This article was downloaded by: [University of Regina] On: 13 May 2013, At: 12:33 Publisher: Routledge Informa Ltd Registered in England and Wales Registered Number: 1072954 Registered office: Mortimer House, 37-41 Mortimer Street, London W1T 3JH, UK The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology Publication details, including instructions for authors and subscription information: http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rtap20 Transnationalism and Relationships with ‘Home’ among Women in the East Timorese Community in Melbourne Maya Costa-Pinto Published online: 24 May 2012. To cite this article: Maya Costa-Pinto (2012): Transnationalism and Relationships with ‘Home’ among Women in the East Timorese Community in Melbourne, The Asia Pacific Journal of Anthropology, 13:3, 280-296 To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14442213.2012.679010 PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR ARTICLE Full terms and conditions of use: http://www.tandfonline.com/page/terms-and- conditions This article may be used for research, teaching, and private study purposes. Any substantial or systematic reproduction, redistribution, reselling, loan, sub-licensing, systematic supply, or distribution in any form to anyone is expressly forbidden. The publisher does not give any warranty express or implied or make any representation that the contents will be complete or accurate or up to date. The accuracy of any instructions, formulae, and drug doses should be independently verified with primary sources. The publisher shall not be liable for any loss, actions, claims, proceedings, demand, or costs or damages whatsoever or howsoever caused arising directly or indirectly in connection with or arising out of the use of this material.
Transcript
This article was downloaded by: [University of Regina]On: 13 May 2013, At: 12:33Publisher: RoutledgeInforma Ltd Registered in England and Wales Registered Number: 1072954 Registeredoffice: Mortimer House, 37-41 Mortimer Street, London W1T 3JH, UK
The Asia Pacific Journal ofAnthropologyPublication details, including instructions for authors andsubscription information:http://www.tandfonline.com/loi/rtap20
Transnationalism and Relationshipswith ‘Home’ among Women in the EastTimorese Community in MelbourneMaya Costa-PintoPublished online: 24 May 2012.
To cite this article: Maya Costa-Pinto (2012): Transnationalism and Relationships with ‘Home’among Women in the East Timorese Community in Melbourne, The Asia Pacific Journal ofAnthropology, 13:3, 280-296
To link to this article: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14442213.2012.679010
PLEASE SCROLL DOWN FOR ARTICLE
Full terms and conditions of use: http://www.tandfonline.com/page/terms-and-conditions
This article may be used for research, teaching, and private study purposes. Anysubstantial or systematic reproduction, redistribution, reselling, loan, sub-licensing,systematic supply, or distribution in any form to anyone is expressly forbidden.
The publisher does not give any warranty express or implied or make any representationthat the contents will be complete or accurate or up to date. The accuracy of anyinstructions, formulae, and drug doses should be independently verified with primarysources. The publisher shall not be liable for any loss, actions, claims, proceedings,demand, or costs or damages whatsoever or howsoever caused arising directly orindirectly in connection with or arising out of the use of this material.
citizenship. While there have been studies of the East Timorese diaspora, most situate
the community within the context of a refugee community (Wise 2006; Askland
2005; Crockford 2001). Despite an increase in the volume of scholarship (Crockford
2007), there is still a dearth of literature on the gender-ethnicity nexus within the
diaspora particularly in relation to transnationalism. This article primarily examines
the narratives of women in the community and how these narratives connect with
concepts of long-distance nationalism and transnationalism.
The notion that the nation is ‘an imagined community’ in which most members
never meet because ‘the nation is always conceived as a deep horizontal comradeship’
(Anderson 1991, p. 7) is a concept particularly relevant to the East Timorese diaspora
in Melbourne. Prior to independence many members aligned themselves with the
hopes and ideals of compatriots back home in their fight for freedom. They are a
group of ‘interconnected members who share equally in their fundamental
membership in the community’, with their interconnectedness being as important
as physical presence (Chavez 1994, p. 54). The Timorese ‘imagined community’ is not
restricted to a specific geographic locale (Gupta & Ferguson 1992) and can be
described as a transnational (Rouse 1991) or extended (Whiteford 1979) community
that constructed the diasporic project of imagined nationhood.
Research Methodology
This research forms part of a broader project on identity within the East Timorese
diaspora in Melbourne in the post independence period (Costa-Pinto 2007) and was
conducted over a four months in Melbourne in 2006�7. The methods included in-
depth semi-structured interviews with fifteen women, informal discussions with both
women and men, and participant observation at a number of community events
including Independence Day celebrations. With the exception of one interviewee
born in a refugee camp in Portugal after her parents left East Timor, all the other
interviewees were born in East Timor. The fifteen women ranged in age from twenty-
nine to sixty-three years. This small purposive sample is by no means representative
of the views of the entire community in Australia. The majority of the interviewed
women arrived in Australia between 1975 and 1988, but a minority arrived in the
1990s. All were active participants in a range of activities including a community
choir and organising dinners on Fridays for members of the community. Five
identified as Chinese-Timorese or ‘Timorese-Chinese’,2 nine said they were
‘Timorese’, and one described herself as ‘Australian-Timorese’.
