How East Timorese Women Contributed to their Struggle for Independence

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How East Timorese Women Contributed to their Struggle for Independence

Talk given at Newcastle International Women’s day dinner

7 March 2014

Jude Conway with assistance from Cesarina Rocha

Many stories of the East Timorese resistance to the Indonesian invasion exclude women, or

portray them as victims. In the main this talk is not about the human rights violations the

women suffered, it is about how the East Timorese women played a crucial role in their

struggle for independence. As well as educating their children, preserving their cultural

heritage, and passing on the spirit of nationalism for their sacred land they participated in the

three fronts of the resistance:1

the armed struggle in the jungle-clad mountains;

the clandestine movement of students and people in towns;

and the diplomatic front in the diaspora.2

This talk is interwoven with the voices of many of those Timorese women:

The revolution for national liberty for 24 years was not just a dream, or a snapshot, or a

movie on TV, it was the reality of loss of life, with the thinking that it was better to die than

live with other people ruling us. If we wanted to rule our country, it would have to be with

our flesh and blood.3

After the Carnation Revolution in Portugal in April 1974 political parties were legalised for

the first time in Portuguese Timor. The two main parties were Fretilin and UDT. UDT had a

strong following among landowners – large and small. Fretilin’s policy of agrarian reform

was popular in the mountains, where people lived under a feudal system. Fretilin shifted to

the left after a group of students returned from studies in Portugal and Mozambique, who had

close ties with liberation movements in Portuguese Africa.4

At this time illiteracy in Timor was estimated at 93% and women’s lives mainly centred

around their families, with girls comprising only 25% of primary school enrolments. Fretilin

campaigned on a ‘new vision for East Timor, and equality between men and women was in

their plans. Rhetorically. Of 50 members of the Fretilin central committee, only 3 were

females.5

On 11 August 1975, UDT launched a coup to halt the growing popularity of Fretilin. Fretilin

staged a counter-coup and civil war erupted. During the civil war the Popular Organisation of

1 Maria Domingas Fernandes Alves, Laura Soares Abrantes & Filomena B. Reis (eds), Written in Blood, Dili:

Office for the Promotion of Equality, 2003, vi, viii; Lafai Lighur, ‘A message to the Beijing Conference from

East Timorese Women’, 6 September 1995; Irena Cristalis & Catherine Scott, Independent women: the story of

women’s activism in East Timor, London: Catholic Institute for International Relations, 2005, 64; Idelta Maria

Rodrigues in Beba Sequeira & Laura Abrantes (eds), Secrecy: The Key to Independence, Dili: Asia Pacific

Support Collective-Timor-Leste, 6.

2 Mica Barreto in Jude Conway (ed.), Step by Step: Women of East Timor, Stories of Resistance and Survival,

Darwin: CDU Press, 2010, 125.

3 Luciana da Costa in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 82.

Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 16.

5 Hannah Loney, ‘Women and Resistance in East Timor’ History honours thesis, University of Melbourne,

2010, 3, 7, 15; Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 27.

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Timorese Women, OPMT, was founded by some of the female students who had returned

from overseas study. The secretary Rosa Bonaparte, described OPMT as a mass organisation

of Fretilin to enable women to participate in the fight against colonialism and to eliminate

violations and discrimination against Timorese women. Rosa Bonaparte had a great capacity

to mobilize the public. With her colleagues, she organised campaigns to defend women’s

rights and support oppressed women and to teach them revolutionary theory.6

FRETILIN won the civil war and UDT leaders fled. The most pressing task for OPMT was

the sheltering and treatment of children and families whose houses had been burnt down, and

their relatives and parents killed.7

Fretilin made a declaration of independence of Timor-Leste on 28 November 1975.

Rosa Bonaparte played a key role by unfurling and hoisting the new flag to symbolise the

new nation.8

Only nine days later on 7 December 1975 the Indonesian military launched a full-scale

attack: Indonesia invaded my country, planes dropped paratroopers from the skies and boats

vomited fire and hatred from the waters of the raped East Timorese sea.9

The Indonesian military who landed in Dili had a list of the names of radical women,

possibly from a Timorese who opposed the hard-line faction in Fretilin and OPMT. Isabel

Lobato, one of the OPMT founders, was among many women who were executed on 8th

December and their bodies dumped into the sea from the Dili wharf. Isabel Lobato was

portrayed in the film Balibo handing over her baby just before she was shot. The next day

Rosa Bonaparte’s body washed up on the shore. The Indonesians had tried to take her to their

warships but she resisted, and had been shot.10

Timorese were fleeing to the mountains. They took only what they could carry: a few clothes,

a sleeping mat, corn powder, a jerry can for water ... We thought it was only our family and a

few others, but the majority of the population fled to the mountains. Sometimes we had to

crawl, like a snake wriggling on the ground, from one place to another. If our babies cried we

put clothing in their mouths or the sound would draw the enemy.11

Thousands of Timorese were hiding from the Indonesian military in the jungle-clad

mountains. The people found shelter in villages and coffee plantations, or built temporary

accommodation out of palm leaves near Falintil barracks.12

(Falintil was the armed wing of

Fretilin). OPMT, such a new organisation, was required to help sustain these dislocated

people.

