Carlos L. Caceres-Collazo: To the memory of our friend

Carlos L. Caceres-Collazo: To the memory of our friend

By Victoria Serra

JAKARTA (JP): On Wednesday Sept. 6 compassion suffered a blow
in Atambua, West Timor, as our friend Carlos L. Caceres-Collazo
and two of his colleagues, Pero Simudra and Sampson Aleghn, were
struck down. Carlos was one of the kindest, most gentle and
friendliest people I have ever met. Here are a few lines in his
memory.

When I first met Carlos he was truly in his element. We were
both attending a summer course in human rights, at New College,
Oxford, doing two of the things that Carlos liked best; learning
new things and meeting people from all over the world. We
undertook a busy schedule of lectures and classes in subjects
such as human rights advocacy, women's rights and refugee law.

When classes were over we would gather at one of those
picturesque Oxford pubs, and discuss human rights and
international politics late into the night. We all listened with
great interest to Carlos' stories of his work with refugees in
Russia. I think many of us felt a great deal of admiration for
the fact that he was brave and devoted enough to go to places
like Inguschetia and Chechnya, and endure the freezing cold
Moscow winters, to help those who had no one else to turn to.

Life in Russia was not always easy for Carlos. He lived in
Moscow when the Chechnyan crisis was at its worst. Being a native
of Puerto Rico, and thus having dark hair and brown eyes, he
apparently looked a lot like someone from Chechnya. Because of
this, over a period of several months, Carlos was often detained
by the Russian police. But that never swayed him from his goal to
assist human beings in need of help.

Getting arrested all the time was hard enough for Carlos. The
work he was doing was also very demanding, and when I came to see
him, during the cold Moscow autumn, he told me that when his
contract ran out he would really like to go somewhere a bit
warmer.

He had after all grown up on the tropical island of Puerto
Rico, and he thrived in tropical climates. Carlos was a romantic
man and had always been fascinated by people and culture, and so
he worked hard to get a posting somewhere in Southeast Asia. He
finally got his posting in Indonesia, where the UN High
Commissioner for Refugees (UNHCR) sent him to work in West Timor.

Carlos liked being in Indonesia. He said it felt good to be
surrounded by people who were polite and smiled and that the
variety of cultures was enthralling, it was a pleasant change
from the cold greyness of the Russian winter.

Carlos was sent to work in Betun and Atambua, to try to ensure
the safety and well-being of hundreds of refugees, who had lost
everything, and were stranded, far away from their homes. Carlos
himself was also far away from home, working under extreme
conditions, in what he described as an increasingly threatening
atmosphere.

In the week before his death he spoke to me of his fears, as
members of militia groups became increasingly threatening, always
with impunity and often with local military collusion. He had
actually began to feel relief during the occasions UNHCR staff
had to leave their location, when the threats from the militias
seemed increasingly serious.

But Carlos was set to get a well-deserved break from the
madness of West Timor. From Sunday Sept. 10 he was going to be in
Yogyakarta, to study the Indonesian language for three weeks.
Carlos had a great talent for languages, and besides English, and
his native language Spanish, he was also fluent in French, Czech
and Russian. He was also eager to learn Indonesian, and he was
looking forward to spending some time studying in Java's cultural
capital. We had agreed to meet in Yogya next weekend, to go and
see Boroboudur, the Sultan's palace, and all the other sights
together.

I received an e-mail from Carlos, dated Sept. 4, saying that
he was back in Atambua, after having been evacuated to Bali for a
few days. That was the last contact I had with Carlos. I do not
know why those in charge believed that it was safe enough for
UNHCR to send their staff back to Atambua. From Carlos' e-mails
it seemed clear to me that it was not.

Carlos did everything in his power to help people in need. He
experienced great trials and hardships, to help those who had
none to turn to. He tried to find a home for those who were
homeless, and he saw to it that the hungry were fed. For this he
was struck down by those who would raise vengeance above
compassion.

The Worldly Hope men set their Hearts upon

Turns Ashes - or it prospers; and anon,

Like Snow upon the Desert's dusty Face

Lighting a little Hour or two - is gone

Tamam Shud (Omar Khayyam)

The writer is a human rights lawyer from Sweden, currently
based in Jakarta.