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Inside, the Deputies were arrayed in neat rows, many of them dressed in the short-sleeved safari outfits favored by Jakarta's top-level civil servants. There were no Indonesian officials present, and a giant red-and-white Indonesian flag was the only sign of the new facts of life in Dili. A single agenda item figured in gold lettering on a huge red screen: "Integração de Timor Timur na Republica de Indonesia"—Integration of Eastern Timor in the Republic of Indonesia. Already, Indonesians, who love abbreviations, refer to their new territorial acquisition as "Tim-Tim."
Total Integration. Speaker after speaker launched into flowery statements in Portuguese, stressing "cultural, ethnic and material ties interrupted by 4½ centuries of Dutch and Portuguese colonialism." The assembly decided to send a delegation to Jakarta to plead for "total integration," a petition that seemed assured of a sympathetic reception.
In good Portuguese tradition, the 2½-hour session was closed with a prayer. Outside, a festive procession marched past the building. But newsmen were told that there was no time for a press conference, and Jakarta's hand-picked governor, Arnaldo de Araujo, a former schoolteacher, and all the Deputies suddenly vanished. No diplomat had any contact with them.
Back in Jakarta, officials said that East Timor would be administered as a daerah istimewa, or special territory, with separate funds earmarked for its development. Ultimately, it may become Indonesia's 27th province. "It's going to cost us millions," sighed one Indonesian army man, "not only because it may still take a year to pacify the place completely, but also because East Timor is a chronic deficit area." But, added another, "we had to swallow Tim-Tim, and we are sure our friends abroad will swallow what we have done as well, sooner or later."