6 Loney, ‘Women and Resistance in East Timor’, 26; Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 185; Alves,

Abrantes & Reis Written in Blood 5.

7 Loney, ‘Women and Resistance in East Timor’, 27.


9 Lighur, ‘A message to the Beijing Conference from East Timorese Women’.

10 Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 29; Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 5; Loney, ‘Women and

Resistance in East Timor’, 30.

11 Dulce Vitor in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 28; Fatima Gusmao in Michele Turner, Telling East Timor:

Personal Testimonies 1942-1992, Sydney, UNSW Press, 1992, 129; ‘Edhina’ in Turner, Telling East Timor,

109.

12 Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 29.

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The OPMT Logistics Commission organised basic necessities for Falintil soldiers, and for the

refugees. They organised rosters for collective planting, weeding and harvesting of corn,

coffee and rice, and for picking fruit. The men would pick sago and the women would pound

it for rations. OPMT established crèches for orphans and so mothers could work in the

fields.13

OPMT organised storage and distribution of food: If we found a group of people with no

food, we collected pieces of cassava for them. If we prepared cornmeal we distributed it to all

of the groups. …We had to ensure that people had clothes. For those who didn’t, we looked

for people with three or four sets, and asked them to give an item to a sister or brother in

need.14

OPMT Education Commission launched a campaign of literacy. They did not have books so

they taught with leaves and in the soil: I did not know how to read and write even though I

was 15 so I worked hard learning letters and numbers.15

OPMT did not forget their cultural heritage: I became a teacher aged 13 in a school with no

furniture. I taught poetry recitation, and traditional dance and singing.16

OPMT established a Commission of Health and Hygiene which provided education, prepared

medicines, looked after the sick and treated wounded guerrillas: We used traditional medicine

to care for injuries and fever. Some women had knowledge of 60 to 70 different medicinal

plants. Herbs that were believed to heal were planted. Women’s knowledge of traditional

medicines and midwifery contributed to the Timorese capacity to function independently of

Indonesian rule. One midwife helped deliver over 100 babies in the mountains.17

OPMT exerted control over the people’s hygiene: We had to see if people had enough water

to bathe, and whether they washed their clothes and utensils.18

OPMT carried out corrective justice. Tasks were imposed on offenders for hitting children,

fighting or swearing. The tasks included pounding sago and helping evacuate people when

the Indonesians attacked. When completed, offenders had to make an auto-critique during a

gathering - declare their mistakes; describe the punishment and make a commitment not to

repeat the offence.19

It was not just Fretilin families who ran to the mountains. Other people had also fled:

We fell under Fretilin control in the area we were staying in and ended up contributing to the

resistance. At first I refused [because my father had been imprisoned by Fretilin in the civil

war] but I could not isolate myself from what was happening. I was appointed a secretary of

OPMT. I made my first speech when I was sixteen years old, in front of a mass of people. We

13 Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 9; Domingas ‘Micato’ Alves in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 83;

Maria da Costa Freitas in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 33.

14 Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 11; Kassian in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 51-52.

15 Kassian in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 51, Domingas ‘Micato’ Alves in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 83;

Natalia da Costa in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 15.

16 Verónica das Dores in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 39.

17 Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 8, 9; Domingas ‘Micato’ Alves in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 83;

‘Mabu’ in Turner, Telling East Timor, 117; Loney, ‘Women and Resistance in East Timor’, 34.

18 Kassian in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 52.

19 Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 11.

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had a great party. We sang Timorese songs, popular dances and revolutionary songs. It’s

ironic but I miss those days.20

In 1976 OPMT established commissions to raise the political consciousness of women. The

teachers moved from one village to another, staying for a month to educate and politicise the

people: Because I had some education, when I was only 13 years old I was appointed a

political agitator for Fretilin. I was assigned to teach the political manifesto … It was written

in Portuguese, so women’s delegates had to teach us the manifesto in Tetum for two weeks,

then we taught people about Fretilin, its roles, what the colours of the flag meant and the song

