Grim Wait for Many E. Timor Children

When the gunmen arrived at her home in East Timor to burn, rape and kill, 8-year-old Maria ran in terror together with other children to seek shelter with their priest. Now she is looking after her two small brothers, ages 5 and 2 1/2, in a makeshift refugee camp with no idea whether her parents are alive, or will ever come find them.

Misery has masses of company among the 187,000 refugees in West Timor. Maria lives with 7-year-old Mariano, who saw a blade-wielding militiaman hack his brother in the head and another militiaman snap the neck of one of his little friends. In the panic, he lost his parents in the exodus from Dili, the territorial capital.

Then there is Efigenia, who is 22 and arrived with four little sisters, the youngest age 2. All she knows about the fate of her parents, who worked for East Timor’s Department of Education, is that they had been told they were on the militias’ “to kill” list.

What is striking about the refugee camps in West Timor is the dearth of men, who were often separated for slaughter, and of old people who could not run, the refugees explained. What is most haunting are the unanswerable questions in the eyes of the children who are camping alongside neighbors or strangers because one or both parents are gone.

Big Task Awaits Aid Workers

The U.N.-authorized peacekeepers who are landing in Dili to restore order and the small army of international aid groups following them face a huge humanitarian challenge. The agenda is lengthy, and the potential for failure enormous.

First, they must disarm the militias, and hope that the groups backed by the Indonesian military do not slip into the mountains, or disappear into civilian clothes to stage guerrilla attacks.

Some militiamen were pulling out of Kupang and heading to Dili today, but police, large numbers of demobilized soldiers from East Timor and militiamen could be seen in the West Timorese provincial capital.

A truck full of Red and White Iron militiamen wearing police uniforms with no insignia said they were heading for police headquarters in Kupang. The men became hostile when approached by Western journalists. They said they were fresh recruits, but an East Timorese taxi driver said he recognized their faces from Dili.

Tom Therik, rector of Christian University of Kupang, said: “The problem of East Timor is lying in West Timor. East Timor can be fine in a minute because the peacekeeping force is already there, but the tension is now in West Timor.”

If the militias are under control, international officials must next try to restore electricity and water, and distribute emergency food to hundreds of thousands of people.

Even if East Timorese can get back to their land in time to plant their rice crops in December, there will be no seeds left on the scorched earth to plant, aid workers and officials said.

The dry climate permits just one rice crop a year in much of East Timor. Although corn, cassava and some vegetables can be planted after the onset of the winter rainy season, these crops are inadequate to feed the population.

As soon as conditions stabilize--or perhaps before--the international community is likely to face a tidal wave of refugees flooding back from West Timor, where fear of retribution by anti-independence militias who reportedly control many of the refugee camps adds to the daily agony of refugee life.

First priority for the refugees in West Timor is to find their missing relatives. The International Committee of the Red Cross plans to set up its traditional service to help track separated families, an official in Kupang said. But given the continuing chaos, and the fear that many refugees have of being hunted down by their persecutors if they put their real names on any list, the process could be slow.

On Monday, the number of refugees was still swelling, with the expected arrival in Kupang of a ship carrying 3,000 East Timorese.

The government of Indonesia had expected that up to 100,000 people who wanted to remain part of the nation might cross the border into West Timor after the Aug. 30 referendum in which East Timorese voted overwhelmingly for independence. However, the influx swamped their preparations, said Gembong Priyono, director general for human settlement for the Indonesian Ministry of Public Works.

On Sept. 4, when the results of the referendum were announced, there were 17,271 refugees in West Timor. Then, according to the refugees, anti-independence militias in East Timor began a systematic campaign of burning houses, shooting or beating men with rifle butts, and chasing out women and children. By Sept. 12, Priyono’s data indicated that there were 112,243 refugees in West Timor. By Sunday, the official count was 187,623.

The big question for West Timor is how many of the refugees will return east. The Indonesian government says that all who want to leave are welcome to at any time, but local officials have also said they will give refugees three months to decide whether to remain and keep their Indonesian citizenship or get out.

It’s not clear whether or how that policy would be implemented. But independence leaders and human rights supporters fear that any refugees declaring allegiance to East Timor while still in West Timor would be sitting ducks for attacks by the very militias that drove them from their homes in the first place.

At the moment, the Aitarak and other militias prowl the road from Kupang to the East Timorese border.

Church Group Provides Shelter

Meanwhile, an unknown number of refugees remains in hiding, like Maria and her companions, who are being sheltered by a church group.

The independence supporters say they plan to send a few men back across the border as soon as possible to find out whether anything is left of their homes, search for lost relatives and size up the food supply. If the peacekeeping mission appears to be succeeding, they will return to fetch the women and children.

For those without their relatives, the waiting is agony. Maria, whose small size and reddish streaks in her black hair suggest malnutrition, twists a string around her feet and gives monosyllabic answers.

Augusta, a 25-year-old neighbor who is protecting Maria and her little brothers, along with her own three children, explained that her schoolteacher husband was not home when the militiamen came to set their house on fire. “I wanted to stay and wait for him first, but they said, ‘No, you just go.’ ”

She left the house with her children in the clothes they were wearing. There is no news of her husband--and no way to look for him.

“The election was free choice, so why are we being treated this way?” she said, beginning to sob. “What kind of freedom is this?”

At Mass and at prayer sessions, these devoutly Roman Catholic refugees pour out their suffering--in contrast to people in government-run camps, who tend to avoid conversations with strangers, according to aid workers. “It is good for them because they are in a place where they can freely talk--unlike many,” a nun said. “We listen to their stories because no one listens to them.”