Lesley McCulloch, Melbourne – The message came via satellite phone. The caller was out of breath and desperate: 15 civilians shot dead by the Indonesian military, including two children. The location: the village of Tutut Sungaimas, West Aceh. The date: July 19.
It was 10am on that Saturday when the military arrived at the village to look for members of GAM (Gerakin Aceh Merdeka, or Free Aceh Movement), the armed separatist movement operating in Aceh. A gunfight followed in which one government soldier and three members of GAM were killed. The military then left the village and the locals began to collect the dead, and to attend to the wounded. According to the source, about half an hour later, the villagers were relieved to see an ambulance arrive. Their joy was short-lived, for this was no ordinary ambulance – several soldiers jumped out and began shooting randomly. Fifteen were killed, including two children. All of them were unarmed civilians.
Two days later, on July 21, tanks arrived at the village of Alu Rambok. Without stopping to collect belongings, the villagers ran to the forest. The locals watched from their hiding place as Indonesian soldiers went systematically from house to house helping themselves to valuable items including electrical goods. Three motorbikes were also stolen that day. Not yet brave enough to return to their houses, the villagers cannot confirm how much of their belongings were taken. They continue to live in the forest, fearing that the military will return to the village resulting not only in loss of property, but loss of life. It is usual for the military to loot houses and shops and leave little behind; it is even more common for them to kill, arrest and rape while on a looting spree.
Of more worry than this looting incident is the disappearance of an unknown number of families from Kuala Batee and neighboring villages on July 20. Locals say more than 20 Indonesian military trucks toured the area rounding up families whom they alleged were members or supporters of GAM. When the trucks left Kuala Batee there was said to be a total of 70 women and children and an unknown number of men on board. But where are these trucks now? The fate of these people was still unknown late last week and local people feared for their lives.
In the little media coverage there is of the conflict in Aceh, the province's west is rarely mentioned. This is not because the war has not reached this remote area, but rather because information is not available. Even before the declaration of martial law in Aceh on May 19, the west was a silent and dangerous corner of Aceh. There is no mobile-phone network in west Aceh and except in two or three main towns, there is no land-line facility. Internet access has not even reached the main town of Tapaktuan. The only contact is by satellite phone.
Of course, some will dismiss these reports of killings and disappearances because of the lack of verification. But confirmation is impossible in this area. Does this mean we should assume it is a sanctuary of peace and harmony when we know in other areas death and destruction is the daily digest of the local people?
We cannot confirm that 15 died in Tutut Sungaimas, nor can we confirm that 70 women and children were taken from Alu Rambok by truck together with many men to an as yet unknown destination. The exact numbers are of little consequence, but we can be certain the incidents took place.
Death and destruction in the villages of Aceh are matched by torture, fear and even death of those in detention. In the Polres (police) station in Banda Aceh, the provincial capital, the overcrowded conditions are compounding the agony of those arrested and suspected of being members of GAM.
One of the latest political prisoners is a university lecturer. Amdi (not his real name) teaches at the local Syiah Kuala University, but is now in a cell with 23 other inmates. He faces four charges, including treason. Amdi is facing a sentence that could mean he will spend the rest of his life in jail. In Indonesia, one is never "innocent until proven guilty" – he has been badly tortured by the police who want information from him. A senior intelligence commander, Captain Darmawan, and his assistant Sergeant Safrizal beat Amdi with a rattan can on July 18. A highly respected member of the academic community, he now has difficulty moving, and his back and hands are badly bruised and painful. Amdi will appear before a court driven by nothing more than politics and paranoia. There is little chance that he, or any of the almost 100 others held in Aceh on charges of treason will receive a fair and open trial.
The information about the conditions of the prisoners in Polres comes from a disgruntled police officer, ashamed of the system of which he is part. He has telephoned several times to pass on information about torture in Polres. He is worried that the level of hate felt by the police toward these prisoners is escalating, the torture has, he says, become more frequent and more intense. When he called two days ago, his voice sounded more distressed than ever.
He worries about the reaction of the police to the fact that information is getting out. The last time information was published about the prisoners in Polres, the following day police raided the cells – convinced that a mobile phone was being concealed. Of course, they found nothing. It is inconceivable to them that one of their own would open the door to the horrors of the everyday policing methods in Aceh.
With foreigners being kept out of Aceh and only local journalists embedded with the military able to report on the situation, news is scarce. Today, Aceh is a dark and grim province of horror, death and destruction. More than 1,000 have died since martial law was declared on May 19. While the world's attention is conveniently diverted by terrorism and other power play constructs, in Aceh's towns and villages, police stations and prisons, it is the innocents who continue to suffer.
[Lesley McCulloch is a research fellow at Deakin University, Melbourne.]