Participants with whom I conducted in-depth interviews were asked a longer list of
questions which elicited personal narratives about their life experiences. All
interviews were conducted at a time and place of the interviewees’ choice, mostly
in English. Members of the Chinese-Timorese community who were not comfortable
being interviewed in English were interviewed at the Timorese Ethnic Chinese
Victoria community centre, with an interpreter in attendance. The interpreter was a
well-respected member of the community fluent in English and Hakka.
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During my research there was unrest in East Timor. The sacking of 600 soldiers
from the army led to violence on the streets, which was portrayed by the media as an
ethnic loromonu/lorosae3 conflict. Although initially this was not a significant topic of
conversation within the community as Australia’s involvement increased it grew in
importance. Informal conversations with a number of women and men provided
insights into how the conflict impacted transnational exchanges with East Timor, but
also how it affected my interviewees’ relationship with East Timor.
The East Timorese Community in Australia
The Democratic Republic of East Timor has had close links with Australia ever since
the first refugees arrived following occupation by the Japanese during World War II
from Portuguese Timor. The first evacuation of 535 refugees to Australia occurred
during 1942�3. In accordance with the principle of the White Australia Policy,4 the
Portuguese and mesticos (who were considered Portuguese) were the only individuals
evacuated (Thatcher 1992, p. 2).
The outbreak of civil war and the subsequent Indonesian invasion in 1975 resulted
in 10,000 refugees fleeing East Timor. Some went to West Timor and from there
moved to other parts of the world including Portugal, Taiwan, Macau and Australia.
Many came directly to Australia, landing in Darwin and then being sent to other
parts of the country. Some who went to Portugal stayed for a few years before moving
to Melbourne and other Australian cities. According to the Australian Department of
Immigration 2348 refugees came to Australia (1975�6).
The refugees fleeing the civil war formed the nucleus of the Timorese community
in Australia (Crockford 2007, p. 116). A large majority were ethnic Chinese, because
they had the means to finance their departure.5 Between 1976 and 1981, 2447 Timor-
born people arrived in Australia (Australian Bureau of Statistics 1986). Although the
Australian government permitted spouses and dependent children in East Timor to
migrate in 1976, expanding this in 1977 to include non-dependent parents and
siblings, by 1978 the criteria was revised and non-dependent parents, children and
siblings were refused entry. After sustained pressure from the Timorese community,
the government agreed to make provisions under the Special Humanitarian
Assistance program to allow close relatives to enter. The greatest exodus of East
Timorese refugees to Australia occurred under this program and continued for much
of the 1980s (Goodman 2000, p. 31).
The refugee situation became more delicate in 1989 with the signing of the Timor
Gap Treaty6 with Jakarta. Refugees had until then acquired permanent residency
fairly quickly, but in the early 1990s East Timorese asylum seekers were granted
temporary bridging visas, with their application for refugee status put on hold
(Askland 2005, pp. 67�69). In 1994, fearing that accepting asylum seekers would
anger Indonesia and seeking to disqualify them from seeking refugee status in
Australia, the Australian government recommended that they be entitled to
Portuguese nationality (Rees 2003, Wise 2002, pp. 66�68, Askland 2005, pp. 67�69).
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According to the 2006 Australian Census there were 9,320 East Timor-born people
in Australia with the greatest number in Victoria (5010), followed by New South
Wales (2280), the Northern Territory, and Queensland (Australian Bureau of
Statistics 2006). Wise argues that there are considerable differences in the ‘makeup’
of the East Timorese diaspora in Australia (Wise 2006, p. 49). Those who arrived in
the 1970s were ‘primarily educated town dwellers that were socialized under
Portuguese rule’ (Wise 2006, p. 49). Those who arrived in the 1980s had often spent
a significant period of time in Portugal. Individuals who arrived in the 1990s had
sometimes spent ‘the better part of twenty years under Indonesian rule’ (Wise 2006,
p. 49) with the younger arrivals having completed some of their schooling there.7
Another point of difference is the ‘significant cleavage’ (Wise 2006, p. 49) between the
Chinese-Timorese and other Timorese (consisting of the Mestico and Indigenous).
The relationship between the two communities has been strained in the past and they
do not interact with one another on a regular basis. This paper does not examine
these relationships; however it is important to note that while some members of the
Timorese community feel that the relationship between the Chinese-Timorese and
Timorese is still strained, others believe that the relationship has greatly improved.
