---------------------------------------------------------- Visit Indonesia Daily News Online HomePage: http://www.indo-news.com/ Please Visit Our Sponsor http://www.indo-news.com/cgi-bin/ads1 ---------------------------------------------------------- Precedence: bulk Source: The Big Issues. Date: 16th July 1999 WAITING TO WAGE PEACE Sean Steele reports on his visit to East Timor, where he met members=20 of the world's most isolated guerrilla army He appeared at the edge of the forest, small, wiry, dressed in rags= -=20 a mix of military jacket and jeans. Ushering me into the forest, we were quickly and completely=20 enveloped by trees, low-lying bushes and scrub. The grassy meadow,=20 where I had stood moments before, disappeared, blocked out by the=20 banana trees whose giant palm-shaped leaves hung limply in the=20 scorching sun. Arriving at a clearing we hunched down. Without warning another=20 half dozen appeared out of the undergrowth. Standing around, fingering the triggers of their M-16 rifles, they=20 stared impassively. Then they smiled - big wide grins - and shook my=20 hand eagerly. They were small and slightly built. Two were=20 barefoot; the others wore light sandals. They were armed to the=20 teeth with pistols in their belts and had machetes dangling by their=20 sides. Finally I was face-to-face with the fighters of Falintil, East=20 Timor's liberation army. Throughout this tiny island 300 miles north=20 of Australia, people speak about them as "our friends in the=20 mountains". Numbering only 600, their symbolism represents more=20 than their numbers suggest. "For us Falintil means freedom," exclaimed Fernao, a lanky, reticent=20 youth in the capital Dili. "They are up in the mountains living free=20 while we are here in prison." Since 1975 these guerrillas have fought a long, lonely battle=20 against the Indonesian army (ABRI). From their bases in the=20 mountains that are East Timor's spine, they still tie down 20,000=20 soldiers. After exchanging pleasantries, their commander appeared: a thin=20 moustachioed man of 46, he squatted down flanded by two alert=20 bodyguards, who checked every sound and movement. Known by his nom=20 de guerre Faustino, he spoke in a barely audible whisper. They all=20 did - a necessity for survival. Soldiers often use scanners to=20 detect them and listen to their conversations. Even from our forest clearing I could see the thin frame of an=20 Indonesian communications building, a mile away. Sensing my=20 nervousness Faustino said: "We are in constant touch with them by=20 walkie-talkie. Many of them have given up fighting." I had heard that in some areas Indonesian commanders had negotiated=20 local ceasefires with the guerrllas. Now it was confirmed. "They complain about bad food, bad conditions, of not being paid=20 for months," explained Jao Suquera, another guerrilla leaning his=20 rifle. "Many are just wanting to go home." Sitting back on clumps of the bare earth of the clearing, Faustino=20 lit a cigarette - "one of my few pleasures" - and sat pensively as=20 he exhaled. We met near Los Palos, a tiny town set in rolling hills on the=20 island's eastern tip. Heavily militarised with bases on every=20 street, it shows how difficult the guerrillas have made it, that=20 even now ABRI doesn't completely control the area. Faustino has been with Falintil since 1976, one of a handful of=20 survivors from that era. Most of his family are dead. But his is=20 hardly the exeption in a country where 300,000 (half of the 1975=20 population) have died. Along with wanting to fight for independence, all of them have=20 personal reasons for joining Falintil (Indonesian army savagery=20 ensures a steady supply of recruits). "There is no-one who hasn't lost several members of their=20 families, declared Armando Nunhes. " In my family, 12 were=20 murdered. The Indonesians treated us like animals so I decided to=20 join." There are few women guerrillas but I managed to meet one, an=20 emaciated, deeply traumatised 19-year-old, Rosa. Her=20 taut features spoke of a life of suffering. Unlike the others,=20 Rosa was born in the mountains, and into the movement. But like=20 the others, most of her family are dead. "Myself and my mother were the only ones who survived," she=20 says, never raising her eyes as she recalls a catalogue of terror. =20 Her father and nine brothers and sisters died in the bombing. She carries a pistol but doesn't fight, "the guerrillas are my family and I help them by cooking; attending to the sick is the best=20 thing I can do." Life for these fighters means moving between 'camps', usually=20 straw huts hidden in thedensely forested mountains, always hunted,=20 often hungry or sick with stomach problems, rotten teeth or=20 malaria. Nowadays, most Falintil actions are defensive. Their numbers are=20 too few to mount attacks. Their mere existence is enough to keep=20 the flag flying for East