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Peter Tukan was a participant at a three-month intensive training program facilitated by RMIT International (Melbourne, Australia) which was funded by a bilateral program between Indonesia and the Australian Government (IASTP). The Dart Centre Australasia took responsibility for the trauma and journalism component of the course, which ran over nearly three weeks. Dart Australasia Director Cait McMahon asked Tukan to introduce himself and tell something of his experiences reporting from both inside East Timor prior to its independence, and living in the border region (on the Indonesian side) post independence. This is Peter Tukan’s story.
(The views expressed in this story are those of the author only.)
I entered the world of journalism when I became a print reporter in 1984, when I was still a student at St Paulus Catholic School and Seminary in Ledalero, Maumere, on the eastern Indonesian island of Flores.
Between 1984 and 1989, I became the correspondent for the Catholic weekly news magazine Life, which was published in Jakarta; the weekly tabloid The Light, in Ende, Flores; and was also a member of the editorial staff at Vox, the student magazine on campus at Ledalero.
In 1989 I started working on the bulletin Family, which was published by the family commission of the Indonesian Bishops’ Conference, and from 1990 to 1992 became a writer for Life magazine in Jakarta.
In February, 1992, I left Jakarta for Dili, East Timor, to further my career at the daily Voice of East Timor, acting as editor until 1996, and since then have worked at the national news agency Antara’s Dili bureau. I’ve also continued on as a correspondent for the Union of Catholic Asian News, which has its central office in Bangkok, Thailand.
During 1999, around the time of the referendum in Timor Leste, I was assigned as Antara’s journalist at its Atambua agency, in East Nusa Tenggara, on the border between Indonesia and Timor Leste.
I married Lucina Oliva Seli Seng on August 30, 1995, in Maumere, and were blessed with a son Carlos Ximenes Henriques, who was born in Dili, East Timor, on June 19, 1996, and was baptised by Dili Diocese Bishop Dom Carlos Filipe Ximenes Belo, SDB, on August 8. My wife was a teacher at the Academy of Nursing in Atambua, the capital of the Belu regency.
From 1995 to 1996, I wrote and edited books about East Timor, entitled Voice of the Voiceless and In the Name of Peace and Justice. These books were presented to Bishop Belo when he won the Nobel Peace Prize.
While working in East Timor, I was chosen by Bishop Belo as his executive secretary on the Peace and Justice Commission, a church institution of the Dili diocese that was assigned to accompany and advocate for the people of East Timor in building basic human rights, justice and peace in the region.
When I was in Atambua, in September of 1999, I was made a member of the local diocese’ Social Communication Commission by Mgr Anton Pain Ratu, SVD.
In 2001, I received the respect of the Union of Catholic Asian News as a valued human interest feature writer. The stories I wrote were about the arrival of the United Nations Peace Keeping Forces in Timor Leste, lead by Australia to secure the peace in Timor Leste after the referendum on August 30, 1999.
I had already taken some journalistic training in areas such as peace journalism, at the British embassy in Jakarta, and reporting in conflict areas, that was held in cooperation with the international and local Red Cross in Jakarta.
Experiences in the conflict area of Timor Leste
During my assignment in East Timor (from 1992 to 1999), I found this area to be a very specific conflict zone because the fighting was between factions of East Timorese people themselves, who either struggled for freedom of Timor Leste or supported the integration of East Timor with Indonesia. Society here was split into two large groups. Moreover from that, there had been a continued armed conflict between Timor Leste freedom fighters and the Indonesian military from 1975 to 1999.
Aside from the conflict though, there were also many abuses of basic human rights by the military. In a situation of conflict like this, the people who suffer and experience trauma the most are the innocent women and children.
While in East Timor, my family and I often experienced physical threats from anonymous people. Twice I was beaten by groups of people I didn’t recognise when riding my motorbike from the newspaper’s office to my house, which was about four kilometres away. The assailants were wearing masks and hoods like ninjas and stopped my bike and then hit me a few times. When I fell off my bike they ran away.
Another time, my life was threatened by someone I didn’t know. He slapped me across the face then left me standing there. I was fortunate that he didn’t have a knife or a gun or I’m sure he would have finished me off.
I know that those physical threats were done by people who certainly felt that the media reports were causing them harm. I know which group did this but this isn’t the time to mention their name or to identify certain people. It’s enough to say that I know.
I’ve never brought up this matter with my wife so that she doesn’t have to experience the trauma. She knows that I’ve been threatened and assaulted before yet until this day she doesn’t know who did it. It’s already enough that I know.
During the period immediately before the referendum, in May 1999, I was threatened by one of the pro-integration militia leaders. He and his gang planned to kidnap and kill me. However, a colleague in the pro-integration camp obstructed their plans. The group wasn’t happy with the stance I was taking in my reports because I didn’t support their struggle to maintain the unity of East Timor with Indonesia.
They knew that I was very close and worked with the Catholic Church thought that I was supporting the liberation of Timor Leste. My close association with the church institutions identified me as a “independence supporter”. Whereas for me, I chose the principle of working as a journalist – the freedom or integration of Timor Leste was a political problem and not my affair. I wasn’t concerned and didn’t care about that. I only cared that I covered the events based on ethical journalism without even an ounce of political ideology from the various warring factions.