Most interviewees left East Timor because of the civil war, although they came to
Australia at different times and their trajectories of entry were very diverse. Many had
worked for the Portuguese government in Dili and therefore had more opportunities
to leave (Costa-Pinto & Whittaker 2010 p. 508). Some interviewees came as refugees
directly to Australia, while others went to Portugal or Mozambique before arriving in
Australia through family sponsorship. Maria boarded a Norwegian ship and came
directly with her family to Australia. Another interviewee, Celia, who was widowed,
left East Timor for Portugal in 1979 with her youngest daughter and no financial
resources. The rest of her family joined her in Portugal before the family moved to
Australia in 1985. Angela arrived in Australia in 1985 after leaving East Timor to go
to Mozambique in 1972. Jennifer was reluctant to leave Indonesian-occupied East
Timor, as she had a steady, well-paying job under the Indonesians, but her mother,
concerned for her safety, convinced her to migrate (Costa-Pinto & Whittaker 2010
p. 508). Interviewees who came directly to Australia from East Timor in 1975 usually
arrived in Darwin before moving to Melbourne. Those who came to Australia from
Portugal generally stated that the primary reason was the ‘better opportunities’
however they emphasised that an additional attraction was its proximity to East
Timor (Costa-Pinto & Whittaker 2010 p. 508).
Being a closely knit and self-sufficient group, most of the Chinese-Timorese did
not develop fluency in English, while the wider Timorese community who were more
dispersed did. In her study of the East Timorese community in Sydney, Wise
observed that most Timorese found that learning English was the most difficult part
of the transition that had ‘profound effects on a person’s life’ often making it difficult
to find jobs, deal with complex immigration issues, access health care, and do daily
tasks (Wise 2006, pp. 56�7).
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For many of the interviewed women discrimination8 also played a part in their
strong identification with East Timor. The homogenous representation of ‘Asian’ in
Australia proved problematic for those interviewees who had come from a country in
Asia, but looked European, or who spoke Portuguese. Some described themselves as
having a ‘European outlook’ (although they did not define what a ‘European outlook’
was) as a way of distinguishing themselves from the Chinese-Timorese. The inevitable
question most interviewees were confronted with was, ‘Where are you from?’. This is
a sensitive question among minority Australians as it is ‘often asked in the context of
denaturalization of our status as cohabitants in this country, and in the automatic
assumption that because we don’t fit into the stereotypical image of the typical
Australian, we somehow don’t (quite) ‘‘belong’’ here’ (Ang 2001, p. 144). I argue that
this self-perception that they are not or can never be ‘Australian’ enough is a
prominent reason for many in the community strongly identifying as ‘East Timorese’:
I am very proud to be Timorese. . .to go any place and tell them that I’m Timoresebecause I believe that as a person we have to have a background otherwise how canwe describe ourselves? Because if [we say we are] Australians they say ‘‘No, we’re theAustralians’’. (Amalia, 33 years old)
Wise (2004) argues that one of the most significant features of the Timorese
diaspora in Australia is the ‘extent to which their collective fight to free East Timor
from Indonesian occupation figured in their collective imagination’ (Wise 2004,
p. 153). Most Timorese I spoke with stated that they were committed to, and had
spent a great deal of time and resources on achieving independence. However once
independence from Indonesia had been achieved, the community had become
more disconnected as people wanted to move on and concentrate on other aspects of
their lives.
The interviewees repeatedly referred to their ‘community’ to highlight inclusive-
ness, and exclusiveness, so as to differentiate themselves from other groups such as
the Chinese-Timorese and Australian populations. There was a clear distinction
between the Chinese- Timorese and Timorese community, but even within these
communities there were differences along class, gender and generational lines that
soon became evident. Hence, regardless of whether a community is defined according
to ‘ethnicity, religion, occupation or home place, it is nonetheless characterised by
difference and power hierarchies that work to privilege some, but not others within
it’ (Leung 2006, p. 242).
Crossing Borders: Transnationalism in the East Timorese Context
Celia, a sixty-three-year-old Timorese woman, came to Australia via Portugal in 1985.
She fled East Timor in 1979 and went to Portugal. She has been in Australia for
twenty-one years, but maintains that she will always ‘feel Timorese’. Celia is originally
from Maubara (near Liquica) but lived in Dili before fleeing to Portugal. Since
independence, Celia has been returning to East Timor at least once or twice a year.
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She is no longer politically active and has no connection to any political party there.
Her mother and sister, to whom she is very close, still live in East Timor as do many
of her in-laws. While she feels at home among this tight-knit community of family
and friends in East Timor, she does not want to live there permanently because she
has children and grandchildren in Australia. However, two of her sons have moved
back to East Timor and visit Australia occasionally.
Celia’s transnational lifestyle is not uncommon as many have at least one member
of their immediate family commuting regularly between Australia and East Timor.
Some, like Lusia, who arrived in Australia from East Timor in the mid-1980s,
returned to East Timor in June 2006 during the unrest to support her family, while
others went to work with various international and local NGOs and aid agencies.
Transnationalism describes this movement and settlement across international
borders. People ‘organize their economic familial and social relations within
networks’ that extend across their country of origin and the subsequent countries
they live in (Fouron & Glick- Schiller, 2002, in Ip & Hsu 2006, p. 273) and can often
‘identify with several places communities and societies at the same time’ (De Bree
et al. 2010, p. 491). This is particularly true of the East Timorese community in
Melbourne who have Australian and often Portuguese citizenship, but who also
strongly identify as ‘East Timorese’.