Timor's independence. In the late 1970's Falintil had 6,000 men, whose determined=20 resistance slowed a for larger, lavishly equipped Indonesian army,=20 inflicting huge casualties on the invaders (over 25,000 soldiers=20 have died since 1975). By 1975, when Los Palos was taken,=20 constant war and starvation had decimated guerrilla ranks. What=20 really turned the tide was the arrival of fighter aircraft, Hawks=20 from Britain and Broncos from America. "We remember those aircraft bombing, the terror they caused,"=20 recalled Armand Nunhes. "Every day they attacked villages,=20 dropping napalm that burned people's skins. Thousands were=20 killed, including my parents." By the early 1980's the guerrillas were nearly finished as a=20 fighting force. Under Xanana Gusmao's leadership, they were=20 reorganised into four regions and rebuilt. Faustino is secretary=20 of "Region One", that covers the Eastern island, and has 380=20 fighters and supporters drawn from a civilian support network -=20 "the clandestine front" - that operates in every town and village. It was this clandestine front that organised my visit right under=20 the noses of the Indonesian army. Meeting Falintil isn't easy. Letters are exchanged, work sent=20 ahead, permission sought. Once given I had to go to Los Palos,=20 a bone-breaking six hour bus jouney from Dili along narrow=20 crumbling roads. At dawn at a pre-arrandged spot, I was bundled=20 onto the back of a lorry, asked to lie on the floor along with my=20 Timooerese translator and covered with a tarpaulin. As we sped along he whispered, "There are Indonesian bases=20 along there. If they find us we are in big trouble." After half an hour, we came to a bumpy halt. Jumping off I=20 found myself at the edge of the forest from where they emerged. There small groups are the world's most isolated guerrilla force=20 who have no borders to seek sanctuary or smuggle weapons across. All their weaponry comes from captured or dead Indonesian soldiers. Some can be bought on the black market from corrupt Indonesian officers. The going rate for an M-16 they informed me is =A3300, a bullet costs 20p. Falintil depends on the ordinary people for food. In the=20 thickets beyond I could just make out several women, local=20 villagers who come with rice, bread and dried meat. "Falintil=20 is not just fighters," says Jao, turning to look at them. "It=20 is the Timorese people. Without them we could not survive." The banter between them and the guerrillas indicates a close=20 relationship. And the relaxed postures and laughing showed a=20 different side of the East Timorese. With soldiers they were=20 submissive, unsmiling, with their eyes normally fixed downwards. Talk turns to the future as Faustino outlines his conditions for=20 Falintil laying down its arms. "All Indonesian forces would have to withdraw and several thousand=20 UN peace keepers would have to come to snsure security and seal the=20 border [with Indonesian West Timor]." "Then we would hand over our guns but only when the conditions are=20 right," he stresses. UN monitors are coming, but not the numbers Fausino or most East=20 Timorese want. 280 unarmed police - including 20 from Ireland - and 450=20 civilaian observers will nonitor the voting on 28 August, when the=20 East Timorese will vote to stay with Indonesia or become independent. Originally scheduled for 8 August, it was postponed because of violence from army controlled paramilitary gangs who have killed hundreds and driven 100,000 villagers from their homes. Despite this Falintil have held their fire. "We believe they [ABRI] are provoking us by terrorising our=20 people," explains Jao. "but Xanan has ordered us not to fore. We=20 want this process to work and not give Inodnesia an excuse to=20 restart the war." Faustino admits to looking forward to an end to the 23-year-old war,=20 although he is unsure what he will do afterwards: "I don't know what=20 I will do when we get independence. But the most important thing is=20 that we get freedom. "A lot of damage has been done," he adds. "People have suffered so=20 much. We will need a long, long time to heal." Until then the struggle continues: "We want the war to stop but we=20 will hold onto our weapons and keep fighting as long as necessary." =20 =20 East Timor Ireland Solidarity Campaign Suite 16, Dame House 24-26 Dame Street=20 Dublin 2 Telephone 00 353 1 671 9207/ 677 0253 /623 3148 Mobile 087 286 0122 Fax 00 353 1 671 9207 Timorese Community in Ireland 00 353 1 453 1462=20 web http://indigo.ie/~etisc/ Offices in: Dublin Belfast Laois Galway Claremorris ---------- SiaR WEBSITE: http://apchr.murdoch.edu.au/minihub/siarlist/maillist.html ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Didistribusikan tgl. 20 Jul 1999 jam 10:54:01 GMT+1 oleh: Indonesia Daily News Online <[EMAIL PROTECTED]> http://www.Indo-News.com/ ++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
