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The SAS business card
A short trip to East Timor - extract from travel journal
Guns, militarism and fear are inseparable. East Timor is a country which has been smothered with guns, the military and fear courtesy of Indonesia, which annexed the former Portuguese colony in 1975. Within hours of arriving in an island which has been fighting a war of independence against one of the most brutal dictatorships in Asia (the Suharto regime) it is unnerving just how readily you become comfortable with the guns, the military and the uneasy fear which follows you from village to village. The fear is always by your side as you pass through a military check point or meet a member of the East Timorese resistance. You are forced to lose your fear before it becomes an impediment to you or others around you.
At the start of this year, with the assistance and support of the East Timorese resistance, two members of University Students for East Timor (USET), Sam and Kevin (not the names they travelled by) visited the occupied country of East Timor. They visited East Timor to meet members of the East Timorese resistance or "clandestine movement" who are actively fighting a guerilla war against the monolithic Indonesian army and a political war against the Suharto regime. Their visit was planned in detail with the primary concern being the safety of the East Timorese people Sam and Kevin came into contact with. Kevin wrote a journal whilst they travelled. Parts of it are reproduced here:
Thursday. Arrived in Dili. Everything on the ground hot and dry. Taxi driver soothed our jangling nerves with loud Billy Ocean tunes. Staying at hostel. Initially shocked by the toilet, but it turned out to be well above average. Incredibly hot- it seems over thirty even in the middle of the night. All the town is closed between 1 and 4 pm due to the heat. Stopped in a cafe for a warm lemonade. Three police armed with automatic rifles sat next to us. Got spooked by the guns and had to leave. Tried to look like bank clerks rather than student activists. Walked the streets for a few hours- enough time for every member of the city to yell, "hello mister"at us at least once. River bed of even the largest river, the Komoro, is parched dry; it is being mined for gravel for road repairs.
Friday.Went to the government tourist office, opposite the office for transmigration. Every official encountered asks us our address and occupation. Sam helpfully gave our 1 Spring St address in Melbourne.Wandered by the University- the scene only two months ago of the shooting of students during their mid-year exams. Made our first contact with clandestine student operatives. Told to return tomorrow. In the afternoon we climbed Christus Raja, the second largest statue of Christ in the world, kindly donated to the 'liberated peoples of East Timor' by Suharto. The statue stands 27 metres high (to symbolise East Timor as "Indonesia's 27th province") on an ocean cliff top facing Jakarta with open arms.
Lots of military on the streets. Large trucks filled with troops travelling east, a couple of military planes coming in from the east and a large military ship stationed in the docks. Indonesian spys on motor bikes follow us to most places. They are not terribly inconspicuous.
Saturday. Had mangoes for breakfast, and headed for our arranged clandestine meeting. The heat and stress beginning to take its toll, along with the unfamiliar nature of our situation. Brain questioning the whole point of the journey, whilst willing flesh carries us to our meeting. Received a note in a cafe instructing us to go to a house where we were to meet leaders of student and youth clandestine movements to exchange medicines and documents which had been ordered in Australia weeks earlier.
Walking down the street another student on a motorbike gave the password and told us not to go to the meeting, but to continue down the street. For a few critical seconds we hesitated as Sam and I tried to non-verbally communicate what we thought was the best plan of action. Decided to follow the motorbike. It is difficult to follow a motorbike on foot and look nonchalant. Lost the motorbike in the crowd. We thought we had blown it completely until we were hustled into a building.
We sat and chatted politely with some people whilst internally cursing the fact that we had lost our contact. Then a head popped around the door and said some people would see us in a few minutes. Who? The police? The army? We sat in a hot room across from a charismatic young East Timorese man.
Our hearts nearly leapt from our chests when he introduced himself as the very student leader we had never expected to meet. He gave us the password and gave a description of his friend who had arranged this meeting. We talked for 2 hours in the hot room, taping a message from this man as he talked about recent events in Dili, as well as the role of students in the East Timorese struggle and the importance of international solidarity for all oppressed peoples. We handed over documents, medication and American dollars for the student movement to use for bribes and to fund clandestine operations, such as sponsorship for women and aid for imprisoned activists. Discussed the role of USET, the structure of Melbourne University Student Union and the opportunity of publishing material about the situation in East Timor in Farrago.
In the following days, Sam and Kevin left Dili to travel around the countryside of East Timor. They saw the impact of the drought, the devastation brought by foreign-backed development and the transmigration policies of the Indonesian oppressors. But they also saw a physically beautiful country, populated by peoples of diverse cultures and incredible resilience in the face of 25 years of oppression and war. Eventually they came to the southern town of Viqueque, where no foreign travellers had been for several years.