Having various ‘networks of relationships’ (Basch et al. 1994, p. 7) allows the East
Timorese to maintain links and loyalties to more than one nation simultaneously
(Vertovec 1999) and many feel they can contribute culturally to more than one
country. Clifford articulates this as ‘the empowering paradox of diaspora is that
dwelling here assumes a solidarity and connection there’ (Clifford 1994, p. 322).
Transnationalism in the East Timorese community is a ‘fluid process’ which
manifests in various ‘constructed styles, social institutions and everyday practices’
(Vertovec 2009, p. 7), and is reproduced culturally through different media such as
writing, music and the visual arts. As a community these cultural forms provide
younger women in the community, like Gracia, Angela and Ana, with a way of
‘translating between different languages, different worlds’ (Hall 1996, p. 399). Spivak
(1989, p. 276) engages this when she discusses the ‘discourse of cultural specificity
and difference, packaged for ‘transnational consumption through global technolo-
gies’. Although diaspora and transnational communities are sometimes formed
through forced migration*usually due to an oppressive political regime as was the
case with East Timor*many migrants engage in transnational practices usually as a
way to send capital back to their home country.
The high level of human mobility and access to telecommunications has also
transformed the East Timorese community in Melbourne. Telecommunications have
bound together and ‘localised’ global communities allowing them greater participa-
tion in the politics of their home country and the ‘spatial extension of once nationally
contained households, social networks and ethnic communities across national
boundaries’ is rendering people ‘borderless’(Smith 1994, p. 16). The boundaries of
the nation-state are no longer consistent with the spaces these people inhabit (Smith
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1994, p. 16). Two of my interviewees Gracia and Amalia emphasised throughout their
interviews that although they cannot travel regularly to East Timor because of family
commitments in Australia, they were in regular phone contact with relatives there.
Relationship with ‘Home’
Most informants maintained that despite living in Australia, they always ‘felt East
Timorese’ and liked to return there as often as possible. Their ‘imagining’ of East
Timor was influenced by a number of factors, including when they left, the
circumstances under which they arrived in Australia and how often they returned.
Many of the younger generation stated that they ‘absolutely loved it’ right from their
first visit. Those, like Angela, who did not speak Tetum, acknowledged that
communication was a problem, but still felt a ‘sense of belonging’ that they did
not experience in Australia. One of my interviewees, Ana, described her first visit to
East Timor in 1999:
The first time that I went, I knew I was at home, you know all this beautifullandscape and the people, it was just, you know, something that I knew through myparents and going back was like-. . .it was like I was there but I wasn’t and it was likeI knew East Timor. . .it was an amazing experience and very overwhelming when Ihad the chance to go back in ’99.
Ana has not had the opportunity to return to East Timor since, and so her vision
of East Timor is based on her pre-independence experience. She maintains a strong
interest in the country and participates actively in community activities, helping
organise community dinners and singing in a choir. Another interviewee Amalia, a
mother of five who also does not return to East Timor frequently, described her
experience:
When I first got there, I just felt that oh. . . .that’s my place. You feel that that’s whatbelongs to you-that’s what you call your country � your motherland. . .just anatural thing.
Other interviewees, who had returned to East Timor in the post independence
period and who commuted fairly regularly still maintained their commitment to and
love for East Timor. At the same time, when talking about their experiences in East
Timor, these women also criticised the work of the international organisations in the
‘reconstruction’ process.
Women’s engagement with transnational exchanges is also complicated by gender.
Men and women ‘participate differently in transnational spaces’ (Gingrich & Kerry
Preibisch 2010, p. 1501). The ‘gendered nature’ of participation in transnational
living, was clearly evident in the Melbourne East Timorese community. My informal
discussions revealed that men tended to travel between Australia and East Timor
more regularly than women. While a minority of those interviewed travelled to East
Timor frequently, others returned rarely mostly because of familial responsibilities in
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Australia. In Ana’s case her Timorese husband was ‘very comfortable’ in Australia and
she felt settled in Australia and therefore found it difficult to return to East Timor on
a regular basis. Ana’s example emphasises that for women ‘their activities are also
conditioned by a set of normative and cultural regulations based upon hegemonic
interpretations of gender roles’ (Salih 2001, p. 656).
Despite responsibilities for rearing children and managing domestic life many East
Timorese women still actively engaged in transnationalism. ‘Movement is not a
prerequisite to engagement in transnational activities’ (2010, p. 1501), and while
some ‘transmigrants’ travel regularly, others primarily live in one location but
‘are integrally linked to social contexts that occur in another nation state’, and there
are still others who ‘do not move at all but whose social world has become
transnationalised’ (Gingrich & Preibisch 2010, p. 1501). Many East Timorese women
fall into the last two categories.