Foho Ramelau, about East Timor's highest mountain, symbolising resistance to the

occupation. We socialised people to believe in ‘Dead or Alive for Independence’ and ‘to

never go back on our promise to defend our country.’21

Women learnt how to debate and discuss politics and economics. Men and women discussed

political issues together. There was a vision of equality. The women gained respect for their

work and political opinion, but the commanders did not practise what they preached. There

were no women in the command structure of the army and very few in the political

hierarchy.22

In 1976 there were reports of a woman’s army detachment, 100-strong, led by a woman

commander receiving full military training near the border. The women had defended their

village by driving off an Indonesian attack and capturing the first Indonesian soldiers in that

region, and some of their weapons, while their men were away fighting.23

In the mountains the fighters would say that the women should learn how to operate a

weapon, because this war will take time and if all the men die, women will have to carry

weapons to continue the war until we get independence. They taught us how to disassemble a

rifle then reassemble it … how to conduct an ambush … how to shoot fire into the top of

trees, and how to shoot when we engaged the enemy in order to kill them.24

It was dangerous in the mountains - the bases were attacked again and again by the

Indonesian military. Whenever our base was heavily attacked we had to divide up and flee.

Pregnant women had to lean against a tree and deliver their baby alone while their husbands

ran away to survive. … Some parents were not able to cross a flooded river with their

children, so they let them be dragged away by the water. … The war made us this way. … To

win the war we had to lose our lives and our blood - on river banks, inside caves, in the sea…

If we wanted to rule our country … it would be with our flesh and blood.25

20 Domingas ‘Micato’ Alves in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 82.

21 Esmerelda de Jesus Araujo in Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 32; Luciana da Costa in Sequeira &

Abrantes, Secrecy, 79; Verónica das Dores in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 39; Natalia da Costa in Sequeira &

Abrantes, Secrecy, 16.

22 Kassian in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy 52; Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 9; Esmerelda de

Jesus Araujo and Maria Madelina dos Santos Fatima in Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 31, 33 resp.


24 Kassian in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 49.

25 Florentina Martins Smith in Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 30; Kassian in Sequeira & Abrantes,

Secrecy, 50-51.

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After an attack we would reorganise ourselves again. We set up six different bases in six

months.26

Many times we didn’t have anything to eat: We trekked up and down mountains and crossed

rivers looking for wild beans.27

One time we only had the maek root to eat, you have to cook it in a very hot fire or it makes

you itch and your throat swell. There were many Indonesian soldiers around so it was too

dangerous for a big fire. My baby had diarrhoea, he put his arms around my neck. I didn’t

even realise when he died.28

The Indonesian military had thought they could bring the territory under control in a matter

of days. But in 1977, there were still thousands of Timorese in the mountains so the

Indonesians used Bronco aircraft from the United States and Hawk fighter jets from the UK

to try and bomb the Timorese into submission.29

Our leaders had told us: Mount Matebian will be the stronghold, don’t be afraid, our

supporters will come from Russia and China to help us. But the first time I saw jet planes

they started bombing us. We hid in a cave, more than twenty of us. The bombardment

smashed boulders, and pieces of flying rock killed many people and blocked the entry to

some caves. Many people died of thirst.

We were able to evacuate. We had food but nothing to drink, because there were dead bodies

in the spring and the water was full of blood. It was very difficult. My sister had two little

children, my mother was old. My father had been killed a few days before. My sister-in-law

was pregnant and carrying her child. I worked like a horse, carrying stuff on my head, a pack

and a small child on my back and things in my hands. I had enough strength though, I don’t

know where it came from. We boiled potatoes for our dinner and used a bamboo container to

collect water. We walked the whole night, calling out ‘Viva’ with a spirit of patriotism and

happiness.30

By 1979, after three years of fierce fighting, the Indonesian army had decimated the Timorese

armed resistance and its last stronghold, Mount Matebian had become a graveyard.31

Our leaders told us that old men and women, and children and their mothers, had to go down

to surrender. First they taught us strategies to send information back to the fighters staying in

the mountains, using numbers, stones and leaves. Later the enemy worked out some of our

signs but the stones and leaves were never worked out. 32

26 Florentina Martins Smith in Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 30; Kassian in Sequeira & Abrantes,

Secrecy, 51.

27 Dulce Vitor in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 28.

28 Fatima Gusmao in Turner, Telling East Timor, 135-136.

29 Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 32; Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 17; Domingas ‘Micato’

Alves in Conway, (ed.) Step by Step, 83.

30 Verónica das Dores in Sequeira & Abrantes, Segredu: Xáve ba ukun Rasik-An, Dili: Asia Pacific Support

Collective Timor-Leste, 2008, 36-37. (Inadvertently left out of the English version of Secrecy).

31 Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 32.

32 Verónica das Dores in Sequeira & Abrantes, Segredu, 37. (Inadvertently left out of the English version of

Secrecy).

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We started walking with other families. We entered Baucau on a Sunday and the Indonesian

military immediately arrested us. I was seventeen and was carrying my little brother. A

Timorese man started calling out: Dulce’s child is a communist, his father’s from Peking. He

called it out again and again.33

After six months in military headquarters, Dulce was transferred to the military police for

another six months. Seventeen women and a baby were put in one small room.

