Fiume Tevere

I think people at my book club must secretly groan when they see me there, because I'm always bringing along cheery histories of genocide and international wrongdoing instead of, say, the latest Margaret Atwood. Having read Philip Gourevitch and Alison des Forges earlier this year, I'm looking forward to eventually getting started on Gerard Prunier's epic Africa's World War: Congo, the Rwandan Genocide, and the Making of a Continental Catastrophe. (I nearly offered Hotel Rwanda in Yuletide this year, but was too afraid of what prompt I might get. Besides, what I'm really interested in is the woefully underreported story of Captain Mbaye Diagne, the Senagalese UNAMIR military observer who saved a huge number of civilians -- in defiance of the UNAMIR mandate -- before being killed by a RPF mortar.)

But at the moment I'm currently absolutely absorbed in Jane Mayer's The Dark Side: The Inside Story of How the War on Terror Turned into a War on American Ideals. I have a lot of time for Mayer, who writes for the New Yorker (you can find her reporting on the War on Terror here). Like Gourevitch's The Ballad of Abu Ghraib (known in Australia as 'Standard Operating Procedure'), it deals with the US government's practice of illegally rendering, detaining and torturing terror suspects -- and the top-down policies that prompted and supported these activities. Whereas Gourevitch looked at how these policies affected the low-level soldiers asked to implement them, Mayer looks in detail at the Bush Administration's politically-driven development of top-level policy. It is a stunning book: thorough, well-researched and gripping like a political thriller. I can't recommend it enough.

( tl;dr )

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I have an invite, if anyone wants one -- comment with your email, please! Claimed!

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Dear Yuletide Writer,

The best way of making me happy is to find a story that you love, and then just write it. We already share a tiny (or, ahem, possibly medium-sized) fandom; to me, that's enough of a gift.

( That said, if you're interested in optional details... )

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So, do you remember how I posted that the USS Bonhomme Richard came to town? And you remember how I jokingly said,

What are the chances, do you reckon, that Brad Colbert or any other GK marine is out there right now?

Well, hell. minzky has dug up photos of Brad Colbert and the First Recon Battalion Marines doing their pre-deployment training with the 11th MEU. The MEU that is on the fucking USS BHR.

Yep. Brad Colbert was chilling out within eye distance of my house -- hell, for all I know he came and chilled out at the fucking bar next to my house -- and I DID NOT KNOW.

(Yeah, yeah, even if I'd seen him on the street I would've totally ignored him -- I mean, what the hell would I say? -- but that's not the point!)

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I handed in my resignation on Friday, it's a long weekend, and I'm sitting outside on a bright blowy day just enjoying being surrounded by the mad rattle of leaves and dancing hibiscuses and glimpses of whitecaps out on the water. It reminds me of Australia, actually: the clarity of the light and colours and the feeling of having one's head emptied out and filled up by the sounds of a lively natural landscape.

So, you know, life is pretty good right now.

Here are some other things currently adding to my cheer:

1. No-knead bread. It actually works! Fancy elastic bread with big holes in it, perfect for toasting, and probably the best (and least stressful) bread that's ever come out of my kitchen. But the recipe calls for instant yeast, so if you're using normal dry yeast then use at least a teaspoon (I used a tablespoon, but that was probably paranoia-induced overkill) and activate it in water beforehand.

2. White Collar. After an initial period of resistance I finally caved and watched the first two episodes, and it's just delightful eye-candy fun. Although I was disappointed that ( spoiler )

3. Mooncups. I first heard about these little gizmos right here on my flist, but it never occurred to me to use one until I moved here. The thing about Dili is that there's no regular rubbish disposal mechanism; what you do is dump your rubbish in a concrete receptacle on your street, where it's progressively reduced by ragpickers, pigs, dogs, chickens and eventually the government sanitation crew, who cart the remnants to a rubbish dump at the top of a hill (which then promptly washes down into the sea, where it's trapped inside the reef until an unusually high tide). You can probably tell where I'm going with this, but-- yeah, one of the most common sights in Dili is one of those shifty yellow dogs trotting along with something in its mouth: a used nappy or sanitary pad, which it then half-eats and leaves by the side of the road. You think the idea of a silicon menstrual cup is gross? Try accidentally stepping on someone else's sanitary pad and tell me that. Anyway-- I was raised to think tampons are gross and unnatural (I think it's an Asian-mother thing, since women in Indonesia and Timor think the same), so if I can adapt to the weirdness of an insert-y type thing, so can you. PS: CHANGED MY LIFE.

4. Yuletide! I'm surprised Generation Kill made it in, to be honest-- I feel like we're almost a mid-sized fandom now. I think this year I'm going to focus on the truly eeny fandoms-- i.e. not GK or SCC, but we'll see.