Monday Afternoon. The road ran out at a bridge. The road workers have not yet connected the road to the bridge, so we waded across the hot river to the other side. On the west bank of the river stood a huge fig tree under which was a dug out bunker, covered in camouflage netting and containing 3 Indonesian soldiers. This area has an overwhelming military presence, which made us suspect intense guerilla activity, and I pitied the fate of this outpost should anyone attack. The soldiers looked very hot and tired. After a cursory glance we walked through a gate to a suburb in the middle of nowhere.
Two or three years ago, the Indonesians cleared a large area of land and built bamboo houses.Then poor people from Indonesia ('transmigrants') were shipped in to settle in the guerilla ridden wilderness with no infrastructure at all and expected to build new lives. This has resulted from an ongoing policy, established by Jakarta, to dilute the East Timorese population. Sam was beginning to get heart palpitations and the heat was causing my head to swim. We stopped for a hot lemonade. The shop owner said the tourists were relatively common in the area- he had seen half a dozen since he had moved in 3 years ago.
We managed to catch a bus heading for Viqueque. Whilst travelling through an area of 2m high grass,the driver kept tooting his horn the whole time. When Sam asked him why,he explained that if the Indonesians did not know we were a bus they wouldopen fire without question. We asked him to continue tooting the horn.
We finally arrived in Viqueque in the afternoon. We didn't feel like staying, but no one would drive us any further. Heavily armed soldiers patrolled and exercised in the streets. It was reminiscent of a Hollywood Vietnam movie. Soldiers poked their automatic weapons through the wares being sold in the market as they strolled along. We felt very conspicuous, partly because of our appearance, and partly because a crowd of curious people followed us everywhere we went.
We were unable to escape the scrutiny of the police. When we checked in with the police (as is the requirement for all tourists when they reach a village) they proceeded to interrogate us for the next 4 hours. Whilst we sat and explained our reasoning for being in East Timor ("it's cheaper than Bali") and our jobs ("we work in an office"), they went through our belongings and stole a Manning Clark book Sam had brought to read.
We were escorted to a restaurant by a Balinese policeman who described to us his homesickness and the demoralising pressure of his job in East Timor. A friend of his, evidently more ambitious, tried to convince us to show him any photographic equipment we had: "Perhaps you are journalists, perhaps you will take my photo as a souvenir?" We pretended not to understand him. We were held after dinner for a further hour, asked to wait for 'The Commandant', who wanted to give us his special attention. (The Commandant is the Indonesian military leader for the whole of Viqueque. In Indonesia the police are a part of the military and come under their control.)
As we waited we tried to look happy and relaxed. He arrived with a mouth hung beneath killer's eyes, wearing a bullet proof vest, he told us that he hoped we would respect the "Indonesian way" and it was his duty to interrogate us. He said he had trouble in the past with an Australian journalist who claimed to be a tourist. He eventually let us leave and go to bed, after stern warnings and recommending we leave town tomorrow morning on the first bus.
Wednesday. We arrived in the far east of East Timor after a trying bus ride through the mountains and along the beautiful coast. The town of Los Palos was less intense then Viqueque, however, just as infested by the Indonesian military. Having checked in with the police, feeling almost surprised that they did want to speak to us for more than an hour we left to look around town.
The SAS business card |
After spending some time walking the streets, having been approached by a teenage boy attempting to draw information from us(he was a spy) we ended up in the local restaurant. As we walked in and all the heads turned, (as they usually do) two military officers asked us to join them at their table for dinner. This of course was the last thing we felt like doing, however, to refuse the offer would cause offence. These military officers both spoke reasonable English, |
they were both Lieutenants and they were both eager to hear the latest value of the rupiah (Indonesian currency) against the US dollar. As we told then that a US dollar was worth about 10,000 rupiah you could see their faces drop. After spending some time talking the obligatory small talk, one of the officers told us he had been to Australia before arriving in East Timor. We sat aghast as he went on to tell us that he had been in Perth for 3 months doing special training with the SAS. He even produced an SAS business card that we quickly accepted. We finished dinner with these officers shortly after and politely refused an offer for them to drive us back to our hotel in a military truck.
Sam and Kevin spent a few more days travelling in East Timor before returning to Melbourne. They left East Timor with hope and sadness. Hope that the recent currency crisis may assist the East Timorese in winning their war of independence, but sadness in the knowledge that their small contribution towards East Timorese independence would have to be made from so far away in a country whose government actively supports the rape, killings and torture that East Timorese people live with each day.
AVCAT: Monday, 30 March 1998