It was very hard. We ate cooked corn once a day, and were all sick. We had to take turns

sleeping. They continued to interrogate us, asking why we wanted independence when we

didn’t know how to run anything. They burnt us with cigarette butts to make us say why we

wanted self-government. We kept saying that we formed political parties because we wanted

liberty. But sometimes we lied so they wouldn’t rape us.34

Luciana surrendered in Quelicai and was imprisoned. A Timorese man who worked for the

Indonesian military came in one night and said: My child, you have to give your body to the

military in order to survive. If you don’t give your body, you’ll pay with your life. My friend

and I were still young, only 15. The military would call us in separately. They searched our

bodies and taunted us: Where are your communist friends? I stood up to them because the

socialisation we learned in the resistance was so deeply rooted in our minds and hearts.35

Some women stayed with the guerrillas in the mountains. Life was very basic – we were

lucky to possess two changes of clothes, and had a bath about once a month. Falintil had two

assault groups for an attack, and the women were in the second group to recover weapons lost

by first group if it met resistance. While Falintil fired sporadically, we removed their

weapons, and escaped immediately or we would be punished. The commanders never forced

the women to do sit-ups for punishment like the men, we had to kneel on stones.36

Women would also provide security in an ambush and have weapons when they were

lookouts: I learnt how to load bullets into the barrel, secure and set the trigger; how to slice

the tip off a gun to shoot fire into a house and how to keep the noise down by detaching the

fuse, emptying the gunpowder out, drying it and refilling the fuse with half of the powder. If

you used all the powder, the shot you fired in Liquiça might be heard in Maubara.37

Bisoi was surrounded by 15 Indonesian soldiers one time and sprayed them with bullets to

save her life: I must have killed at least five... I ran away fast. She also had to kill a spy who

Falintil handed over to the women to kill. Afterwards: We would confess to Timorese priests

and they would absolve us. Women guerrillas placed their new-born babies, in the gardens of

convents so they would be cared for. Bisoi had a baby with a Timorese commander and her

daughter grew up with the Carmelite sisters.38

In the city and towns, the women and children who came down from the mountains became a

support network for the remaining guerrillas and were crucial in keeping the resistance alive.



35 Luciana da Costa in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 80-81.

36 Bisoi in Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 40; Margarida Gonçalves in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy,

19.

37 Margarida Gonçalves in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 18.

38 Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 40-41.

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The situation was difficult. Sexual violence was a hallmark of the Indonesian occupation. A

widespread practice of the military was to organise dance parties and coerce local women to

attend. After the parties they often abducted women to rape or to take as a ‘second wife’

during their stay in Timor. Young, unmarried women in particular were easy prey. Many girls

cut their hair and wore t-shirts and shorts, even dirty clothes, and not brush their hair, to make

themselves unappealing.39

A Javanese soldier violated Margarida, and she had a daughter: My relatives did not

recognise me and my child, because they did not want the military to make them suffer as

well. Timor is full of children fathered by soldiers.40

Maria Gorete was 17 at the time of the invasion, a member of the Fretilin student

organisation, a young person of spirit. She chose to remain in the city and became effective at

infiltrating the enemy. She washed the troops clothes and cars, and went to their parties to get

information to pass to the guerrillas. She sucked gasoline from their cars and sent it to

Falintil. Maria Gorete was arrested many times. The bishop visited her in jail encouraging her

to stay pure. She was tortured and raped in prison but never revealed her network. When she

was freed Maria was used by the military as an interpreter and for sex. In 1979 Maria wrote

to a friend: I do not belong to myself anymore. She tried to escape to the jungle but was

arrested. Maria Gorete was 20 when she disappeared in 1979, never to be seen again.41

Verónica managed to go back to Mount Matebian to inform the fighters: We have to learn the

Indonesian language if we want to get information from the soldiers. I didn’t want to, but the

delegate convinced me to by saying: Who else can do the mission? I wanted to stay with

them, but they got angry: We cannot win this war with weapons! Everyone must carry out the

function that the leaders have assigned.42

Falintil changed its tactics. It started to operate in small units that made hit-and-run attacks.

They relied heavily on the population to support them. The men in towns were all suspected

of maintaining contact with the guerrillas so the women became the backbone of the

resistance.43

In 1980 three OPMT women met secretly with Xanana. He asked had they forgotten him.

They answered: We will never forget! He said: Then we can organise our comrades who have

surrendered to send information to the resistance. The women made links with other

clandestine groups in the city and towns and supplied fuel, information, food, first aid, soap,

clothes to the guerrillas. Messengers had great responsibility and maximum discipline.44

Maria Pinto said: Our fighters needed weapons. On the 10th

June 1980 we carried out our first

action in Dili. In our group were guerrillas, young people and me. We went into the Becora

military barracks and stole 284 rifles from the arsenal. We divided the weapons into assault

groups and made three attacks, letting the Indonesians know that we would win the war. We

39 Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 34, 36, 37; ‘Ruby’ & ‘Olinda’ in Turner, Telling East Timor,146-147.

