Clean and green slowly replaces debris of war

DILI - The first surprise is the airport.

Towering over a mix of military transports, giant Russian helicopters on charter to the United Nations and a clutch of light civilian aircraft is an Air Kampuchea DC10, running the refugee shuttle from Kupang in West Timor.

Just short of three months ago, as Interfet troops poured in, the traffic was exclusively military, each landing covered by a cordon of troops and machinegun pits.

The ground was churned into great clouds of dust by heavy aircraft and equipment, the lawns of the terminal were strewn with discarded ammunition clips, garbage and the wreckage of militia destruction. The terminal was an almost toxic mix of filth and rubble.

Now the terminal is spotless, organised and even providing cold drinks and confectionery from a shop operated by the Royal Australian Air Force which, according to one of its staff, "makes a bucketful" for nearby St Peter's Orphanage.

In the main hall travel agents are at work: you know civilisation has arrived when Harvey World Travel sets up shop.

On the road into town there is another indication that life is returning to the stricken capital of East Timor - Toyota is transforming a militia-scarred building into a new showroom.

There is likely to be a lot of business.

Since people began flooding back to Dili the exclusive use of its roads by Army convoys and armoured cars has given way to a never-ending stream of tiny trucks, battered "tacksis" (taxis), small cars and motorcycles that appeared mysteriously with them.

No one is really sure where they were hidden during the time Dili was a ghost town.

Now it is opening for business.

While other centres have yet to match the pace at which the capital is recovering, the main roads into town are lined with stalls selling anything from sandals and soap to fruit and vegetables - now being cultivated in the previously deserted terraces in the hills above the city.

At regular intervals are makeshift petrol stations: small stands laden with two-litre plastic bottles and jerrycans filled with "bensin."

The streets of Dili, and the empty shells that still constitute most of the commercial centre, have been washed of the acrid smell of war by a monsoon that has also covered many scars with a lush green.

Food-for-work programmes have cleaned away the mountains of rubbish and debris, and blue tarpaulins provided by the UN High Commissioner for Human Rights have allowed many to return to their homes.

Time, familiarity and the realities of what remains a harsh life with a hard future have modified the smiles, joy and handshaking that so touched Interfet soldiers when they first arrived.

Spontaneous grins and greetings are less common, but there remains a remarkable resilience and a determination to rebuild.

There are poignant reminders of the endemic poverty of this country.

At a tip to the west of the city, scavengers pick through waste dumped daily by peacekeepers and aid agencies.

But the children have not changed: as our Army four-wheel-drive passes, the kids yell out, "Hey, Kiwi," and one performs an impromptu haka.

The market, rebuilt by Australian Army engineers, is thriving.

In the streets radiating from it are the first bars and restaurants, hand-painted "cold beer" signs competing with hoardings advertising Bintang Baru beer.

Western businesses are moving in: more than 20 from the Northern Territory, according to reports.

Among them is Darwin entrepreneur Wayne Thomas, who established a consortium to set up a hotel for 200 guests on former Indonesian-owned land on the road in from the airport.

The venture illustrates the problems of a country left without laws or government.

Accused of exploiting low-paid workers and the absence of tax, Thomas has now been ordered by the UN Transitional Administration (Untaet) to move from the land by tomorrow, under an agreement in which it inherited Indonesian state-owned property.

There are also allegations that businessmen have brought prostitution with them.

Untaet is now trying to establish legal, judicial and administrative systems, training and working in parallel with the East Timorese who will take control of their country in three years.

This initial mix blends established UN systems with Indonesian procedures - "You can't break entirely with Indonesia after 25 years," says one aid worker - and the complete body of Northern Territory law offered by Darwin as a framework.

Lawyers and prosecutors are being trained in Dili and Australia.

On the streets, trainee traffic wardens in fluorescent red vests are signs that order is returning.

But building a new nation remains a long and difficult process.