Free The Timor Man by Kerry B. Collison Page B

before militant religious sects eventually gained a foothold in the developed nations.
    The road to the school travelled directly through the rich rice fields, the black tar macadam raised several metres above the millions of individually owned sawah under cultivation, permitting traffic to pass unhindered. Each plot, some almost unworkably small, would have been farmed by the same family over and over for many generations. Ownership would have passed from father to son throughout the centuries, the unwritten titles rarely questioned or disputed. Often these fields remained as the only real security that these betel nut chewing peasants could really rely upon.
    Of course, the occasional dispute would arise as to just how much creepage had taken place when the padi fields were worked for it was relatively simple to enlarge ones area by widening the mud retaining walls over a few seasons. The gradual change to the miniature dam wall would go unnoticed as a few centimetres were added here and there until finally, after some years had passed, the plots size could differ in area considerably. If not kept in check, a farmer could conceivably lose land the size of a small suburban front yard over a period of ten or fifteen years.
    Coconut groves separated these magnificent green fields from the roads. Flowers grew alongside the pathways and Hibiscus hedges were planted between the small thatched-roof dwellings. The rich volcanic soil provided food for all, including the slow-moving long-horned water buffalo. They were used to till the heavy black mud, producing a bed of fertile ground waiting to be seeded to commence the growing cycle once again. Clumps of banana trees grew in isolated spots throughout the sawah, giving shade for the farmers during the heat of the day. During the wet season, children would casually snap a large banana leaf away from its tree and use the branch as protection from the rainy squalls. To the villagers, the banana and coconut trees were symbolic of protection such as a roof may give, although one would be foolish to sit under the latter without first examining the position of the nuts. Young maidens, when courting, would often say to their lover, ‘ Please don’t use me like a banana leaf, to be thrown away casually when its use is no longer needed! ’ But often, even these life giving trees threaten man’s handiwork. Overhead telephone and power lines, hanging like huge strands of black spaghetti, were often caught up in the trees or tangled between the supporting poles, further exacerbating the already hopeless state of the power and telephone systems.
    Traffic was normally light during the early mornings — not that country town congestion was of any great consequence. Most vehicles were registered to the government offices or military and, although fuel was merely five cents a gallon, mechanical transport was used only when really necessary. Kerosene was even more important, for this was the fuel of the nation. The peasants were dependent on this low grade product for some of their cooking and most of their lighting. Charcoal was, of course, more commonly used in the villages; however the townspeople were developing a preference for the new fuel in their more modern kitchens. The country in general did not appreciate that this essential item on the basic commodities list was heavily subsidized as was most fuel, by the government, although not to the same extent.
    These, and other economic problems which continued to plague the Republic, were of little concern to the young students as they peddled their way to their respective schools. They cruised together, chatting, discussing what may have been considered banal nonsense to others but, to them, represented essential dialogue. Their lives were isolated from the faster moving city communities.
    There was no television in the village. Some listened to radios, but the majority read their books, read them over and over again until the