40 Margarida Gonçalves in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 22; ‘Edhina’ in Turner, Telling East Timor,111.

41 Sometimes spelt Gorrety: Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood 6; Loney, ‘Women and Resistance in

East Timor’, 36 (including quote from Ines Almeida); Turner, Telling East Timor, 168-171.

42 Verónica das Dores in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy 42.

43 Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 39.

44 Maria da Costa Freitas in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 33-34.

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escaped to the jungle carrying weapons and ammunition in backpacks. Some of us were

captured, but I managed to escape. Three months later we returned to Dili to get information

but we were betrayed. The Indonesians surrounded and arrested me. I had a pistol, a lot of

documents and two letters. I chewed up the letters and swallowed them, so the military would

not find our links. the pistol and documents were in my pockets, so when friends were

brought to the building, I asked them to throw them into the lagoon before I was searched. I

was sentenced to thirteen years in prison. I was not happy, but war could cause this situation

anywhere, not just in Timor-Leste.45

Verónica used to walk around her town to learn where the enemy were posted: We greeted

the troops: Good evening sir, we are looking for food. The soldiers would answer: Evening,

evening. Fretilin are all dead. We answered: Yes they’ve all died, sir! I drew a map with the

location of all the military posts and put it in the postal service hole. Even if guerrillas were

far away they would come back sometime and get it. The sign I left would only be

understood by me and my contact. Different people had different code names, which

provided secrecy and maximum security.

In 1980 I took an oath. Falintil cut my finger, removed blood and said: Never betray your

nation, never betray those who work towards independence, never betray the blood and bones

of your brothers and sisters, never betray the cause. I moved to Baucau to live with my

uncles and observe the movements of the military. I met with Falintil in the night to pass over

information. I never told my uncles what I was doing. I was given a letter to deliver to the

Bishop in Dili. I sliced off the padding in my bra and put the letter inside then stitched it up

again. I didn’t wash the bra for the months it took me to get the letter to the bishop.

I finally made it to Dili and went to my brother’s house. I was afraid to ask him where the

bishop’s residence was, because he might become suspicious. My sister-in-law wouldn’t let

me stay because I’d been in the jungle (she was scared they would get into trouble). She

wouldn’t even let anyone feed me. That night I used banana leaves for a mattress, because

she locked me out. When the neighbours fed scraps to their pigs, I ate them and I drank water

from the river.

I found the Bishop’s house and joined the queue for confession. When it was my turn, I knelt

down and whispered: Father, I’ve brought a letter from Falintil. The bishop took me to his

lounge room and I had to tell him that I needed scissors or a razor blade to get the letter out.

After I handed it over, the bishop wrote a letter in reply and a few days later I was able to get

it to the guerrillas. Mission accomplished. 46

Many women made Fretilin badges and flags, smuggled food, hid guerrillas, cooked for them

and treated their injuries. One woman’s husband was a soldier in the Indonesian army and

stole uniforms, boots and guns which she helped to smuggle to the resistance fighters. Some

women had contact with the guerrillas for years without their husbands’ knowledge..47

There were more subtle ways of resistance as well. Rosa was a lively city girl involved in

underground politics. Her boyfriend was co-owner of a motorbike known as Lightning,

45 Mária de Fátima Pinto in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 74-76.

46 Verónica das Dores in Sequeira & Abrantes, Secrecy, 43-46.

47 Maria Madelina dos Santos Fatima and Maia Reis in Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 34 and 35 resp.;

Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 28.

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painted in the colours of the Fretilin flag, and Rosa loved to ride on the back. If there were no

military around Timorese would call out ‘Viva’ and ‘Freedom’ as they rode past. If there

were military nearby the bikeriders would be directed down another street.48

In 1990, the American ambassador John Monjo arrived in Dili for an official visit. Céu vividly

recalls Dili university students standing on the second floor veranda of the hotel Turismo

throwing rocks and sticks, and Indonesian troops threatening to shoot them. The ambassador

arrived in a convoy of cars. Three Timorese women on a megaphone were shouting that they

wanted to take the ambassador to the jails to see the truth. The military quickly got Monjo back

into the car. Demonstrators were grabbing the car windows and begging him not to go as they

would be in big trouble if he left. Monjo said: Protocol, I can’t be rude to my hosts. After his car

left, the young people were encircled in the street by the military. They fell into a pile as the

troops kicked them and bashed them with batons and rifle butts.49

Other women were in strategic places in civil and military departments. One typist in a Dili

military barracks released the plans that the forces had made for the expected visit of

Portuguese delegates in October 1991. She was arrested and imprisoned for six years.50

Remember November 12th, 1991, the Santa Cruz massacre! The killing fields are no more in

the rugged mountains alone. For us, the towns and the villages have become battlefields for

freedom.51

Elsa had walked with the procession from Motael church to Santa Cruz cemetery. When the

young Timorese were behind government house, the Indonesian army arrived. While she was

walking they kicked and punched her until she reached the cemetery. She didn’t care, she

kept screaming and shouting ‘Freedom, Indonesia out of East Timor’ and just kept going.

