mass, led by the Saint Peter's High School band, most of the people marched to the Santa Cruz Cemetery to pray where one of the worst massacres took place.
In the Santa Cruz massacre, about one hundred college students and young people were killed during a peaceful protest. Ironically, they were protesting the murder of a student who had been peacefully protesting and they were walking to the cemetery in his memory. The Indonesian military set up an ambush and opened fire on the students. The incident was videotaped by an international journalist - the tape survived and was smuggled out of the country and aired on international news. It was one of the first clues that the rest of the world had of what was happening in Timor.
And the people remember. Almost everyone has been touched by a death or injury to someone they cared about and many of them were part of the events. Sister Terezhina, the principal of the University where Brendan teaches, shared that she had been a university student during the Santa Cruz massacre. She was at school when the shooting started and her and a friend rode a scooter to the cemetery to try to get some friends to safety. As with most horrible situations, they are contrasted by the brave and selfless actions of many people.
So the Timorese really have reason to celebrate and they celebrate well! There is no school and no work (except for the taxi drivers taking people to and from the Palacio do Governo and the food vendors located there).
For the holiday, everyone flooded the square in front of their main government building to watch the full day of activities, including a ceremony, parade, and concert, along with their President Jose Ramos Horta. Everyone who couldn't make it in person watched on the TV or listened on the radio.
To enjoy the holiday, Brendan and I started off the day with...laundry, because I was entirely out of clean clothes and Brendan was almost out too. I wanted to go to the Palacio by 9 am because that's when everything was supposed to start and we wanted to be sure to see the Canossa drum band. But instead we leisurely handwashed our clothes, because Brendan in his wisdom knew that 9 am here = 10 am or later.
He was right. We showed up at 10:30 and we had missed part of the ceremony, but were just on time for the parade. These aren't like parades at home - there's less hype, no politics, and most difficult to comprehend, parades here are not synonymous with candy-gorging sessions (for most of my young life I associated parades with candy, especially tootsie rolls).
But for their national parade here they had representatives of military units walk by with flags, uniforms, and guns. Then the police force.
After them came a group of men in traditional Timorese garb and carrying swords. And after them came the marching "drum bands" from different schools (with the Canossa drum band going first : )
Before they started marching we got pictures of the English Clubbers, who were more than half of the snare drum section. They had on snappy uniforms and looked a little nervous to be performing in front of their country's leaders. But they did great! We were shocked when, after only a few weeks of practice, they pulled off a 10 minute show with different songs and riffs dead center in front of their President, while the school cheerleaders did stunts and dances on the sides. After they had finished, Brendan and I caught up with them to congratulate them on a nice show. They were very hot, but very happy.
It was really interesting for me to watch the drum bands, because I was in marching band all throughout high school. The Timorese bands were better than I expected, but still so different.
There are almost no instruments besides drums. Only the military band had 4 trumpets in addition to drums, and those were rough on the ears. My Grandpa Bill was a band director and is still a great trumpet player and I thought of how he would have cringed at the sound coming from those trumpets. But it's understandable -
1. Instruments are expensive and there isn't extra money to spend on much here
2. If you do get a hold of an instrument you probably have to teach yourselves.
Brendan played trumpet and he noticed that the soldiers weren't even using the keys to change notes - only the shape of their mouth like a bugle. So having no money for instruments and no professional instruction limits what they can do, but like everything in Timor the people use what they have and make it work better than expected.
What the Canossa drum band did have was 3 sizes of drums, marching xylophones, and small keyboards (that look like children's toy keyboards) where a tube connected the keyboard to the player's mouth like a straw. The player then blew air to somehow amplify the sound as they hit the keys. All very interesting (I had never seen keyboards like that before).
After we said goodbye to the students and the crowds we relaxed! We caught up on some work, walked, and had a long afternoon nap. Another great day here in Timor Leste!
I got a $3 t-shirt the other day that really sums it up well. The shirt has the outline of a traditional Timorese house and a quotation underneath, "Timor Leste - beautiful land, lovely people." : )
Loving You Always,
Rachel and Brendan
No comments:
Post a Comment