Another experience that I could never forget was the actions of fellow journalists who told my superiors that I was actively supporting the freedom movement. That report was very dangerous for both me and my family because I could have been sacked from my position.
As it turns out though, the report was apparently dismissed by those higher up and my concerns about my losing my job disappeared. My superiors knew and understood that all of my work done in East Timor was above board. The experience still left a bitter taste in my mouth though.
Other hardships encountered while carrying out my assignments was the traumatic experience of having to evacuate my wife and child to Flores around the time of the East Timor referendum. In April 1999, my wife and son left Dili, the capital of East Timor. They could only take the clothes they had on for the voyage by sea from Dili to Maumere, Flores.
My wife and son only brought just enough clothes to Flores because they thought they would return to East Timor as the propaganda spread by the pro-integration group was that they would win the referendum on August 30, with the majority of East Timorese choosing to remain with Indonesia. However, as it turned out, their guess wasn’t right because the pro-liberation force won the referendum and Timor Leste obtained its freedom and Indonesia had to get out of the region.
The victory for the people of East Timor for becoming an independent state, however, caused many hundreds of thousands of people to flee to West Timor, in East Nusa Tenggara. Together with my wife and child, we had to leave the house we were paying off in instalments through the National Savings Bank. The house was worth Rp 35 million but we were forced to leave it behind. All the furniture was also left behind as the security situation in the city was already restive. We didn’t have the chance to save anything from the house. All that effort to buy the house and all its contents and now it would be plundered by people in the gory aftermath of the referendum declaration on Septemebt 4, 1999.
We were forced to flee to Atambua without enough clothes and furniture. We had to start life all over again while I still had to work on reporting the conflict.
In April 2005, when I was covering the visit of the Indonesian President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono to Timor Leste, I still made time to go and see our house that we left on September 7, 1999, but the house was already occupied by local people. When they found out that it was my house, they chased me away saying: “Indonesia lost the referendum so all Indonesians’ property becomes our property. You no longer have rights to this house.”
I didn’t want to quarrel with them or raise objections because I realised it was better that my house, which was still in one piece, was freely given to the people of Timor Leste instead of questioning it and extending the conflict.
I still remember that after I fled from East Timor in 1999 to Atambua, I was still writing stories as per usual - stories from the border regions about hundreds of thousands of innocent refugees.
Nevertheless, on September 12, 1999, I received an assignment to return to Timor Leste to cover the official arrival of the United Nations to the area to restore and help keep the peace. I returned to East Timor travelling overland. My assignment was in Dili, which had been affected by widespread fires and destruction until the Australian-led peace keepers arrived. The UN arrived on September 20, under the leadership of Major General Peter Cosgrove. From then, East Timor was under the care of the United Nations peace keepers and the Indonesian Emergency Military Command, led by Major General Kiki Syahnakri.
On September 25, I returned again to Atambua with all the refugees, however, during October, many refugees (with the help of the United Nations High Commission for Refugees) returned to East Timor. The UNHCR facilitated their return home using many trucks and ferries which were anchored in the port of Atapupu, about 25 kilometres north of Atambua.
During this repatriation effort, I re-entered Timor Leste, making use of the ferry transports that were bringing many displaced East Timorese back home. When in Dili, I received a letter from Bishop Carlos Belo, giving me his recommendation to caver events in the region. That letter was also signed by Major General Peter Cosgrove.
Basically the recommendation letter allowed me to enter Timor Leste freely to cover what was happening there. I was always afforded protection and security from the peace keeping troops while I was carrying out my reporting in the midst of the East Timorese people in Dili, who at the time were still very angry towards the people who had destroyed their city.
After three days on assignment in Dili, I went back to Atambua (taking the ferry) to write my articles there. As part of the voyage, I brought money from many East Timorese who wanted me to buy day-to-day necessities like rice, salt, matches, sugar and other things.
After shopping in Atambua, I brought all the items to Dili on the ferry – as it was the place many refugees went when returning to their birthplace. On arrival to Dili, all the ordered items were given away to the East Timorese because Dili was like a ghost town which didn’t have food or any day-to-day necessities except for the emergency aid dispensed by the UNHCR and various other NGOs that began working there after the unrest had died down.
I experienced many difficulties when bringing items I bought for people in Atambua back to Dili. The items were inspected dockside in Atapupu by certain people. Many of the items, such as rice, sugar and wheat were confiscated at the harbour because, according to the people there, we didn’t need to help the East Timorese because they had already chosen independence and were no longer part of Indonesia. I was even threatened because people knew I was providing assistance to the East Timorese. However, with the help of the UNHCR staff at Atapupu, the items were successfully carried through to Dili with the refugees heading back to their homeland.
When I was aboard the ferry, heading to Dili, I felt very safe because I still had the letter of recommendation from Bishop Belo and Major General Cosgrove.
