E. Timorese reporter tells of his great escape

E. Timorese reporter tells of his great escape

This is an account of an East Timorese journalist's escape
from his homeland early this month. His story is typical of those
fleeing persecution from pro-Indonesia militias. The journalist
requested that his identity be concealed, because he fears for
the safety of family members still in East Timor.

Dili was already very tense on Wednesday (Sept. 1). People
were talking about a massive sweeping operation by pro-Indonesia
militias. Many dismissed the rumors. Even if they believed them,
they stayed. After all, they said, they experienced it in 1975.

When the result of the ballot was announced on Saturday (Sept.
4) at 9 a.m., the shooting began. They were mainly targeting the
office of the United Nations Mission in East Timor (UNAMET) in
Dili and foreign journalists.

Most people stayed home -- terrified. There were militias
everywhere. We saw police officers in the street, but they did
not do anything. We even saw them helping refuel motorcycles and
cars used by the militias to roam the streets.

On Sunday morning there was a brief lull. The militias let
people pray in churches. After 9 a.m. the shooting resumed.

There was no real armed conflict. It was just the militias
firing at will. Falintil (the proindependence armed organization)
did not retaliate. They kept their side of the bargain to keep
their weapons in designated cantons.

Many East Timorese were disappointed with Falintil's inaction.
But understandably, they did not want to be provoked. If they had
fired back, it would have provided legitimacy to the pro-
Indonesia campaign of terror.

The militias forced people to leave their homes. If they
refused, the militias would set fire to their houses. If they
complied, they would only break the windows and doors.

These people were forced to find temporary shelter, such as at
police or military stations and at churches. I took my family
along to the police station.

I tried to leave on Monday (Sept. 6) through Komoro Airport. I
was listed as a staff member of a Japanese media organization,
which was being evacuated from the town like all the other
foreign media then.

But I, along with other East Timorese booked on that flight,
was prevented from boarding the plane by militias guarding the
airport. They recognized me as an East Timorese journalist.

"You can't go. We all die here together," the militiamen said.

There was a brief argument as the police escort and the
Japanese journalists tried to convince the militiamen that I was
really a staff member of the Japanese consulate. The argument
ended when the militia pointed the gun at me and said: "Either he
stays behind, or nobody leaves."

We gave up, and I agreed to stay. I was forced to leave the
terminal building and the militiamen sent for their friends to
come and collect me.

Fortunately, a police officer was kind enough to smuggle me
back in the police van which earlier took me to the airport. I
was driven back to the police station before the militiamen came
to pick me up.

The police station was not necessarily a safe place.

I was warned by officers there to make my presence as
inconspicuous as possible, because East Timorese journalists were
being targeted by the militias, who regularly came and checked on
people sheltering at the police station.

By now, the militias hated all East Timorese journalists, just
like they hated students and intellectuals. They accused us of
passing on information to foreign journalists. They did not want
their brutality exposed to the world.

The officers at the police station told me to arrange my own
way out of East Timor. "We can't protect you here. We will be in
peril if we try," one officer said.

That's when I began thinking about an escape.

A friend, who was planning to travel with his family by land
over to East Nusa Tenggara, offered help. The truck was part of
an 18-car convoy that left Dili on Monday night and which headed
for the town of Atambua on the western half of Timor island.

He had his truck filled with his belongings, and I made room
for myself between two mattresses. His family rode on top of the
belongings.

During the six-hour ride to Atambua, the convoy was stopped at
eight checkpoints, all but the last one were manned by militias.
There was not a single police officer or soldier in sight. They
inspected the truck, though not thoroughly, and asked questions.
I was safe in my hiding place.

The last checkpoint, at the East Nusa Tenggara border, was
entirely manned by Indonesian police officers and soldiers.

In Atambua, we found gun-toting militias roaming the camps.
The people in the convoy did not feel safe so they proceeded to
Keva. The situation was not all that much different here. As soon
as I felt safe, I came out of hiding.

On Tuesday, I took a bus to Kupang, and stayed with journalist
friends there. They helped me find accommodation and arranged to
get me a seat on the first available plane to Jakarta.

Kupang is not all that safe. We saw a jeep full of militias
waiting outside the airport terminal, checking on people who come
and go.

I saw the incident when two United Nations refugee officials
were attacked in a refugee camp on Wednesday. Both were injured.

Kupang people felt restless, not only because of the presence
of so many refugees, but because of the behavior of militias who
are roaming about in UN cars which they seized in Dili.

Although I got a seat on a Merpati Nusantara flight bound for
Jakarta on Friday (Sept. 10), I did not want to take chances with
the airport being so closely watched. I disguised myself as much
as I could, wearing sunglasses and a cap.

I felt safer and relieved the moment I was inside the
airport's waiting room.

Although the journalist is now out of East Timor, he fears for
the safety of family members. Some made it to Atambua, but others
are still in Dili, sheltering at the military headquarters and
waiting for a ship to take them out. He had not heard from his
widowed mother, whom he believed fled to the hills. When the
family planned their evacuation, it was decided that the young
adults should flee because they were being targeted by militias.
They decided that their mother, like most other elderly Dili
residents, would stay behind.