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row of makeshift stalls cashing in on the tourist dollar. 

And their most prominent display? A new range of T-shirts commemorating the 
tragedy. 

One says in large, bold lettering: "Bali Loves Peace". It is difficult not to 
smile at "Osama Don't Surf", proof that black humour has survived to fight 
another conflict. But it is also difficult not to be sickened by a T-shirt 
showing sticks of dynamite on a map of Bali under the word "Boom". 

This is commerce at its most base, yet strangely symbolic. In a tropical 
paradise where the worst vice is to rip-off and reproduce every designer brand 
imaginable, how else to deal with the unthinkable? 

While most Balinese give the impression they would happily sell their 
grandmother for the slightest financial gain, they also appear utterly 
incapable of harming a fly. 

Little wonder that nobody can begin to make sense of why terrorists chose the 
Island of the Gods for the worst atrocity since September 11. 

And from the subsequent confusion and bewilderment comes denial: "There won't 
be another bomb," is a stock response. "Bali is safe." 

Everyone vividly recalls the awful night five months ago when the foreigners 
fled en masse as the Sari Club and Paddy's Bar burned. 

The welcoming smiles have since returned, but the tourists have not. Hotels, 
restaurants, bars and shops have closed, with staff returning to their 
villages. 

The many businesses that remain open are populated by bored staff working half-
time for half wages, staring blankly into space, fretting for their futures. 

Taxis circle endlessly, hooting their horns at pedestrians walking in the 
opposite direction, praying for a fare. 

The plight of one driver, Gunawan, illustrates the struggle for survival. 

In the good times a 10-hour shift brought in up to 200,000 rupiah ($40), of 
which he took 30 per cent plus a bonus of 15,000 rupiah. 

"Now I work from seven in the morning until 11 at night and I'm lucky if I 
bring in half that. That means 30,000 rupiah for me and no bonus. It's 
terrible." 

To make matters worse, the post-bomb downturn cost Gunawan's wife her 600,000 
rupiah a month job as a waitress at a five-star hotel. 

"We have a 2-year-old girl and it's very difficult to live," he says. "We pray 
that things get better." 

For young Australian partygoers, surfers or touring sports teams, Kuta's sun-
drenched hedonism used to be an annual pilgrimage, a right of passage. 

The main thoroughfare was so full of life you had to walk on the street, 
dodging the cars and motorbikes. 

Now the only thing you have to dodge are the street hawkers desperately 
pestering the few tourists. 

They stop chasing you at what has become a kind of no-man's land - the 
flattened wasteland on either side of a 50m stretch of road that was devastated 
by the bombings. 

Round the corner, the once-packed Poppies Lane II is a shadow of its former 
self. 

Waiter Anthony is busy trying to persuade people to come into his restaurant, 
Taman Sari, which is about 150m from the Sari Club. 

He was just finishing work on October 12 when there were two blasts, the first 
from the bomb at Paddy's, then the much larger explosion outside the Sari. 

Like everyone else, Anthony thought it was an electrical explosion. But a few 
minutes later burned and bloodied survivors, some them naked, came running down 
the lane. 

There is a small swimming pool behind the restaurant. 

"A severed arm landed just there," he says, pointing to a spot next to the 
pool. 

A few doors down at Kori Restaurant, waitress Trisna Nawati recalls farewelling 
a table of 17 people. 

"They said they were going to the Sari Club and I watched them head off in that 
direction. I think they all died." 

Kori, with its old colonial feel, was regularly booked out before October 12. 
Now part of Trisna's job involves trawling up and down Poppies II, menu in 
hand, encouraging tourists to dine. 

"When I am there three tables in the large restaurant are occupied," she says. 
Most other places are not so busy. 

On an island reliant on tourism, the bombings blasted a hole in the economy 
worth billions of dollars. 

Bali accounts for 40 per cent of Indonesia's US$5 billion ($8.9 billion) 
tourism revenues. About 2.5 million people normally visit each year, but in 
November arrivals slumped to just 35,000. 

Monthly figures have since risen to about 60,000, but the 3.4 million 
population, most of whom rely on tourism for their livelihoods, see no signs of 
recovery. 

I am told the night life has moved from Kuta to Seminyak, a few kilometres 
along Legian St. 

The Saturday evening I am in Seminyak feels like a house party where the host 
is sitting around nervously looking at his watch, wondering what has happened 
to his pals. 

It is the same story in another once-popular resort, Sanur, to the south-east 
of the capital, Denpasar. Behind the beach is a small bazaar that has 
traditionally been a hive of colour and activity. 

Today it is empty, and I find myself besieged by women begging me to buy 
something from their stalls. 