Separately-- I'm kind of idly contemplating remixing 'Sixteen Days' to make it original fiction, sort of as a side project for next year. It may not be the book I ever thought I'd write, but I figure if I wait for the Great Australian Novel I may be waiting a while-- and if I already have half a book then why the hell not, you know? The thought of the research is making my head spin, though. Handwaving is all very well and good in fandom, but-- omg, characters from Senegal and Algeria and Bangladesh and historical fiction, WHYYY.

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I haven't felt much like writing recently, having instead fallen into a weird state of frantic knowledge absorption-- possibly to make up for the six months earlier this year when the only things I read had to do with East Timor, the US military and/or Iraq.

I always like taking a look at what other people are reading, so here's a few I'm working my way through at the moment:

'Democracy Kills: What's So Good About Having the Vote?', Humphrey Hawksley (2009)

I picked this up in error, thinking it was Paul Collier's 'Wars, Guns and Votes: Democracy in Dangerous Places'. So not only do I have the wrong book, I have a terrible book. It's littered with typos and comes across as rushed, superficial and poorly fact-checked (e.g. 'Bin Mohamad' instead of 'Mahathir'. Megawati didn't succeed Suharto; there were two intervening Presidents. East Timor didn't win its independence in a 'fairly bloodless' manner, supervised by the Australian military. The EU was unable to intervene in Bosnia in 1992 because the EU formed in 1993. And so on.) Hawksley is a senior BBC correspondent who takes a whirlwind tour around the globe, taking a look at a number of countries with different systems of government. Each country gets an overly-coloured anecdotal account of his meeting with one or two political figures and a person on the street. It's a strange format for making any kind of in-depth argument, and you can't really even tell what his argument is until the conclusion, where he wisely informs you that the key to successful democracy is strong institutions. Thanks, genius. (Although East Timor could take a tip.)

'The Race Card: How Bluffing About Bias Makes Race Relations Worse', Richard Thompson Ford (2008)

Ford argues that with legal discrimination against black Americans overturned by the civil rights movement, the antiracism effort has had to start addressing more nuanced forms of bias (as opposed to the outright, legally-sanctioned bigotry of the Jim Crow era). Where there's discrimination these days, there are often many factors at play -- including, but not limited to, racism and inherited racist structures. To make the blanket accusation that racism is the pure cause of certain cases of discrimination is to ignore the other factors, and the 'cry wolf' effect can harm attitudes towards clear-cut cases of bigotry. Ford has a humorous, very engaging style and convincing arguments. I'm looking forward to reading the rest of the book, which also looks at the problems with 'racism by analogy' (other discriminated-against groups using the language of the civil rights movement) and the difficulties in defining discrimination.

'The Idea of Justice', Amartya Sen (2009)

I've liked some of Sen's less technical works, but this one makes me feel like I'd have benefited from Jurisprudence 101 before tackling it. Sen argues that focusing on what constitutes 'perfectly just institutions' (Rawls, etc) isn't of much help to us in the real world, where we're trying to reduce injustice. Instead, he focuses on how we might think about justice in the context of people's real behaviours and as implemented by real institutions, and argues for the primacy of reason in determining what is just. I'm liking the way he draws on non-Western legal philosophy, such as his exploration of the Sanskrit concepts niti (specific rules and behaviours) and nyaya (the overall system of justice).

'Death of a Red Heroine', Qiu Xiaolong (2000)

This must be the first novel I've opened in months. I found the author while googling Liz Williams' 'Inspector Chen' series, as Qiu's protagonist is also a (Chief) Inspector Chen (Cao). Qiu writes in English and there's a certain element of China 101 in the way he describes things for the Western audience, but he has a vivid style with a nice flow and plenty of classical poetry references. This is the first in a series of murder mysteries set in Shanghai, and it contains enough of the seamy side of domestic politics that you can see why Qiu wrote it in the US.

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YES. THIS.

I've only seen the first episode, but it was so good it made me cry. For all I cringe at the racism and police brutality on The Wire, this really hit it home. This is Australia all right, all the ugly racism that we like to pretend doesn't happen here.

Julia Gillard, you watching this?

I think I may have to have this as a Yuletide fandom, if I can get my hands on the rest of the episodes. Australia peeps, it's available on DVD already, yes?

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I just don't think an American president, at this point in time, should be getting a peace prize -- even if the intent of the giving is clearly a rejection of the previous president and his policies.

Am I being too cranky? I admit I'm in the midst of a severe Fifth Element moment -- you know, when Milla reads up on history and loses all faith in humanity. I've been using this holiday to catch up on my foreign policy reading, and Jesus fucking Christ. My reading pile consists of a book on the Khmer Rouge, two books on the UN and its missions in the 90s, a book on Bosnia, one on Gaza, and one on Iraq. I already hated the phrase 'in the national interest' with a passion, but the unforgiveable shit some countries do to entire other peoples...

