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in animistic beliefs while silently to one side stood a number of Catholic graves as of watching sentinel. It was a perfect metaphor for what had been happening during our visit, two worlds, side by side, coming together with similar beliefs in community and humanity. The time had past far too quickly as we had been drawn away to another meeting of a community seemingly different yet connected heavily with this one.
Anas, our guide led us away to a home that he had barely known during his years of youth, the consequences of Indonesia occupation during a time of turmoil for the Timorese people.
Welcomed by an attractive family, we had been introduced to Felizarda Mendonca, Anas’ sister, one of six. His mother Maria had also welcomed us, a heart wrenching experience that left us feeling deflated and yet warmed.
Through the orders of the Indonesians, Anas’ father had been brutally murdered during what became known as the Timorese Genocide, his father one of three hundred thousand people slaughtered for nothing more than their birth right.
In an act of deviance Anas, as a two-year-old, had been spirited away by the local people who knew that
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