Most of my interviewees actively choose to engage in transnational practices. Many
of these women had spent very little time in East Timor and felt that it was a
patriarchal society where the primary role for women was to marry and have
children. Therefore, although some women expressed a desire to return permanently
to East Timor, many others do not want to leave Australia as they feel they would lose
rights they have gained. Angela, a thirty-five-year-old single woman living in
Melbourne, who moved to Australia when she was a teenager, stated that she would
never consider moving to East Timor because it was still ‘quite sexist’ and she could
not live in a society where women were considered ‘different’ or ‘less’. But Josefa,
stated that she would consider moving back, though she also noted that she had not
visited East Timor since 1995. She had not returned even after Independence because
she feared not being judged ‘a good daughter-in-law’ by members of her husband’s
family still living there. In the Timorese community kinship obligations are
significant and place a huge burden of responsibility on both women and men. In
Australia, Josefa did not have to live in a multi-generational household but, she could
live with her nuclear family while still maintaining extensive links with her family in
East Timor.
Some women stated that although they loved East Timor, Australia presented far
more opportunities for their children. Amalia, a younger member of the community,
stated that although she keeps in regular touch with her family in East Timor and
many of her friends and relatives had returned, she could not see herself doing the
same in the near future:
That’s a very hard question, especially since I am a mother of five. You just want tostay where the children can have a bright future. No matter how much you like thecountry, you want to choose the best country for them. Probably one day when Iget old I would like to stay there.
Even those, like Angela, who said that East Timor remained a ‘holiday destination’
insisted that they remain committed to it and continue to contribute to the
‘imaginative resources’ of long-distance nationalism (Wise 2004, p. 151). Gracia,
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forty-one years, has to live in Australia because of the facilities available for the
special needs of her son. But she continues to write about East Timor and a number
of her stories and letters have been published. She said:
I am committed to East Timor. I’m East Timorese. In my heart and even in mywriting. What I write about, about East Timor and about being East Timoreseabout the struggle, about the history and the legends and the myths and the landand the people.
Angela remains invested in East Timor through the choir she started. She sees this
as a significant contribution because the songs are a way of ‘capturing and preserving
the native languages, many of which are disappearing’. She would consider returning
to research certain songs and music as there is a dearth of recorded material. She is
also keen to organise a program of visiting Timorese artists to educate the East
Timorese diaspora.
The Chinese-Timorese community in Melbourne also had a strong affinity for East
Timor, but none of the research participants expressed a desire to return. Their
‘imagining’ of East Timor was clearly influenced by their own experiences as a
minority group there. Historically, they faced discrimination and in many cases were
regarded as ‘opportunistic aliens’ by the Portuguese and the Timorese (Dunn 2003,
p. 3). Wise estimates that approximately 90 per cent of Chinese-Timorese have left
East Timor and that most of them are living in Australia (Wise 2006, p. 49). Most live
in Darwin, Sydney and Melbourne. They form a relatively harmonious group and
mix primarily within their own community. One of my Chinese-Timorese
interviewees, Carmen, described East Timor ‘as a paradise’ that she would never
have left if the war had not intervened. At the same time, however, she confirmed that
despite having a sister still living there, she rarely kept in touch with East Timor and
did not wish to return. ‘In East Timor’ she stated, ‘even if you have money, you don’t
know what will happen tomorrow’.
Jennifer, a prominent member of Timorese Ethnic Chinese Victoria (TECVIC),
stated that while individual members of the community cannot envision ever
returning to East Timor, the Chinese-Timorese community as a whole contributed a
lot to the country. The president of TECVIC returns regularly to represent the
community and has travelled with the Premier of Victoria to inaugurate the house
where five Australians journalists were killed in Balibo.9
Although most interviewees called East Timor ‘home’, many preferred to stay in
Australia because of the opportunities, or to avoid family obligations awaiting them
in East Timor. In many ways the Timorese community and especially the Chinese-
Timorese community are more ‘at home in exile’ (Constable 1999, p. 207). Josefa,
Angela and Gracia, although expressing a love for and commitment to East Timor,
seemed happy in Australia. Many migrated by choice and enjoyed their opportunities
and privileges as Australian citizens. Australia has provided them with a place where
they can find ‘refuge, a space in which to find satisfaction’.
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Engagement with East Timor
The violence in February 2006 caused many in the East Timorese community in
Australia to reassess their relationship with East Timor. Many women I interviewed
were disappointed and embarrassed given the time and effort that had been invested
in obtaining independence. Gracia summed up the experience:
I am very disappointed. East Timorese inside and outside we all fought forindependence in the way we could and know how to*we were really happy andproud that we achieved independence and for now all this fighting, for me it’s reallydisappointing. For my dad too and my mum, of course. I don’t know what they arefighting about. It’s completely stupid. Why did we fight for Independence for this now?