I buy two sarongs from Wayan Mari but do not have 70,000 rupiah on me to pay 
for them. 

As I tell her I will return later with the money, tears well up in her eyes. 
She is devastated that she may lose the sale, her first in four days. 

"Our business is so bad," she says. "All we can hope for is that the tourists 
come back. Please tell your friends to come to Bali." 

Even Bali's playground of the rich, the exclusive resort of Nusa Dua, has 
become a playground of the few. 

Strolling along a pristine golden beach in front of the Grand Hyatt resort, the 
number of wealthy sunbathers can be counted on two hands. 

"Well, it's romantic, isn't it?" says Nyoman, a waiter at the Salsa Verde beach 
bar, putting an interesting spin on the deserted sands before him. 

At a time of year when 90 per cent of the hotel's rooms are usually full, 
occupancy stands at 13 per cent. 

Nyoman points to a small island a few hundred metres off the beach that the 
Hyatt uses for private parties of up to 1000 people. It has been closed since 
the blasts. 

At the Grand Mirage resort, a cashier says 87 of the 410 rooms are being used 
by 179 people. 

"They're all Asians from Japan, Taiwan and Korea," he says. "But there are very 
few Europeans and no Australians." 

Following the bombings a campaign to attract more Indonesian tourists to Bali 
was successful, but provided few crumbs of comfort. They have a fraction of the 
spending power of their Western counterparts. 

Authorities now pin their hopes on a series of promotional efforts to entice 
those Westerners, and particularly Australians, back. 

They point to demand for more flights, but a prediction that it will be 
business as usual by the year's end seems faintly ludicrous. 

Workers fear the looming US-led war against Iraq will delay any revival, and 
prove the death knell for businesses trying to stay afloat. 

Australian arrivals in Kuta are apparently back up to about 5000 a month, but 
it is more than a week before I hear the distinctive accent. 

It belongs to Dave Arnold, an engineer from Melbourne, who is on his sixth 
trip. 

"What happened was just appalling, but I've got as much chance of being taken 
out by a taxi in Toorak as a terrorist in Kuta," he says. 

"A lot of my mates weren't that impressed with me coming. It's not that they 
thought Bali was dangerous, they just reckon the place would have a really bad 
vibe." 

Arnold does not believe that is the case. Neither do I. 

Discussions run deep on the motives for the bombings. 

It is widely regarded as a broad attack by Islamic fundamentalists on the 
Western imperialists. 

Whatever the motive, Arnold echoes a widely held view. 

"If the tourists don't come back, save all these people's livelihoods and get 
Bali back to what it was, then [the bombers] have won," he says. 

The vast majority of Balinese are devout Hindus, a small blip in the world's 
largest Muslim nation. 

Wayan Nama, owner of the Treehouse Restaurant in Poppies Lane I, says Balinese 
do not believe in violence. 

"We have a very relaxed attitude and we believe in karma," he says. 

"If you do something bad it will find you later. Maybe not tomorrow, or next 
week, but it will find you." 

Yet in the angry and desperate aftermath a more basic human instinct has 
emerged: revenge. 

Nama, and most Balinese I speak to, say the bombers should get what is coming 
to them, quickly, and be sentenced to death under terrorism laws enacted after 
the bombings. 

"The Hindus love peace and cherish life," says Ketut, a barman, emphasising the 
depth of feeling. "But there is something different about Muslims. I think all 
Muslims are terrorists." 

At the blast site, a Muslim man reads the countless messages scrawled on a 
corrugated-iron wall that has become a shrine to the victims. 

He is not Balinese and is wearing a T-shirt with a "No Terrorist" sign. 

"I wear this T-shirt because it has a good message and no one wants 
terrorists," says Han, who is visiting from the city of Surabaya in East Java. 

But in a town where conspiracy theories run riot, Han holds to one of the less 
popular. 

"The guy who executed this was a Muslim but the guy who planned it, who was 
responsible, he was an actor," he says. 

"This is not the work of Muslims. It is a conspiracy against Muslims who care 
about peace." 

Meanwhile, Bali is moving on. 

Han walks past the site where Paddy's Bar used to be, now bare ground covered 
in young banana trees. 

Some say they have been planted to the ease the victims' entry into the next 
life. "I doubt it," scoffs one tourist guide. "Bananas fetch a good price." 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Indonesia names nine suspected of Manila envoy bomb
11 Mar 2003 10:57
Jakarta (Reuters) 

Indonesian police on Tuesday named nine people suspected of involvement in a 
blast outside the Philippine ambassador's home in 2000 including a top member 
of a Muslim militant group linked to last year's Bali bombings.  

