“On November 12, 1991, Indonesian troops fired upon a peaceful memorial procession to a cemetery in Dili, East Timor that had turned into a pro-independence demonstration. More than 271 East Timorese were killed that day at the Santa Cruz cemetery or in hospitals soon after. An equal number disappeared and are believed dead.
East Timor was a Portuguese colony for more than 250 years and then became an Indonesian province, before seceding in 1999. The people of East Timor now have their freedom and are an independent nation, but they have yet to see justice for decades human rights crimes inflicted on their people and country by the Indonesian military. No one has ever been prosecuted for the killings.”
Yesterday (November 12) was a national holiday here in East Timor commemorating those who lost their lives at the Santa Cruz massacre almost 20 years ago. Until last night, I had no idea of the significance of the day. I was simply told that it was a national holiday and that the clinic and schools would be closed.
As I was walking down the hill to the other convent for recreation time (dancing) around 8 p.m., I could see the street was lined with thousands of candles. I could hear shouting and yelling, but originally I could not see anyone. I stopped in my tracks. I didn’t know what was going on-a revolt? A protest? Should I continue on or go back to my room? I wasn’t on the main road yet, so no one could see me in the darkness. As the voices got closer, I could see most of the people were teenage boys and young men. They were shouting, “Viva (insert Timorese name)! Viva (insert another East Timorese name)! Viva Timor Leste!” I quickly put 2 and 2 together and surmised these people were not protesting-they were honoring those who had lost their lives on this day. I knew they must be a peaceful bunch. Suddenly I didn’t feel as scared.
I made my way safely to the convent. All of the sisters and pre-aspirants were standing outside on the driveway. They were watching the young people pass by. They said we would not be dancing tonight. We would be in solidarity with these people commemorating this occasion. After all of the people on the street had passed by us twice, one of the sisters suggested we walk along the road and pray. Everyone eagerly agreed.
4 sisters, 10 aspirants and myself walked together as a solemn procession. There were many large groups of people gathered together along the road, and they all fell silent as we passed. Two dozen young girls joined us as we walked and prayed the rosary together. We walked through the entire town, candles along either side of the road lighting the way.
I am not East Timorese, but I felt like one today. As we were walking, I felt an intense feeling of national pride. It’s the same feeling I get on September 11 or when the National Anthem is played before a sporting event in the U.S. Apparently you don’t have to be from a large, powerful country to be a proud citizen of your nation. Injustice, cruelty, and terrorism are problems faced by people all over the world. Despite this, I am willing to bet that you can always find people with hope for a brighter future, pride in their nation, faith in the Lord and courage in the face of adversity and uncertainty. I guess people all over the world are not that different after all.
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