The engagement in transnational political activities among diasporic communities
is a contentious area among theorists who believe that ‘long distance nationalism’
manifests itself in a number of different ways. There is a tendency to assume that
diasporic communities are committed to advancing human rights, civic and legal
issues among their own communities (Cohen 1985, p. 13). However, from Gracia’s
reactions to the situation in East Timor we see that members of diasporic
communities engage with the politics of their homeland in complicated ways.
Interviewees who had only visited East Timor once or twice since independence
felt that they were welcomed back by their relatives who were grateful for the
additional skills and support. For those who returned more frequently, ‘return did
not fulfill the fantasy of home’ (Wise 2006, p. 198). Lusia who returned regularly to
East Timor felt that the overseas Timorese, like many of the International
Organisations were viewed as ‘opportunists’; they usually return to work for the
UN ‘when it’s calm’ and ‘when there is trouble they come back’. This point is
discussed by Wise with reference to the case of Fernanda, a mestizo woman, who left
East Timor in 1975 and seems to have a ‘Western version of ‘‘Timoreseness’’ that has
remained somewhat intact during her years of exile’ (Wise 2006, p. 173).
Most people interviewed acknowledged that there were problems in the way they
could potentially be perceived. Maria, who had worked in the Timorese government
prior to arriving in Australia, described the reception she received when she returned
home:
I think [it is] because there is a lack of jobs. When they see some of us comingthere, they think we are going to take over their jobs and people there, they resentedus. Of course not my family. When I went there I didn’t feel any resentment fromanyone. As soon as I arrived they just said ‘welcome’ and when they saw myhusband too. . . everyone asked ‘are you coming to stay’ and we said ‘we could butwithout money we can’t do anything. We are common people, we have a familyhouse, that’s all we have left. . .so there’s lots of resentments because of the lack ofthe job. . . .unfortunately the government that was in power. . .didn’t do anything.
Maria continued to state that some people who returned to East Timor to ‘teach’
their family members and other Timorese new skills, could potentially be accused of
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neo-colonialism, but it all depended on how you ‘approached’ them. She suggested
that it depended on the relationship with the extended family. In her particular case
she was supporting her family financially so she felt that her contribution was
welcomed.
Ana, an interviewee who had not returned to East Timor after independence,
acknowledged the problems associated with well-qualified East Timorese returning
after a long period. When asked about how the locals perceived these returnees she
allowed the view that many Timorese were upset, but during her trip to East Timor
she had never felt that her presence was unwelcome. She did say that many returning
Timorese expressed apprehension about taking away a job that could have gone to a
local. But within the context of the Timorese situation*being colonised and then
invaded, so that skills were difficult to acquire*she felt that most locals would be
‘more than happy’ by her presence:
The people need us there, it’s all about skills and working because with me I findworking. . .if I do work on a project, it’s because I want to pass my skills to someoneelse in East Timor and I would not have the opportunity to do that without beingeducated or being trained so that’s the big difference in East Timor. . .not manypeople are skilled, not many people have had the opportunity to get an educationbecause of the political situation.
Ana also stated that many people would possibly think ‘why did you get out. . .but
they know that some of us had to get out’. When Ana returned her family was happy
that she spoke Tetum and especially pleased that she sang East Timorese songs,
because despite being born in Portugal and living in Australia she had maintained her
Timorese culture.
Theresa who lived in East Timor for most of her life before coming to Australia
after independence was critical of, but not ungrateful for the involvement of overseas
East Timorese in East Timor. She believes that many who returned upset the locals by
going as ‘foreigners’ earning international salaries. To her this represents ‘neo-
colonialism’ because Timorese-based abroad and foreigners ‘are the same’; Timorese
are less inclined to work with foreigners (malae) because they do not see any direct
benefit to be gained.
Theresa acknowledged that after 1999 the East Timorese government invited all the
Timorese to return, as everyone who was Timorese was regarded as having worked
for independence. It was only in 2001 and 2002 that the divisions arose between the
Timorese in East Timor and overseas as each claimed the importance of their
contribution to independence. Those in East Timor feel that those living abroad do
not understand how they had to struggle, while those abroad feel their contribution
was significant. While the locals were willing to accept overseas Timorese with
educational qualifications and skills they were upset if all they had to offer was
‘language ability’*knowledge of English and Portuguese. She gave the example of
one of the advisors to the government, who was a bus driver in Portugal, and she
emphatically argues that language skills alone do not suffice. She also stated that the
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current East Timorese leadership was from a generation of exiles who returned to
lead the country without completely understanding the needs and experiences of the
locals.