This was the time that was most difficult and gripping for me, when I was making moving between Atambua to Dili – and vice versa – aboard the ferry, covering the repatriation of refugees and also doing humanitarian work such as the transporting of goods for East Timorese back and forth between the cities.
I continued to purchase the much-needed items for the East Timorese until December, 1999. Going into 2000, these activities stopped because there was already plenty of assistance from various international humanitarian agencies by then.
To this day, many people from Timor Leste still remember what I did for them – especially helping to bring necessities and emergency aid to Dili during such difficult times.
I still remember when certain people prevented the needed goods, like rice, wheat and cooking oil, from leaving Atapupu harbour. I was scared but not of those people who tried to stop me; I was scared the East Timorese people might accuse me of lying about bringing the items. As it turned out, many items were stopped in Atapupu.
Because of this, I often spent much of my own money to buy the goods confiscated at the docks if for no other reason than to keep my promise to the East Timorese people because they wouldn’t believe what happened if they didn’t see it for themselves. At that time many of them were suffering and in a situation like that they were easily offended and distrustful of all Indonesians in Timor Leste.
In situations such as this, one thing that kept me going was my wife, who always understood what I was trying to do and, although a lot of our money was used to help the East Timorese, she remained patient and never protested. She knows it was better for us to offer our own money than to have the East Timorese lose hope.
We weren’t a rich family. But what we had in our simple lives we gave to those with sincere hearts. This was our motto: “Even the poor people can help those in need.”
I also had another type of experience with fellow reporters during my assignment to East Timor around the time of the referendum. Many journalists from overseas came to write stories about East Timor, however, some were biased. These biased stories only helped to create new conflicts and add to the fighting going on between the various groups in East Timor.
This happened mainly because many journalists who covered East Timor at that time didn’t understand the background or history of the conflict very well. As a result, they wrote articles without taking into consideration the long-term consequences they could cause.
It’s only proper that I say that many reporters from overseas and also from other regions in Indonesia wrote good stories but those topics shouldn’t have been expressed so openly in the media. People often perceived the stories in an emotional way and without using sound reasoning. Therefore they could easily be incited with news from the media that sparked controversy.
One thing that scared me was that all the journalist who came from other countries left for home as soon as they’d completed their assignments in East Timor. However, us local journalists had to stay in East Timor and the impact and discontent caused by our foreign colleagues’ stories flowed on to us.
Based on this, I often got very worried when I saw a foreign journalists or one from other region come to the area. The biased stories they write cause hardship for local journalists who bear the brunt of the anger from people who are offended by it.
Experiences of conflict in the border area of Atambua
On September 6, 2000, three staff from the UNHCR delegation’s office in Atambua were killed by a group of pro-integration East Timor refugees. After they killed them, the corpses were burned in the office’s courtyard.
I witnessed the militia savagely burning the victims’ remains. Some staff at the UNHCR office were forced to run and hide in the safe house of Atambua Bishop Mgr Anton Pain Ratu, SVD, which was about 600 metres from the office building.
One of the militiamen suddenly spotted me and pointed his gun angrily, stopping me as I was making my way from the Bishop’s safe house to the UNHCR building, which was now on fire. The gunman threatened to kill me if I didn’t tell him where the Malaysian head of the UNHCR delegation was.
Although I was scared, I pulled myself together and said: “It is not only you who is a victim of this conflict but me as well. Everything I owned in East Timor has been lost except for my wife and child, who are only alive because they fled. And this head of the UNHCR, he didn’t do anything wrong. He was only carrying out orders that were given to him. If you’re angry, don’t take out your frustrations on journalists like me or those UNHCR workers. Right now, we’re all victims.”
When he heard what I said, the militiaman embraced me and cried because he thought the trouble in East Timor and across the border was caused by the UNHCR and by Westerners. He blamed the separation of East Timor from Indonesia on Western countries who were playing political games. According to the militiaman, because of this, had to flee and lost all their livelihoods in East Timor and he was very traumatised and hated anyone who he thought came from the West.
After the incident at the UNHCR office in Atambua, there were certainly many more incidences of violence in the various refugee camps that sprung up all over the Belu province, near Timor Leste. Violations of human rights had to be endured every day by people living in the border regions.
I experienced a dilemma in my job as a journalist; having to juggle telling all these stories of human rights abuses in a fair and transparent way with the possible risks it could create for myself, my wife or my child.
There were many examples of violence and trauma in the troubled conflict region which, if I wrote about them today, they would certainly bring a very real risk that could result in a very tragic death.
In telling these stories, I had to wait for the right time. At that time, I had not yet related all the traumatic experiences that occurred in the border region because “I still had to look after my family who were in the conflict zone.” “Today my wife, my son and I are still here.” I still have a son who can grow up to be like me one day.
Perhaps I could still draw up the courage to tell of these violent and traumatic experiences while I was on assignment in East Timor during those past years (1992 to 1999) because it is all in the past and has become “history” that can live on in books and films for the next generation.
For me, the risks of telling that history is certainly smaller when compared to opening up fresh wounds today in the troubled conflict area where everyone is still “silent witness to the drama of life” and still “a people without a voice.”
I’ve already told enough of my story now. Until we meet again.
God bless…
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