Being Young, Then and Now

12 November 1991. Indonesian Occupation. Timorese people, mostly youths, march from the Motael Church to the Cemetery of Santa Cruz in honor of a Timorese shot by Indonesian forces in a confrontation between Pro-Independence supporters and Pro-Indonesian supporters. On the way banners and flags are put out. It is the most outspoken demonstration against Indonesian Occupation since its start in 1975. Once they arrive, Indonesian forces open fire. More than 200 people will never return home from this demonstration. A British journalist captures the massacre on film, manages to smuggle it out of the country and slowly the world begins admitting something is terribly wrong in East Timor. 12 November 2012. Ten years independence. Timorese people, mostly youths, march from the Motael Church to the Cemetery of Santa Cruz in honor of the people who died there twenty one years ago while demonstrating for their right to self-determination, their right to independence. There are banners and flags, people sing, there are speeches and there is music. There is a lot of waiting in the blazing sunshine. There are candles and flowers for the dead. There are foreigners filming and taking pictures, not under cover this time. And there are youths, many, many youths. On their banners they no longer ask for Independence, their forefathers achieved that already. But they are asking for justice. They are asking for the remains of lost freedom fighters that were never looked for. They ask for recognition for their forefathers. Today, I was both: a youth with a banner and a foreigner filming and taking pictures. And the whole day I carried with me the feeling of contrast between this day and the twelfth of November twenty one years ago. While getting ready, both in my house and while waiting for the march with my friends and our banner I though how the people back then had been preparing. They knew it was dangerous but they had no idea that they would never get back home. While we were having fun preparing and taking pictures I wondered how people had felt while getting ready. While we waited in the shade, I wondered if in 1991 there had also been such a contrast between the temperature in the shade and in the sun

While joining in with the multitudes (at some point I did neither see the start nor the end of the marching people) I enjoyed the fact that shouting “Viva Timor Leste” would cause nobody problems today, that the police cars were there for us and not against us, that people were able to sing and laugh

And that waving a flag and being proud of it was allowed

They waiting, in the sun, did actually not really feel as waiting. We were just being. Standing and sitting in front of the Santa Cruz Cemetery was an activity in itself today. We did not have to run for our lives.

But the strongest feeling of the coexistence, in my mind, of these two days, separated by 21 years but unified in sense of place was when I saw the entrance of the Cemetery. From the footage of the massacre I have seen, what had most impact on me were not the images of young people holding bleeding or dead friends, it was the image of the entrance of the cemetery with people jumping or climbing over each other in an effort to get out of there, in an effort to run away from death. I could not find a better picture than this still of the video, but I still want to put it here…

The same gate, separated by 21 years

And somehow I felt thankful. Thankful that today the military were there to guarantee our safety instead of threatening it. Thankful that people holding banners were given priority instead of being killed. Thankful that the flag of an independent Timor Leste was allowed to be carried and joked with today. Thankful that I am in Timor Leste today and not twenty one years ago.

Being young, then and now…that is a central part to my research, and it was a central part today. Talking with youths in Timor Leste about their own generation and the generations before them, I have often noticed that youths feel tiny and insignificant in relationship to those youths who fought (and often died) for achieving the independence of their country. Those were the heroes, those were the people who educated each other in the bush, who survived in dire circumstances, who had nothing but achieved everything, who liberated the country. However, that is not completely the whole story. Because history does not end with the liberation of the country. History goes on. And so the generation that liberated the country is also seen as having settled too fast for the soft chair of power, as having been seduced by power. And so the struggle is not yet finished. There is independence alright, but due the powerful position of Indonesia vis-à-vis tiny Timor Leste , there is not yet justice. People in power have focused on reconciliation and state that the biggest justice of all is to have self-determination and independence. However, although many youths agree and focus on going forward, many also disagree. And that is why the youths of today also had their messages on their banners, this time not addressed to a foreign occupier but addressed to the youths of back then: “Justice is the only alternative to achieve dignity for the dead of 12 November”

I guess it is the very newest generation who caught the essence of what today is about, because the kids in my street apparently got inspired and they keep shouting to each other “Viva Timor Leste!!!”