A SOUTH AFRICAN PEACE KEEPER IN EAST TIMOR (1999)
Barry
Fowler's note: This is published with
the permission of the author, taken from personal correspondence between him
and me – we met originally in 1981. I
asked him if I could publish it after the interest expressed on Army Talk when
I mentioned it, and although it was not written with any form of publication in
mind, he has agreed to allow me to publish it.
On Mission in East Timor:
In mid June, I was one of 12 South Africans
recruited by the United Nations Development Programme in South Africa to serve
on UNAMET (United Nations Assistance Mission to East Timor).
We served as District Electoral Officers and our
purpose was to assist with the administration of the Popular Consultation
(referendum) in East Timor. The work was very ‘hands on' and included notifying
the locals about the vote (when, how and who qualified to vote); explaining
what the UN's role was in the process.
We were assigned to specific regions in East Timor
and then divided into teams comprising two District Electoral Officers and one
translator and one driver per team. Each team was responsible for administering
the process in a district. The District Electoral Officers were mostly
professional people who had some research and electoral monitoring experience.
More about East Timor:
East Timor is a small island between Australia and
Indonesia, about an hour's plane flight from Darwin Australia. The island has
been subject to various colonial invasions stretching as far back as 1509 with
the arrival of the Portuguese. Portugal has controlled the island at various
stages of its history. In August 1975 Portugal finally pulled out of East
Timor. In December of that year, Indonesia invaded East Timor with the tacit
support of the US; Britain; and Australia. In 1978 Australia became the first
and only major country ever to recognise Indonesian rule over East Timor. In
1991 Indonesian troops opened fire on mourners in East Timor killing 200
people. In 1992 rebel leader Xanana Gusmao (the ‘Nelson Mandela' of East Timor)
was arrested by Indonesian soldiers and later sentenced to 20 years in prison.
In 1996 the Nobel Peace Prize was awarded jointly to Roman Catholic Bishop Belo
(resident in the capital –Dili) and exiled resistance leader Jose Ramos Horta.
In 1998 President Suharto was forced out of power and was succeeded by
President Habibi. In 1999 Indonesia announced that it would allow East Timor to
break away from Indonesia if the East Timorese rejected an offer of autonomy
within Indonesia.
Experiences on the
Mission:
We arrived in
Australia and were flown to Darwin for seven days of briefing. Our
accommodation, referred to as ‘tin city', comprised air conditioned, prefab
housing at the Royal Australian Airforce Base. The Base is a huge complex
situated in lush tropical, landscaped garden on the outskirts of the city of
Darwin. Everything is incredibly green –even greener than the rolling hills of
KwaZulu-Natal.
Being on Mission
with the UN is very similar to the military experience many South Africans have
been through. The ‘hurry up and wait'
mind-set is very applicable to the UN. However, at least one is not subject to
military rules and discipline.
I took some
pleasure in watching Airforce troops lining up for inspection and later, in
physical training session, running around the base whilst I took a leisurely
stroll to the dining hall for breakfast.
Our briefing in Darwin included instruction on how to register voters for the referendum and then training for the actual voting-process. We were also briefed on the health hazards in East Timor (Malaria; Cholera; Japanese encephalitis etc) and the physical dangers of working in the country (the militia).
Our group was
part of the second wave of United Nations Volunteers that arrived in East
Timor. We arrived on a converted C130
military plane and our first impression of the country was predictably the
airport, set in a lowland area amidst lush, green, bush. The tropical heat hit
us as we stepped off the plane. I thought the Durban International airport was
bad…what a joke, sheer luxury compared with Dili's. For starters, there's no
running water (anywhere on the island for that matter –even in the ‘smartest'
of hotels), the stench of the clogged toilets at the airport was a sign of
things to come. This was certainly not the tropical tourist destination one
might dream about.
As we waited
around at the airport for our UN contact to collect us, burley Indonesian
guards swaggered around with automatic rifles. We went to the canteen to wait
some more –another shock! Cokes, what! Where do you find them? Well eventually
we did after a great fuss and the unlocking an antique fridge and the exchange
of a wad of rupea.
Wildlife
surrounded us in the canteen: a large green preying-mantis swayed across the
table stalking its prey. A couple of goats wandered around in the airport's
parking lot.
Eventually
Christine, our UN contact arrived. She looked and sounded like an American
tourist guide. The only difference being that instead of a cell phone in her
hand, she had a crackling ‘hand held' (two-way radio). She was a thirtyish
plumpish woman who looked like she had seen a lot. She greeted us in a loud, bossy but cheerful voice and at last we
knew we were going somewhere. We piled into a UN bus and proceeded to the
Regional UN Headquarters in Dili.