Police said they believed Hambali, the former operations chief of the militant 
Jemaah Islamiah group, which has been linked by some Western and Asian 
governments to the al Qaeda network, funded the August 2000 bombing in Jakarta 
that killed two people and injured the envoy and 18 others. 

''We believe Hambali was the mastermind and provided funds for the operation,'' 
Jakarta police spokesman Prasetyo told a news conference. 

The bomb was believed to have been revenge for a Philippine army attack on 
Muslim separatist rebels in the south of that mostly Christian country, he 
said. 

Prasetyo said six of those identified on Tuesday were in police detention, five 
in Indonesia and one in the Philippines, having been taken into custody earlier 
over other incidents. Hambali is among the three who remain at large. 

Police believe Indonesian-born Hambali also financed the October 12 bombings on 
the resort island of Bali that killed 202 people, most of them foreign 
tourists. 

Two key Bali bombing suspects, Amrozi and Dulmatin, were also named as suspects 
over the blast at the ambassador's residence in central Jakarta. Amrozi is in 
police detention on the tourist island while Dulmatin's whereabouts are not 
known. 

Police said their information came from self-confessed Jemaah Islamiah member 
Fathur Rohman al-Ghozi, arrested by the Philippines last year over a series of 
bombings in Manila in December 2000. Police said he had also claimed 
involvement in the Jakarta blast. 

''There are nine suspects and the report is based on Fathur Rohman al-Ghozi's 
statement to our national police team which just arrived last week (from 
Manila),'' Prasetyo said. 

He said al-Ghozi told police Hambali ordered the bombing to seek revenge for an 
attack by the Philippines military on a Muslim rebel camp on Mindanao island in 
the southern Philippines. 

Police in Indonesia, the world's most populous Muslim country, have been 
praised for their efforts in recent months to combat terrorism and track down 
those responsible for the Bali blasts. 

Some 29 Indonesian men have been arrested over the Bali bombings. 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Asia Times Online
March 11, 2003
East Timor: Between a rock and a hard place
By Alan Boyd 

Sydney - East Timor is preparing for next year's withdrawal of United Nations 
peacekeeping troops with a diplomatic offensive aimed at confronting worsening 
security and social tensions. 

Foreign Minister Jose Ramos Horta is pursuing closer ties with the United 
States and a clutch of Asian states, most of which watched from the sidelines 
as the republic gained independence from Indonesia in 1999. But he may have 
miscalculated the depth of hostility in his war-ravaged community toward 
Washington's belligerent stance on Iraq, and appears equally unlikely to 
attract much sympathy from Timor's wary neighbors. 

In his most divisive initiative since taking office, the former guerrilla 
leader offered Timor's support to the anti-Iraqi alliance in a column carried 
by the New York Times and some Asian newspapers in late February. 

Horta wrote emotionally of the two decades of tyranny under Indonesian rule 
that cost the lives of thousands of Timorese, including nine of his own 
immediate family. 

"Yet I also remember the desperation and anger I felt when the rest of the 
world chose to ignore the tragedy that was drowning my people. We begged a 
foreign power to free us from oppression, by force if necessary," he wrote, in 
a plea for collective intervention in Iraq. "I know that differences of opinion 
and public debate over issues like war and peace are vital. But if the anti-war 
movement dissuades the United States and its allies from going to war with 
Iraq, it will have contributed to the peace of the dead." 

The column caused consternation among peace activists in Timor, with several 
hundred marching through the capital, Dili, and picketing the US, Australian 
and British embassies. Similar rallies against the war were held in Western 
European capitals. At issue was Horta's moral mandate to barter the much-
cherished neutrality of Timor for cheap diplomatic points. And disturbing 
questions were also raised over the veracity of some of his claims. 

East Timor Action Network, a US-based group of Timor sympathizers, quickly 
disputed the historic parallels that Horta had drawn between Iraq and his own 
country's torturous journey. 

"Historical records and statements available to us indicate the East Timorese 
did not ask for violent intervention to end the brutal ... Indonesian military 
occupation of their country," the network noted. "Far from calling for other 
countries to bomb Jakarta, the people of East Timor asked for United Nations 
peacekeepers. East Timor is free today because its people were courageous and 
far-sighted enough to emphasize non-violent means of struggle." 

Timor has no troops to offer Washington, and negligible diplomatic influence. 
Horta would have been well aware of the depth of anti-war feeling on an island 
that is surrounded by secessionist and religious stresses. But he also knew 
that Dili would need friends badly when the time came for the republic to stand 
alone and meet its own security challenges from infiltrating militias and 
mounting social tensions. 

United Nations peacekeepers are scheduled to pull out in June next year, ending 
a four-year transitional period during which Timor's small defense force has 
been trained to safeguard its own borders. 

