Reweaving culture needs peace

 

In Toronto now, jet-lagged and back at work, I'm still thinking about some facets of our trip.

On one of the hotter afternoons in East Timor, our group participated in a meeting held in a community near Dili, where elected district and sub-district leaders spoke to us of their hopes and dreams, and their needs. Although not our role to fulfill those needs, they all did a good job of representing their communities. Interestingly, one of the youth representatives said clearly that what the youth most wanted was a space in which to learn and practice music, visual art and dance. It always makes me stop and think to hear this clear need expressed by youth. And why not? Isn't culture what gives all our lives meaning and depth?

I saw clearly in Java  how much agriculture both is and affects culture, like culture passed from generation to generation. When the links are broken, as by the Green Revolution, it takes time and effort to recover the culture. In Indonesia's case the "traditional wisdom" movement was there to draw on, but not all cultures have developed resistance to such a high art.

Weavings on Parliamentary walls

In East Timor we experienced a culture that was literally weaving its own traditions into the fabric of the new nation. Tais, the traditional woven clothing from all parts of East Timor are featured on the Parliamentary walls.

We were also treated to a cultural night by the partners; the women in their beautiful woven thais, with golden paper headbands and armbands, all highly symbolic, danced and drummed and sang for us. We sang too, for them. Our reflection was that culture can only thrive in times of peace, and that we wish long-lasting peace for East Timor.

We met with the Alola Foundation, which preserves and develops the culture of weaving, as well as furthering the rights and development of Timorese women.

Later, we were lucky enough to meet women weavers in the Embera community we visited. Here are some of their designs:

Everywhere we went in Timor, we were greeted with Tais, some with our names, either ceremonially draped around our shoulders in greeting, or draping our meeting tables.