From 1702 to 1975, Timor-Leste was a colony of Portugal, known as Portuguese Timor. A declaration of independence in 1975 as Portugal “decolonised” was followed, however, by occupation and annexation by Indonesia, and then by the U.N. administration. Timor-Leste only regained its independence from Indonesia in 2002.

Ultimately, last year’s parliamentary elections produced no clear winner, and voters return again to the polls this year.

Still, in a world of so much cynicism and with democracy under challenge in many nations, I found much hope in this young, predominantly Catholic nation of some 1.2 million people. Over 90 per cent of the population is Roman Catholic. Some 70 per cent of Timor-Leste’s citizens are below the age of 30. The two official languages are Portuguese and Tetum, with English and Indonesian also sometimes used.

For me, Timor-Leste remains a case study in the potential of everyday citizens to take charge of and transform their own lives when given the chance to do so. The people I met and the enthusiasm I witnessed at polling stations left me inspired.

My election day began before dawn, to the sound of roosters, in the small mountain town of Ainaro. The day before I had journeyed here from the coastal capital city of Dili via a two-lane road, stopping for a simple lunch of chicken and rice at Maubisse, a historic town in the hills about 45 miles into my trip.

I would be staying in a small Ainaro guesthouse a short walk from a beautiful church dating to the years of Portuguese rule. The town and the surrounding Ainaro administrative district are home to some 66,000 people.

Hundreds of international and domestic election observers at the invitation of the Timor-Leste government were here observing polls in all of the nation’s 13 districts. My observer mission with the International Republican Institute—a non-partisan Washington non-governmental organisation focused on advancing democracy—included representatives from Australia and the United States.

In travelling the mountainous Ainaro district, some four to five hours’ drive from Dili, I soon discovered it to be a very special place and one that had played an outsized role in the nation’s history. During WWII, Ainaro was where imperial Japan’s path to conquer this region came to an end. And here, during the Indonesian occupation of Timor-Leste, the mountains sheltered a guerilla resistance army directed in part by Xanana Gusmao, who would go on to become Timor-Leste’s first president.

The images I saw across Ainaro, however, were festive and peaceful. Voters waited at polls opening at 7 a.m. And until polls closed that early afternoon, people came by foot, motorbike, and bus or truck to cast their votes. Each voter dipped an index finger into a well of indelible ink to help ensure no one voted twice. That day, I would meet many a proud voter who offered up an indelibly-inked finger, and a smile, to show that he or she had voted. 

As with all governments—democratically elected or not—a key challenge will now be delivering on people’s hopes. Running an election can be the easy part, in contrast to forming a government and then running a nation.

Poverty remains high as does youth unemployment in Timor-Leste. Yet, notable strides have been made in this last decade to improve living conditions and increase economic opportunities. Accession into the Association of Southeast Asian Nations, or ASEAN, is also deserved and would help lock in progress.

The city of Dili is far different than the one I first visited a decade back. I come across numerous signs of a slowly emerging tourism industry, including new restaurants and cafés—coffee is an important export after main revenue earners, oil and gas—scuba diving shops, and hotels.

I stayed at the Novo Turismo Resort & Spa in Dili—a hotel that features seaside dining as well as a beautiful swimming pool looked over by a giant sculpture of a friendly-looking, seated crocodile. That’s only fitting as Timorese legend has it that an ageing saltwater crocodile transformed into the island of Timor as part of a debt repayment to a young boy who had helped the crocodile when it was sick.

A shopping mall has opened in the centre of town. And growing numbers of hotel boutiques and streetside stalls have joined the Tais Market in selling beautiful woven textiles and handmade basketry. A short-drive away is the starting point of a morning hike to the landmark Cristo Rei of Dili—Christ the King of Dili—an 88-feet-tall statue of Jesus atop a globe facing out to the ocean. En route are tree-lined beaches featuring simple amenities and food. In the other direction lies the town centre.

I take a short afternoon stroll, and a group of young people in traditional Timorese outfits greet me. “A selfie?” Sure, why not! They were there to perform at an event for the Darwin Dili Yacht Rally—an annual July event that offers recreational boat owners the chance to participate in an organised visit to Timor-Leste.

Earlier, before making the long road trip back to the capital from Ainaro on the day after Election Day, I had stopped in the old Portuguese church there and caught the start of Sunday service. Much was in the local language, but every now and then I heard the word, “Alleluia,” sung out.

Praise and celebration are certainly in order. I felt spirit and energy too in a traditional Sunday market that I stopped at—full of fruits, vegetables, and smiles—after leaving this first church service since election day.

There may well be challenging times ahead in this young nation, but on my own road trip observing the country’s journey along that bumpy road to democracy I also found great hope for, and faith in, Timor-Leste’s future.

Photos: Curtis Chin

This story was originally published in Philippine Tatler Traveller (Volume 13), available in all newsstands and book stores, and downloadable on Magzter, Zinio, and PressReader.