Challenges Associated with Returning to Visit ‘Home’
‘Return is not simply a matter of going home’, instead it is more complicated where
migrants constantly ‘negotiate transnationally rooted forms of belonging’ (De Bree
et al. 2010, p. 506). In the East Timorese context, both formal and informal
interviews revealed a tension between the expectations of the local Timorese and the
returning Timorese due to the prominent use of Portuguese and the lack of available
employment for the local Timorese. Portuguese and Tetum are the prominent
languages within the East Timorese community in Melbourne. In East Timor,
Portuguese is mainly spoken by members of the elite in the older generation who
mostly lived outside East Timor during the Indonesian occupation. After the
Indonesian invasion, Portuguese was banned and Bahasa Indonesia was instituted as
the language of communication. Portuguese is now the least spoken language in East
Timor. Its adoption as the official language has been ‘divisive’; the ruling elite pushed
for Portuguese to become the national language, even though Bahasa Indonesia was
the language most commonly used by the younger generation (Kingsbury 2006). The
‘imposition of Portuguese in the workplace and in schools’ compounded resentment
among the younger generation as most grew up speaking Indonesian (Wise 2006,
p. 179). Therefore the prominent use of Portuguese and lack of Indonesian among
the diasporic community is important in terms of how the diaspora is viewed when
they return to East Timor to work.
Employment is another contentious issue. The international workforce employed
by the UN usually includes overseas Timorese who take the best-paying jobs and have
therefore ‘come to represent the West to Timorese locals’ (Wise 2006, p. 179). Many
members of the community in Melbourne stated that they would return to East
Timor and work for different international organisations ranging from the IMF to the
UN. Most of them spoke fluent Portuguese and had the additional advantage of
speaking English. To the East Timorese this represents a new form of colonialism as
they believe that members of the diaspora return to help the UN and other Western
institutions promote technocratic governance.
There also seemed to be a conflict between those they viewed as ‘malae’ and their
own position as Timorese in East Timor. Esmeralda, a woman I spoke to informally
who was returning to East Timor to work with an international aid organisation, was
highly critical of the ‘foreigners’ going to Timor ‘with their fancy degrees’ to work
without ‘fully understanding’ the Timorese people. But she did not see herself as
such. Like others in the East Timorese diaspora based in Australia she did not
consider herself a ‘foreigner’.
Usually those returning to East Timor were active in the independence cause based
in Australia, and also financially independent. Ana makes this point when she states
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that one of the reasons she would not return to East Timor is that she is not
financially secure enough in Australia to be able to live in two countries. This point
was also reiterated by Maria, who stated that while she tries to help her extended
family in East Timor financially she cannot afford to make the trip back and forth.
For those who do return to East Timor and secure jobs with international aid
agencies, their salaries offer a lifestyle in East Timor that sets them apart from the
‘local’ population. The jobs allow them to engage in a transnational lifestyle and
travel between Australia and East Timor more frequently. They are able to support
their family in Australia while living in East Timor. The transnational migrants often
create ‘new elites: whose politics are inconsistent with those in the country of origin’
(Itzigsohn 2000, p. 1146). People in the country of origin do not want to accept the
specific ‘place’ gained by the transnational migrants.
Anderson’s view of the ‘long distance nationalist’ is someone who is ‘living in
security in the West, yet tempted to play identity politics and engage in conflicts in
his imagined national home’ (Anderson 1992 in McGregor 2009, p. 187). James
Clifford on the other hand, tends to perpetuate the ‘romantic image of the diasporic
cosmopolitan’ that extends the ‘democratic space’ and supersedes all ‘categorical
boundaries and essentialisms’ (Clifford 1997 in McGregor 2009, p. 187). McGregor is
critical of both these views. She argues that Anderson’s view ‘overstates’ the security
experienced in countries of refuge and rejects any positive aspects to engagement with
the ‘home’ country, and Clifford’s view tends to downplay ‘factionalism’ (McGregor
2009, p. 187). McGregor instead seeks to ‘steer a middle course’ between these two
views. Her research found that the situation was more complex as many in the
Zimbabwean diaspora experienced ‘prolonged insecurity and exclusion’ in the UK
and their long distance nationalisms had been ‘bitter and fractious’ (McGregor 2009,
p. 187).
This kind of complexity is also evident in the East Timorese diaspora’s relationship
with East Timor. Many in the East Timorese community did not feel entirely
comfortable in Australia and there seemed to be a clear demarcation between the
Chinese Timorese and Indigenous/mestico Timorese. As more members of the
community returned to East Timor more regularly, the romantic ‘imaginings’ of East
Timor is also increasingly tempered by a nuanced understanding of some of the
challenges that arise from engaging with their homeland. Angela’s response was frank
when asked about how politically active people are viewed when they return to
Timor. She stated that in some areas overseas Timorese were not welcomed:
Because it’s like you are the lucky ones. . .you left Timor. . .you managed to get aneducation, you managed to get a better life and now you are coming back here takingour jobs. It’s like. . .in a sense I understand that frustration, because it isright. . ..we’ve had a much luckier life. We have had chances that they haven’t hadand now we go back- you know. . .probably helping the situation because they havebeen educated and they have had chances, but the people there are would be goinglike ‘we’ve stayed here, we fought and died and did everything and you’ve come backand we’re the ones without food still and you’re the ones with the house and a roof
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and servants still’. . .so yeah. . .you know, it’s a bit tricky, but I think I understandboth points of view. It’s not my fault that I had a chance to leave and it’s not theirfault that they had to go through that struggle, so it would be nice if we reached somesort of um. . .understanding between the people that have left and the people thathave stayed. . ..we’re called ‘foreigners’ basically when we go there. . . .