The regional
headquarters is a far cry (literally and metaphorically) from the swish UN HQ
in New York. It is a large old colonial style house that had seen better days.
The backyard was packed with brand new UN Land Rover Discoveries. Fritz and Jan
were the Mission staff co-ordinating our activities and seeing to our needs and
were our immediate superiors.
On arrival at the
regional offices, Fritz briefed us as to which districts we would be assigned
to in the Dili-area. He looked concerned and said that he needed a volunteer
for a ‘hotspot' area called Liquicia, located some thirty minutes away from
Dili. Naturally, knowone wanted to work in a ‘hotspot' where the militia were
rampant. Violence wracked Richmond-KwaZulu-Natal
immediately came to my mind as he mentioned the word ‘hotspot'. There was
no-way I was going to volunteer for this area I thought to myself. Since no-one
volunteered, Fritz said he would have to randomly choose someone from the list
of names he had in front of him. For some unknown reason, as we sat around in
that semi-circle, some 30 of us in all, Fritz momentarily looked directly at me
and I knew my name was destined to be chosen. Some few seconds later, I was not
so happily assigned to Liquicia –my fate sealed. My partner was an Australian
from Canberra, Sharmini Sherrard.
There was no time
to waste; Sharmini asked me if I would like to come along to the market to shop
for the household I would be part of in Liquicia. Although very tired, I decided
to join her and help with the shopping. Well this was no ‘shoppertainment'
–mall experience. The Dili market, consisting of wooden stalls, is large;
crowded and you can buy just about anything.
Sharmini knew what she wanted for our house and we proceeded directly to
the stalls selling vegetables and kitchenware. We stood out quite prominently
wearing our blue UN Hats and coats as we wended our way through the crowds. We
were popular; people greeted us in exaggerated fashion. The UN had come to save
them from oppressive Indonesian rule…
Unfortunately we
were popular for other reasons as well, not least of which was the wealth we
brought along in the form of the US Dollar. The market was hot and there was no
respite from the sun. I dragged myself along, feeling the effects of my recent
journey; remnants of a chest infection and, the sapping effect of having just
run the Comrades Marathon.
Shopping required
haggling over prices and also translation from English to Indonesia Behasa.
Finally we were through with this exercise and headed off to Liquicia.
The colours of
the landscape in East Timor are soft and the drive to our village was scenic.
Driving along on that road, it was hard to believe that I was here for work
purposes and not for pleasure. Liquicia
is a small village right next to the Ocean, the clear water gently laps the
beach. Looking at this tranquil scene, I could not imagine that at this very
sight –the beach at Liquicia- a group
of church goers were flushed out of the church where they were worshiping,
butchered, and their bodies thrown into sea.
When we arrived
in Liquicia, we found our UN colleagues in serious discussion: there had been
intimidation of UN staff and local inhabitants of Liquicia. The night before I
arrived, knowone had, had any sleep because of militia activity. The militia
had been cruising around on their motorbikes (much like the hells-angels) and
circling the small group of UN occupied houses. The day before that, threats
had been shouted at UN staff. It was clear that the militia
(pro-integrationists) did not want the UN in these parts. This had formerly
been a pro-independence area until the pro-integrationist militia had rampaged
through it, chasing away and killing (the cause of the church massacre
mentioned earlier) Falantil supporters who were fighting for East Timor's
independence. The pro-integrationists did not want to lose ground in this new
stronghold.
Liquicia hits the
headlines on CNN:
Our final
evacuation from Liquicia was the culmination of a build-up of events: the
intensity of militia threats against ourselves, and the locals helping us, had
increased. We all felt unsafe and vulnerable. The civilian police who were
guarding us were unarmed and the Indonesian police were quite ineffectual in
their efforts to keep us safe. Our vehicles had been damaged after being stoned
by the militia. The situation had become ugly and untenable. The residents in
the area were terrified and fearful of even talking to us. This meant we could
not do our work properly.
Finally, one
Sunday morning, after another day of uncertainty, we decided to go to the beach
to relax a little. It was a day of some discomfort for me because I felt
feverish and was suffering from gastric flue. After the church service we rode
in convoy, with a platoon of Indonesian police, down to the beach. Whilst
others swam in the sea, I sat under a shady tree and felt miserable. My next
task was to find a loo!
