| Subject: The Age: Feature: Timor's Lost
Children
The Age [Melbourne] Monday 18 June 2001
Features
Timor's lost children
By LINDSAY MURDOCH
Antonio da Silva rarely smiles. His left ear has been cut off, his
fingers broken and he has seen some of his militia friends killed during
his fight to keep East Timor part of Indonesia.
But 41-year-old da Silva insists that his East Timor homeland will
again become part of the Republic of Indonesia. "East Timor cannot
stand alone," he says.
"It cannot survive because it doesn’t have the economic
resources. Even with the help of the international community it has now
there are serious problems."
As the United Nations makes the final preparations for East Timor to
emerge as the world’s newest nation when elections are held on
August 30, da Silva says he is making sure that a new generation of
Timorese children see things the way he sees them – from
Indonesia’s perspective.
Defying UN conventions protecting children, da Silva last month helped
separate 46 children aged between six and 12 from their parents in refugee
camps in West Timor and escorted them by ship and bus to a privately owned
dormitory in the hills above the Indonesian city of Yogyakarta in central
Java.
Humanitarian workers suspect that pro-Jakarta Timorese living in Java
want to indoctrinate the children as activists to push for East Timor’s
eventual reintegration with Indonesia. The Hati Foundation, an
organisation led by a prominent Timorese activist, Octavio Soares, has now
transported almost 200 Timorese children from the camps since 1999 and
placed them in orphanages or institutions across Java.
Death threats that Soares made early this year to UN officials forced
them to abandon efforts to reunite some of the children with their
parents, who have returned to East Timor from the West Timor camps
controlled by pro-Jakarta militiamen, including da Silva.
Surrounded by the newly arrived children at the Yogyakarta dormitory,
Soares says he "doesn’t give a damn" about the UN or the
Indonesian Government, which never gave him permission to take them from
West Timor. "My responsibility is to the (Timorese) community,"
he says. "The more money I have, the more children I will bring out.
I will bring 10, hundreds or thousands if I can."
Almost two years after militiamen, backed by Indonesian police and
troops, rampaged through East Timor in an orgy of violence and then forced
250,000 Timorese across the border, alarm bells are ringing about the
possibility of a sustained campaign to destabilise East Timor.
Indonesian officials this week released the results of a two-day
canvass showing that 98.02 per cent of 113,794 Timorese refugees stranded
in West Timor had opted not to return home. Foreign observers greeted the
results with scepticism, pointing out that the camps are still under
militia control, leaving anyone who opted to return open to reprisals.
"People who may not have given up hope of seeing East Timor join
Indonesia have access to 100,000 people to use for whatever purpose,"
says a UN official who asked not to be named. "These people are not
returning as we thought most of them wanted."
Unless the camps are cleared UN peacekeeping troops – many of
them Australians – will have to stay dug in along the East Timor
side of the border, diplomats and analysts say. Soares, an
Indonesian-educated medical doctor who speaks four languages, skirts the
question when asked whether his motive for taking the children out of the
camps is part of a plan to capture East Timor back for Indonesia.
"That’s a very sophisticated story about me," he says.
"Oh, so I can indoctrinate some person? For 23 years, Indonesia never
succeeded in indoctrinating all the East Timorese. How come a stupid,
ordinary person like me can indoctrinate people?"
Soares says that "maybe some journalists think that because I’m
Indonesian, I would indoctrinate the kids ... But you know what? It’s
not that easy to indoctrinate them". "Even Jesus Christ can’t
make every man believe in him, right?"
Soares says that if East Timor again became part of Indonesia, he would
not go back. He says his Portuguese ancestors did the wrong thing by East
Timor and he would like to help the Timorese, especially the children, as
an apology.
Calling the children he has brought out from the camps "my
children," Soares becomes agitated when told that parents interviewed
by The Age who have returned to East Timor want their children returned.
"Yes, I read that," he says. "But it’s a stupid
thing. I wasn’t that stupid when I first came to them (the parents)
and informed them about the kids going to study in Java."
Soares dismisses the stand of the United Nations High Commissioner for
Refugees that children should never be separated from their parents in
times of conflict or upheaval, except in extreme circumstances.
Referring to 120 children he left at Catholic orphanages near the
Indonesian city of Semarang in late 1999, Soares says: "The children
can decide for themselves how they would like to live. They can hear. They
can understand. The children have already been knitted to the environment.
They can feel it. They will say, 'I want to stay here (at the orphanages)
in good condition. I’m healthy. I’m safe. Why should I go
back? Okay mother, if you love me, why don’t you just come and see
me here?"’
Soares admits that he has lost his temper during talks with UN
officials. "I am a bad guy," he says. But he then asks:
"What do they say about me? Do they think I am a lunatic?"
Bearded, wiry and hyperactive, Soares produces pro forma documents he
says have been signed by the parents of the 46 children at the Yogyakarta
dormitory that has just been opened by a 70-year-old retired Indonesian
Education Department lecturer.
Soares denies claims that forms supposedly signed by parents of the
other children were fraudulent. "Yes, all the parents gave their
approval. They need to declare their approval openly in front of the
community."
UN officials who have been trying to reunite some of the other children
with their parents were not aware that a new group had left the camps
until contacted this week by The Age. The UN has banned its officials
working in West Timor since three UN aid workers were murdered by
militiamen in the border town of Atambua in September last year. This has
prevented them asking the parents of most of the children who have been
brought to Java whether they would like to be reunited with their
children.
Officials and humanitarian workers are worried that the longer the
children stay under Soares’ influence, the more traumatic it will
be to reunite them with their families. Some have already forgotten their
parents’ names. Catholic nuns caring for the 120 children at five
orphanages near Semarang say many of them are deeply traumatised and
confused and sceptical about UN assurances that their parents want them to
return.
Friends of Soares have confiscated letters sent by many of the parents,
humanitarian workers say. The nuns too, have been unsure of UN assurances
that it is safe for the children to return to East Timor and that the
parents want them back, placing them at the centre of a tug-of-war between
Soares and the UN.
In an attempt to convince the nuns, the UN recently flew three of them
to East Timor meet the parents. But Soares seems to think he knows best
about the children’s future. "The nuns came to me when they
returned," he says. "They said to me, 'sorry, we signed
something in East Timor.’ But I know that the UN blurred the
situation. It is not as they saw it. Not as it was explained to
them."
Soares then launches into a tirade against some of the parents,
accusing one father of rape and others of being "too stupid" to
take care of their children. "If I gave the parents money, they would
spend it all in one day," he says. "My aim is clear ... I’d
like to do a little bit for the East Timorese because they are stupid,
poor and neglected. So when I die, my great, great grand-children will
remember me as a good person ..."
Soares, whose uncle, Abilio Soares, was the former Jakarta-appointed
governor of East Timor, left the territory at the height of the militia
violence in September 1999 and has not returned. He says he has read
reports that international non-government-organisations want to quit East
Timor because of the situation there. "There’s no hope for
East Timor to live," he says.
"Because the big countries that said they would help, like
Australia, did nothing. People sit in Darwin, Sydney and Melbourne and
look at East Timor and say, `die you East Timor, die you’."
Whenever Soares speaks, the children have been told to stop whatever
they are doing and listen carefully.
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