Angela also feels that the overseas Timorese contributed to East Timorese
independence just as much, but did it ‘through different means’ in a different
context. She emphasised that her life was a result of circumstance not choice. Her
parents left because her father was an activist and that if he had stayed he would have
‘ended up in prison, or dead’. She asserted that ‘anyone who is put in that situation is
going to go ‘‘yeah, if there is a chance for me to survive, I’m gonna do it. . .and if
that’s leaving my country, then yes. . ..I’ll do that too. . .’’’.
Conclusions
Since independence many East Timorese in Australia have engaged in transnational
activities, either by promoting cultural events in the community or by travelling to
East Timor to help with the ‘reconstruction’ (Wise 2004, p. 175). Regardless of how
often they return to East Timor and despite their Australian citizenship, all the
interviewees identified as ‘Timorese’; even members of the Chinese-Timorese
community identified as ‘Chinese-Timorese’ rather than Australian.
Despite working together to achieve independence, the relationship between the
Timorese community in East Timor and in Melbourne is sensitive and complex.
While the years of the independence struggle drew them together, the years since
independence have bred resentment. The Timorese in Melbourne believe their biggest
contribution since independence is to employ skills acquired in Australia to benefit
East Timor. But there are problems. Most women in the diaspora speak English,
Portuguese and Tetum, but not Indonesian, which is the language spoken by most
Timorese in East Timor. The women in the East Timorese diaspora have studied in
Australia and Portugal, and lived in three or even four countries. Most have
Australian citizenship, and some have Portuguese, and therefore EU, citizenship as
well. These women are ideally placed for employment in many of the international
organisations in East Timor while the locals are not. However, this combination of
economic and cultural capital coupled with a job at an international NGO does not
necessarily give them credibility among the Timorese counterparts. Although
Australian citizens, as an ethnic minority in Australia without significant economic
clout their influence is restricted. However, interviews with women in the community
indicated that despite their economic and cultural capital, the tension between the
local Timorese and the diaspora means that their influence in East Timor is restricted
as well.
Interviews suggest that there is a good deal of what Appadurai would call
‘prosthetic nationalism and politics by nostalgia’ involved in the diasporas’ dealings
with East Timor (1995, p. 220). Members of the community in Melbourne, despite
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living between two and often three different countries, are ‘guided by the ultimate
security that there is somewhere to return to, even if only as sustaining imaginary’
(Parker 2003, p. 166), and look to East Timor as home. Part of the problem is that by
participating in the independence struggle from Australia and engaging in ‘long
distance nationalism’ (Anderson 1998), they stretched ‘national sentiments across
vast distances, intensifying rather than interrogating them in the process’ (Parker
2003, p. 166). In the post-independence period, as more members of the diaspora
return to East Timor either to visit or to work, a diversity of perspectives has
emerged. While idealistic imaginings of East Timor still abound they are
complemented by nuanced understandings of the challenges faced on returning
‘home’.
Notes
[1] Ethics clearance for this research was obtained through the University of Melbourne Human
Research Ethics Committee and in all instances pseudonyms are used. The author wishes to
thank the women who generously agreed to be interviewed for this project. The author is
currently at the University of California, Davis.
[2] The terms ‘Chinese Timorese’ and ‘Timorese-Chinese’ were used interchangeably among the
community. While initially some would identify themselves as ‘Chinese-Timorese’ as the
conversations progressed, they would often refer to themselves as ‘Timorese-Chinese’.
[3] In Tetum, Loromonu means sunset and Lorosae means sunrise. However in the context of the
2006 unrest, it was used to refer to those from the west and east of East Timor. It is also
referred to as ‘kaladi’ and ‘firaku’ (although not often by the media).
[4] The Immigration Restriction Act 1901, also known as the White Australia policy was intended
to keep Australia a ‘white nation’ and therefore excluded everyone who was not ‘white’, which
included the indigenous East Timorese.
[5] From interviews with the Chinese Community
[6] This treaty signed in 1989 came into force in 1991 and was a ‘provisional solution to the
question’ of how to divide the petroleum resources of the Timor Sea (Askland 2005, p. 68). It
has been replaced by the Timor Sea Treaty of 2003.
[7] Wise (2002, 2003, 2006) concentrates on the 1970s and 1980s arrivals as they form the ‘lion’s
share of the community’ (Wise 2006, p. 49). For an in-depth study on the 1990s arrivals see
Fiona Crockford 2007).
[8] Multiculturalism issues in the Australian context are discussed by Perrera (2000) and Hage
(1998). Crockford presents an interesting discussion about the intercultural relations in the
Timorese community (Crockford 2007, pp. 248�9)
[9] On 16 October 1975, a group of five Australian journalists, based in Balibo, East Timor were
killed during Indonesian raids.
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