When she got to the cemetery, Elsa managed to run away. About 275 young people including

two females, were killed. Many of the bodies have never been found. When Elsa got home

her body was bruised all over because the soldiers had kicked her with their boots. Years later

she still could not walk, all she could do was sit hunched up and every day catch a taxi to

Motael clinic to get painkillers.52

After the tragedy of Santa Cruz, Micato’s husband was sentenced to ten years in prison in

Java because he was involved in organising the demonstration: The three years in the

mountains, and the education I received in a Catholic college, were the basis for me to be

sufficiently strong to care for my five children for eight and a half years without my husband

and his salary. The wives of political prisoners met many times to give each other mutual

support, and I prayed and recited the rosary.53

Laura worked for Caritas Dili and met people from rural areas who told her about Indonesian

military abuses. She translated the information and faxed it to Amnesty International and the

East Timor Human Rights Centre in Melbourne. A women’s group was formed in Caritas

which sent medicine and reports to the resistance and helped women abused by the military.

48 Céu Lopes Federer’s draft story Lightning.

49 Céu Lopes Federer in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 6.

50 Felismina da Conceição dos Santos in Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 22.

51 Lighur, ‘A message to the Beijing Conference from East Timorese Women’.

52 Elsa Viegas referred to in Luisa Ferreira Exposto’s story in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 190.

53 Domingas ‘Micato’ Alves in Conway, (ed.), Step by Step, 84-85.

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An organisation called Fokupers emerged from this in 1997. Fokupers focussed on the

violence perpetrated by soldiers, but also organised shelters for victims of DV.54

The place where Mena lived in Farol was near a military compound: My role was to pretend

to be friendly. I played guitar and sang, and ate with them, and they talked about their

activities. I wrote everything down to send to our brothers in the mountains. Every time I

visited I wore large shirts, and trousers with long pockets and when they went out of the room

I managed to steal grenades and berets.55

Micato worked in the Indonesian Department of Industry, but was sending articles abroad

about the situation of women in Timor-Leste. Six Timorese women from the diaspora who

went to the 1995 UN Conference on Women in Beijing publicised a letter from Micato which

gave graphic details of the indignities suffered by women. The letter ended: We appeal to

you, as women, as mothers, as sisters and as wives, to speak and act in your own countries,

with all your capacity, power and strength, for the dignity and freedom of the people of East

Timor, for the dignity and freedom of all the East Timorese Women.56

In May 1998 Indonesia’s president Suharto was forced out of power in the wake of the Asian

financial crisis. The press in Indonesia became freer, and there was an increase in protests on

the Timor issue, both inside East Timor and Java. This time was known as Reformasi.57

Students at the University of Dili set up the Student Solidarity Council in mid-1998. The

young women organised their own subgroup GFFTL to develop leadership skills. When a

European Union delegation visited the country, the Student Council organised large rallies -

the female students made speeches and mediated when violence threatened.58

In August 1998 Laura represented Timorese women’s organisations at an Asia Pacific

Coalition for East Timor meeting in Jakarta: I made links with activists from Indonesia, the

Philippines and from Malaysia and it helped me expand my vision on how to struggle for

peace. (Many things that I already knew – how to mobilise, how to organise, how to hide

things and do secret things – I learnt from the church scouts.)59

There were thousands of Indonesian soldiers still in Timor, so in November 1998 it was

daring of the female students, with help from Fokupers, to organise an historic conference in

Dili on the Progress of East Timorese Women. Hundreds of women from across the country

(and a few foreigners) attended. Women gave public testimonies of abuse at the hands of the

military - imprisonment, rape, torture and the loss of loved ones. The conference gave

Timorese women more courage, enhanced international networks and resulted in a book of

stories Buibere which became a campaign tool.60

54 Laura Abrantes in Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 48-49.

55 Filomena Reis in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 215.

56 Domingas ‘Micato’ Alves in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 10; Lighur, ‘A message to the Beijing Conference

from East Timorese Women’, (Lafai Lighur was the nomme de guerre of Micato).

57 Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 73; Conway (ed.), Step by Step, xxviii.