Militias operating from Indonesia's western half of the island are already 
making a comeback, raising fears of a recurrence of the vicious attacks on 
civilians that accompanied a nationwide vote on independence in 1999. 

Seven people were killed in January when armed gangs raided the border district 
of Atsabe. Last month, gunmen attacked a bus and truck in nearby Bononaro, 
killing a further two people. It is not yet clear whether the militias are 
backed by Indonesia. However, Fijian troops found 1,000 rounds of ammunition 
and weapons of a type in use with Indonesia's military when they raided a 
jungle camp after the Bononaro raids. 

In response, UN Secretary General Kofi Annan asked the Security Council to 
consider delaying the final phased withdrawal of the 4,000 international troops 
and their support team of 2,300. However, some diplomats doubt that enough cash 
will be found to keep the operation going, as commitments are already down to 
about $200 million a year, only a third of the budget awarded to the UN 
transitory authority that administered Timor in 1999-2000. 

While there are concerns over the security implications of a UN pullout, it 
will also have a substantial economic and social impact in a nation with 70 
percent unemployment and few viable industries. Aid handouts, from the UN and 
private agencies that feed off its work, account for more than 80 percent of 
economic activity in a nation that has a per capita annual income of about 
US$480, making it Asia's poorest country. 

The government expects to record a budget deficit of $60 million this year, 
double the 2002 shortfall, and will have few income sources until 2006, when it 
should receive the first royalties from oil and gas production in the Timor 
Sea. 

Under an agreement ratified with Australia last week, Timor will share the 
anticipated $60 billion to $70 billion windfall from oilfields in the contested 
marine boundary between the two countries. However, it will take some time for 
the benefits to flow through. Because of tough bargaining by Australia, Timor 
will initially get only about $15 billion spread over 20 years from the Bayu-
Undan field. 

Prospects are brighter for the neighboring Greater Sunrise field, which is 
expected to reap at least $40 billion. But most of the field lies in Australian 
waters, and Canberra refuses to negotiate on its sovereignty; Timor's share 
will be a meager $8 billion. 

"The key issue here is not a legal one, but a moral one. Will a wealthy power 
like Australia do the right thing and allow East Timor sufficient oil and 
natural-gas revenues for development to be stable and self-sufficient?" asked 
David Pargeter, a prominent Australian religious leader and persistent critic 
of Canberra's policy toward Timor. "And, as with Iraq, a deadline is 
approaching that could throw one small country into chaos, this time in our 
neighborhood." 

Once viewed as the most likely economic savior of Timor, Australia has sharply 
cut back on aid since it spearheaded the transitional military presence in 
1999, arguing that it is time for other nations to do their share. A sparse $20 
million has has been allocated in the 2002-03 budget, though Canberra does give 
substantial indirect assistance through training, policing and welfare 
packages. 

Foreign Minister Horta, who spent more than a decade in Australia as an exile 
from the Indonesian administration before independence, had already anticipated 
the Australian rebuff and started looking elsewhere. 

"No East Timorese understands the nature of Australian politics better than 
Horta," said James Dunn, a veteran Australian diplomat with extensive ties in 
the region. "Horta has apparently concluded that a close link with the United 
States is necessary to East Timor's survival as a nation. [Dili] has also 
formed close relations with Malaysia and Singapore, as well as with South Korea 
and Japan." 

Whether these countries will respond, at the risk of upsetting close ally 
Indonesia and feeding anti-US sentiment, is questionable, especially if the 
security situation worsens. 

Like Australia and the US, most Asian countries privately opposed independence 
for the 100,000 Timorese, judging the tiny population too small and undeveloped 
to achieve sustainable growth. They would have preferred an initial 10-year 
period of autonomous government under Indonesian and UN jurisdiction, and the 
reintegration of the island's estranged eastern and western populations to 
remove the security threat. 

Even as the UN withdraws, Dili will have to contend with the diplomatic vacuum 
over the fate of 30,000 East Timorese who are still being detained by Indonesia 
in its province of West Timor. 

Forced to cross the border by Indonesian forces as an unsuccessful negotiating 
chip against independence, the exiles officially lost their refugee status in 
December, and now face an uncertain fate. 

"The United Nations and Indonesia hope that ending their status as refugees 
will force East Timorese in Indonesia to choose whether to resettle or go home. 
But this assumes that all the refugees have the information and freedom to make 
a choice without coercion," said John M Miller, a spokesman for East Timor 
Action Network. "The UN and its international donors must not walk away from 
this problem, nor should the Indonesian government." 
-- (©2003 Asia Times Online Co, Ltd.