Well of course
they just didn't exist and so I tried to do a disappearing trick to answer a
call of nature. ‘Disappearing' was difficult with a platoon of guards keeping a
sharp eye on us all. Finally I made it and when I returned from the bush, it
was decided that we should pack up and head back to our houses and just hang
out there. It was afternoon by this time. Some fifteen minutes after returning
to our houses, the political affairs officer from the Dili UN HQ arrived to
visit our group. He wanted to find out how we were doing and it was a surprise
to see anyone from the ‘political department' since they had been conspicuous
in their absence since the UN contingent to Liquicia had arrived. The political
office was supposed to have assisted us (the DEO's) with the process of
information dissemination at the local level.
As it happened
the timing of the ‘politicals' visit could not have been worse. No sooner had
they arrived when an urgent message came through on our radios that the militia
were very active in our area and seemed to be preparing some sought of attack
on us. We were ordered to vacate our houses and repair directly to our vehicles
(some 7 Landrovers) which had to be parked all facing the same way (in our
street) in a convoy to ensure a quick get way. Our civilian police ‘minders' took over the wheels of our
vehicles at this point and we all waited for something to happen.
Earlier we had
been briefed as to what the escape plan would be should such an eventuality
arise. We would have to proceed in our vehicles to a secluded helicopter
landing sight, if we were cut off en route to that landing sight, an
alternative sight (secret) was marked out and if we were cut off from that
sight, well we were in trouble. The final escape route was the beach…we were to
move on to the beach and wait for further instructions and when given the order,
we were to abandon our vehicles and commandeer fisherman's boats and paddle out
to sea, heading towards the capital Dili. If there were no fishing boats we
would just have to swim.
As we waited for
something to happen, the tension grew and I ran through my mind various
possible scenarios if the situation became more serious. Well it did become more serious. Our
position had worsened we were told, the militia were swarming all over the
area, armed and heading in our direction.
Our small contingent of civilian police were in ‘field' and running for
cover at same time trying to relay information back to us as to when we should
get ready to go. Finally the frantic command came through, “shots were being
fired, the militia were not far off”. Our drivers were instructed to start the
vehicles and put them into four wheel drive.
Engines revved in
anticipation, finally: “Go, go, go” came the command. We sped off as fast as
possible in convoy down the road. Our route to the escape sight would depend on
where exactly the militia was waiting for us. En route to landing sight 1, the
radio crackled “abandon escape plan one we've been cut off, proceed to site 2,
we changed direction and sped away again. The situation was close. Ours was the
last vehicle in the convoy and we heard some shots behind us and we could see
through the dust kicked up by our vehicle that a militia van was not too far
off from us in hot pursuit. We were again told that we were cut off, the second
evacuation sight had to be scrapped. We evaded the militia and pulled up on the
side of the road. We didn't have much time to decide what to do, but in keeping
with the original plan, we exercised our last and least attractive option and
sped off to the beach.
At the beach we
waited anxiously in our vehicles under a large tree. I dreaded the final
command, “abandon vehicles and look for fishing boats and head out to sea”. I
anticipated chaos, and a free-for-all as people fought over escape-boats. It
would be everyone for him/herself under this situation and some people may have
been left behind, trapped between the bush and the sea and perhaps unable to
swim. They would have to run into the bush and hide, their fate uncertain.
Minutes ticked
by. Word came through that the militia had trapped some of the civilian police
who were still in their swimming gear, after the beach excursion earlier in the
morning. More news came in, the helicopter was being shot at and stoned. Air
evacuation seemed impossible. Minutes later, before anymore instructions came through,
militia emerged from the bush and surrounded us. They brandished weapons
(rifles and homemade pistols), pointing them at us through the windows of our
vehicles. Everyone froze and our civilian police drivers told us to avoid eye
contact and make sure the windows were kept up and doors locked. The
threatening behaviour continued for a while, windows were banged on the militia
wanted our translators to get out of the vehicles. We sat tight until finally
and miraculously a contingent of Indonesian police arrived from the police
headquarters.
Our platoon of
Indonesian police guards, who had escorted us to the beach earlier, had
vanished while we were being chased but at last it seemed other police were
rescuing us. The militia were instructed to back-off and the police escorted us
back to police headquarters in convoy.
Our suspicions
that the Indonesian police and militia were in cahoots with one another were
confirmed when upon arrival at the police headquarters, to our surprise, some
of the militia were already there and wandering about in the headquarters.
Nevertheless we were out of immediate danger. Finally about an hour later,
after it had grown dark, the UN military arrived to escort us out of Liquicia
in an armed convoy. We were not sure
whether we would be ambushed along the way back to Dili and so the final trip
back to Dili was also tense.
We were assigned new districts to work in, in
Dili and continued with our preparations for the Registration and referendum. I
had to cut short my two-month assignment to East Timor owing to [personal
tragedy not relevant to this account]. I
flew home.
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