58 Cristalis & Scott, Independent Women, 49-50.

59 Laura Abrantes in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 65.

60 Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 24; Conway (ed.), Step by Step, xix; Cristalis & Scott,

Independent Women, 57; John Land, ‘Testimonies of East Timorese women’, Buibere: Review, Green Left

Weekly, Issue #378, September 29 1999, http://www.greenleft.org.au/current/378p25b.htm.

http://www.greenleft.org.au/current/378p25b.htm

11

The contribution of Timorese women in the diaspora in Australia, Great Britain, Portugal and

Indonesia must not be underestimated. They worked in the international solidarity and

feminist movement. Also with churches, Amnesty International etcetera. They met foreign

delegates, participated in conferences and in most UN forums.61

In August ’91 Mica joined the clandestine National Resistance of East Timorese Students in

Java: It was very difficult to send out news from East Timor unless you sent it to students in

Indonesia, so we became a bridge, sending information to the diplomatic front, to human

rights activists, to embassies and to the international community. I regularly visited Timorese

prisoners who were jailed after 12th

November 1991. I disguised myself as a member of a

Catholic prayer group and visited every Thursday. The guards didn’t know I was Timorese.62

Sister Guilhermina was a nun in Baucau who made contact with Falintil. The Indonesians

became suspicious and interrogated her three times so her order moved her to Jakarta. There

she would receive faxes for Xanana, smuggle them into his prison, and relay messages out.63

Céu would travel overseas from Darwin to conferences and meetings and promote the cause

through radio, television and newspapers abroad, under disguised names: Our main aim was to

keep the resistance alive and strong. They had financial needs mainly. Everything could be

purchased in Timor as long as you had money. And we provided them with accurate

information about what was going on outside in relation to East Timor and how the

international solidarity groups were working. Also it was important to provide help to Xanana

in prison in Jakarta and through him help the Indonesian pro-democracy groups as well as the

Timorese student groups.64

Cesarina Rocha’s activism in Darwin

I was 3 months old when I arrived in Darwin, Australia in 1975, with my mother, my brother

who was five and my other brother, just turning two. My father was left behind but later

joined us. That in itself is another very intriguing story and I hope you will read about it in

Jude’s book Step By Step.

My earliest recollection of being aware that I was not from here must have been when I was

about 4 years old, I vaguely remember asking my mum about East Timor and my mother

telling me we couldn’t go back there because there was a war, I recall asking if we were

winning, but I don’t recall anything more.

My first taste of the politics to do with East Timor was as a very young person, my parents let

me come to Sydney from Darwin, with my late aunt Teresina, to visit family. It was my first

real experience of seeing adults responding with passion towards principle. My aunty Alda,

in Sydney was very much involved in politics, more so with Fretilin. She took me to my first

demonstration in Canberra, outside Parliament House, and a gathering where people were

practicing singing a Timorese song called Koleilei Mai to record with Peter Garrett. I

61 Alves, Abrantes & Reis, Written in Blood, 26.

62 Mica Barreto in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 125, 128.

63 Sister Guilhermina Marcal in Cristalis & Scott, Independent women, 70.

64 Céu Lopes Federer in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 7-8.

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remember a musician and long term East Timor activist Martin Wesley-Smith was also there

with a guitar helping out. Little did I know, at the time that his older brother Rob Wesley-

Smith, in Darwin would, in years to come, be so formative in my political life as an East

Timor activist friends.

My involvement in East Timor grew more when I was at University. I remember quite well

the pivotal events which lead to my activism. I was walking past the University auditorium

one afternoon and I saw some Timorese dancers there. They then announced there was going

to be a film shown in the auditorium called Death of a Nation, by John Pilger, so I went in

and watched the film and came out a lot more aware. They announced there was going to be

a demonstration the next day so I went. That’s where I met Rob Wesley Smith and a lot of

other East Timor supporters. I met Veronica Pereira there as well (Veronica is an East

Timorese Elder, in the Darwin community), and she asked me to learn about East Timor and

the culture and what was going on there and so I ended up becoming more involved with the

Timorese cultural group, dancing group, and the Tetum (East Timor language) school as

well as the politics.

I became involved in all levels of activism, from letter writing to street protests, from

meetings to national and international gatherings. With Australians for a Free East Timor, I

remember candlelight vigils during Dili massacre commemorations and a sit-in at the

Indonesian consulate.

I liked it more when we did street theatre with other Timorese activists. I recall one time I

played a Timorese who was attacked by ninjas. We were trying to highlight the fact there

were violent ninja groups in East Timor. Black hooded ninja gangs were established by the

head of Kopassus, Suharto’s son-in-law, General Prabowo, in the early 90s. They tortured

and murdered suspected clandestine. We wanted the Australian government to do something

about it. In our street theatre I played the part of a Timorese woman who was pregnant and

ninjas came and tied my husband up and attacked me. They were supposed to rape me but

Veronica ran in early and started getting into them with her handbag! That’s the lighter side

of my activist adventures.