I think I need a walk and some chocolate cake.

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It's... not funny, but I guess apt in a purely coincidental way, that the first thing you see when you walk into Phnom Penh's Tuol Sleng Genocide Museum is not the buildings themselves, but a beautiful lawn courtyard filled with frangipani trees. In Indonesian, the word for frangipani is bunga kamboja, or 'Cambodian flower', and according to Muslim belief they're associated with graveyards and haunting spirits. Back in Australia I always used to like frangipani, but now they give me shivers.

Another thing I noticed about the museum was again perhaps coincidental. Or maybe not. Seems Cambodians were tortured by having water poured onto their faces from watering cans, and suspended by their arms which had been bound behind their backs.

Ringing any bells?

If you haven't read them, I can highly recommend the ICRC's report on the CIA's illegal detention program (search through the New York Review of Books), Philip Gourevitch's 'Standard Operating Procedure', and 'Ghost Plane' by Stephen Grey. If ever you lose sight of the reality of the war due to over-enthusiasm in Generation Kill (which is easy to do, and I've done it myself), they're a good stark reminder.

More from Cambodia later, when I have a full-sized keyboard!

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Surely I'm not the only person who sees the classification NOFORN and immediately thinks 'no fornication'. Right?

Right?

(Every single time.)

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Happy Idul Fitri! I figure I've done my Eid duty with Sixteen Days, which had a Muslim cast of thousands (okay, six), so here is something entirely unrelated.

Title: Real
Pairing: Brad/Nate
Length: 3500
Notes: An overgrown comment fic for my MRE guinea pig kaneko, who wanted Brad going to visiting Harvard.
Summary: He's cracking open his life like a self-storage unit that hasn't seen the light of day in years.


( Real )

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Here's the question: are you willing to put mystery preservative-filled chunked meat in your mouth as research for a story? Even if you're vegetarian?



Tonight's meal begins with a health-conscious beef soup, followed by your choice of beef teriyaki or a delicious salmon and pasta mornay, served on a bed of freeze-dried rice. For dessert, a platter of fruit*, cheese* and crackers, and either coffee or tea (sweetened the way you like it) with mints and a range of gourmet chocolates.

MMMMM.

*All items marked with an asterisk are available in a can for optimal taste and freshness!

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I find myself in possession of a regional plane ticket that has to be used in the next month. The Boy doesn't have enough leave to accompany, so I'll be travelling solo for a touristy sort of adventure holiday.

So! A poll. I've already been to Singapore, Malaysia, Thailand, Hong Kong and Macau, but I can be persuaded to go back to any of those. Currently I'm leaning towards Cambodia, but I'm ready to be convinced of the awesomeness of, er, Guam!



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This weekend is Timor-Leste's 10th Anniversary of the Popular Consultation for Independence. Happy anniversary, Timor-Leste, and here's to hoping the next ten are better than the first.

Title: Sixteen Days in September
Pairing: Ensemble, Brad/Nate
Length: 43,500
Warning: This is a war story, and as such contains some violence, civilian deaths including children, and a non-explicit reference to sexual violence. If you're all right with canon, you should be right with this.
Disclaimer: Many characters in this story are based upon those in HBO's fictionalised mini-series Generation Kill, and are not intended to represent the beliefs or actions of any real individuals.
Notes: Main notes at the end. Up front, though, I want to give heartfelt thanks to kaneko, my partner in crime on all things GK. I absolutely would never have finished this without her indefatigable cheerleading and awesome beta! And many thanks also to norah, who generously fixed my inevitable Australianisms.

Summary: When Peace Corps assigns Nate to East Timor, a tiny half-island in eastern Indonesia, he figures he'll have a lot of time to catch up on his reading. But the year is 1999, and the shock fall of military dictator Suharto is still reverberating throughout the country, triggering changes nobody ever thought possible. As East Timor moves inexorably towards freedom – or war – Nate is drawn into events that will define the future of the province forever.

Read here on Dreamwidth, where it all fits in one post!

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I only just found out about the bombings in Jakarta -- for the last couple of days we've been backpacking in western Indonesia, and yesterday we didn't see the news because we spent the whole day on the bus. The Boy's family, and about half the guests at our wedding, all returned to Jakarta last Monday, although preliminary news is that they're okay.

Fuck.

Have I mentioned recently how much I hate President Jose Ramos-Horta? Well, here's today's reason.

Today's my first day of leave, so when I got up I packed a book and rode down to the beach for breakfast. The particular spot I like is usually packed on weekends, since the shallow water makes it popular with parents, but this morning I was the only person there.