My experiences outside of Australia included the time I was selected for the first Youth

Conference in South Korea in 1996. It was a last minute request for me to represent East

Timor’s aspirations as they couldn’t get anyone from inside Timor out to participate. I would

have to wake up at sunrise to go to live TV for interviews, it was an overwhelming

experience. Koreans hadn’t heard much about what was going on in East Timor, and it

shocked them. There were people from all over the world but I was the only Timorese. There

were three or four Indonesians, they didn’t know how to react to me. We took the opportunity

to nurture a good friendship and solidarity. We were able to relate and they agreed their

government had to change.

13

In 1998 I was working with the East Timor International Support Centre in Darwin and they

asked me to go to Portugal for the Jornadas de Timor conference. I thought the conference

was a waste of money and was going to write to the organizer and tell him I didn’t want to

go, and could he send the cost of the fare to East Timor. I ended up going and tried to make

them consider how better they could use the money rather than having conferences where

delegates stayed in fancy hotels. Timorese youth in Portugal attended who had recently

jumped embassy walls in Jakarta, and Timorese from all over the place like Ireland and

London. It was good to be networking and getting their perspectives. I hoped to represent a

perspective of a young Timorese who had grown up in Australia and to have the youth voice

taken more into consideration, not just the class of ’75 clique, who today still dominate the

political scene. Also women’s participation in decision making and their role in the struggle,

they were the two main points of view I wanted to get across. There were a lot of strong

women there from inside and the diaspora, and I had the feeling it was the beginning of the

women’s push in the East Timor movement. They were asking to be given time to speak, and

questioning why were all the speakers male?

There were also dark days. After the results of the referendum for Independence was released

in 1999, East Timor was punished for voting ‘the wrong way’ with a majority voting in favor

of independence. For me it was a hard time, to watch East Timor burn, to hear about

massive retributions, and then see the UN pulling out their staff from East Timor. I remember

sitting in the Indonesian consulate singing We Who Believe in Freedom Cannot Rest and

being dragged out carrying a daffodil. I wanted to give the impression I wasn’t there as a

threat.

During a protest march, we passed the UN Office in Darwin city, my colleagues and I

lowered the UN flag to half-mast. Two UN guys were trying to make statements, but the

protestors kept interrupting. One of the journalists told them to be quiet, it was a media day. I

roared down a camera: The UN has been talking for 24 years. They’re washing their hands.

And how can they justify this when in Kosovo they never asked for permission and the

Indonesian government is there illegally anyway. How can they ask for permission? This is

hypocrisy.65

Cesarina was commenting on the United Nations waiting for Indonesia to give permission

before Australia could send in an international force to help the Timorese. Her outcry was

reported on CNN and I have been told on film it is heart wrenching.

I will end this talk with Micato’s words: Seeing the planes of Interfet fly overhead and land at

Dili airport, I screamed with emotion. The time had finally come. The cycle of suffering had

ended. All the loss we suffered and all the people who died was the price we paid for

independence.66

65 Cesarina Rocha’s contribution to the International Women’s Day talk was mainly taken from her story in

Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 95-104.

66 Domingas ‘Micato’ Alves in Conway (ed.), Step by Step, 86.

14

Bibliography

Alves, Maria Domingas Fernandes, Laura Soares Abrantes & Filomena B. Reis (eds). Written in Blood, Dili:

Office for the Promotion of Equality, 2003.

Conway, Jude (ed.). Step by Step: Women of East Timor, Stories of Resistance and Survival, Darwin: CDU

Press, 2010, 125.

Cristalis, Irena & Catherine Scott. Independent women: the story of women’s activism in East Timor, London:

Catholic Institute for International Relations, 2005.

Land, John. ‘Testimonies of East Timorese women’, Buibere: Review, Green Left Weekly, Issue #378,

September 29 1999, http://www.greenleft.org.au/current/378p25b.htm.

Lighur, Lafai. ‘A message to the Beijing Conference from East Timorese Women’, 6 September 1995.

Loney, Hannah. ‘Women and Resistance in East Timor’ History honours thesis, University of Melbourne, 2010.

Sequeira, Beba & Laura Abrantes (eds). Secrecy: The Key to Independence, Dili: Asia Pacific Support

Collective-Timor-Leste, 2012.

Sequeira, Beba & Laura Abrantes, Segredu: Xáve ba Ukun Rasik-An, Dili: Asia Pacific Support Collective

Timor-Leste, 2008.

Turner, Michele. Telling East Timor: Personal Testimonies 1942-1992, Sydney, UNSW Press, 1992.

http://www.greenleft.org.au/current/378p25b.htm

How East Timorese Women Contributed to their Struggle for Independence

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