I was wheeling my bike out onto the sand when a street dog came up to me with that worried expression dogs get when they figure they need a potential handout desperately enough to risk getting a kick in the ribs -- that being the normal technique used by Timorese (and some foreigners) to rid themselves of unwanted animal attention.

Now, I'm the first to admit I'm not a huge fan of street dogs, given their habit of trying to bite my ankles when I ride my bike, but I found this one kind of sweet. The beachfront cafe I was eating at has a few pet dogs with collars, but this one was just a passing mutt: large for a stray, but limpid-eyed and docile-looking. I was contemplating patting it until my eyes involuntarily zoomed in on its mangy fur, the sight of which was pretty much enough to convince me that it wasn't such a sweet dog that I wanted to risk adding to my intestinal fauna by touching it.

Swiftly forgetting about the dog, I ate my breakfast and was just getting into my book when there was a clanking on the road behind me. I turned around to see a truck pull up with about ten overall-clad government sanitation workers in the back. Two of them jumped down, and I noticed one of them was carrying a four-foot length of thick steel pipe, which momentarily seemed like quite an odd thing for him to be holding.

( If you're distressed by accounts of animal cruelty, this may not be for you )

I was a massive ST:TOS fan from about the ages of ten to twelve. It was my very first fandom. How I quite managed to find, let alone fixate on, a sixties show starring William Shatner remains somewhat of a mystery, but it shaped my fannish personality more than I usually realise.

No surprises, I was always a Spock girl. (Half-breed, coolly logical, scientist -- go figure. Did you know my childhood aspiration was to be an astrophysicist?) I spent my last few years of primary school actually wanting to be a Vulcan. I seem to recall a certain degree of consternation from my parents about the fact their eldest offspring refused to show emotions of any kind for about the entire period of the first Gulf War. I think they thought I was borderline Asperger's or something. Well, maybe they weren't wrong; people never did become my strong suit. BUT ANYWAY.

( Nu-Trek )

Today is the seventh anniversary of the Restoration of Independence, which celebrates the handover of government from the UN Transitional Administration for East Timor (UNTAET) to the Timorese in 2002. Later this year we also have the tenth anniversary of the Referendum for Independence, on 30 August.

It's interesting to chart the changes to Dili during even the short time I've been here. Jardim, which occupies the prime location between the seaport and Dili's premier hotel, was a squalid, sewerage-filled IDP camp housing hundreds of families when I first arrived in late 2007. Just a few weeks ago the site was restored as a city park, complete with play equipment donated and installed by the Kiwi Army.


January 2008


March 2008


May 2009

Arguably, the beautification of Dili shouldn't be the government's priority. 90% of the population live in rural areas outside of the capital; most don't have access to clean water, electricity, or a market for their agricultural products. Should Dili residents really be getting new footpaths when roads to major outlying towns are impassable four months of the year?

In Dili, we have a false sense of the nation's overall progress. But it's hard to let cynicism infect the feeling of optimism there was in the city today. This morning I biked up a dry river into some of the tiny villages in the Dili foothills, which somehow feel remote even though they're perhaps a kilometre as the crow flies from the city's main thoroughfares. People were home for the holiday, hanging out on their front verandahs with their extended families, and there was none of the fear there was just a year ago when we were still under curfew following the shooting of the President.

A couple of village children, led by a feisty little girl in a pink dress, chased me along the bank of the river, yelling, "Photo! Photo!" until I stopped to oblige.

Happy Restoration of Independence Day, kids.


Augustino (front, centre) and other kids from Camea village

There are three book exchanges in Dili. All are in a pretty sorry state, because desperate readers (like me) have gone through and picked out all the good items, exchanging them for things like the photocopied Charles Dickens we bought at the airport in Vietnam in 1995. After about a year, the only books left in circulation are a sad flotsam of 1980s murder mysteries, Tom Clancy and fantasy novels with the covers ripped off.

But just the other week, the hotel next to my house opened a book exchange. And it is amazing. Not just for the fact it has non-fiction, or that most of the books look new. Observe this photo and tell me the reason why I started laughing to myself in a manner that made the receptionist edge away nervously:



THAT'S RIGHT. After all my trials and tribulations with Amazon, Nate Fick has made it to the Dili book exchange next to my house.

The sheer improbability of this is hard to encapsulate. It's Heart of Gold improbable. It's like walking into the Simpson Desert and finding an esky by the side of the road that contains a still-frozen pint of Ben&Jerry's Chunky Monkey.

Tonight, as I was walking home at dusk, I saw a dog giving another dog a blowjob. A light brown adult dog lying on its forepaws in the dirt, lapping tenderly -- thoughtfully -- between the hind legs of the black male dog standing in front of it.

... Yeah, I don't even know.