Abanner at the airstrip on Ambon, a tiny dot in Indonesias Maluku
island chain, quotes passages from both the Christian Bible and the Muslim
Koran calling for peace.
However, one looks into the charred face of Frendy Nunemete
and sees that peace is a concept far from being realized here in the cradle
of the Spice Islands, where Muslim-Christian battles have raged for nearly two
years.
Abanner at the airstrip on Ambon, a tiny dot in Indonesias Maluku
island chain, quotes passages from both the Christian Bible and the Muslim
Koran calling for peace.
However, one looks into the charred face of Frendy Nunemete
and sees that peace is a concept far from being realized here in the cradle
of the Spice Islands, where Muslim-Christian battles have raged for nearly two
years.
The assault on his Christian village happened quickly June
15. Village defenders immediately were overrun by attackers wielding automatic
weapons, mortar rounds and grenades.
As his brother fell dead from a gunshot, Nunemete climbed onto
a roof to hide. The attackers searched for him below, then tossed grenades into
the house and set it afire. To escape the flames, Nunemete dove into a large
container of water, which soon became unbearably hot. As he climbed out and
tried to lunge through the blaze, heat and fire consumed his flesh.
Three months after the attack, Nunemete speaks with Baptist
representatives in his hospital room.
His burned scalp is wrapped in gauze. Pink, puffy, scarred
flesh roughly resembles a face, most of which is burned. Gauze covers the cavity,
which once was a nose. His ears are charred, his eyes swollen and red –
with no eyelids to protect them. He barely can speak through a mangled mouth
and swollen lips.
“I dont know why they did this,” he rasps.
“I dont understand why we are being killed.
“Im just thankful to God that I am still alive.”
Nunemetes response echoes among many in the communities
of Ambon, where the majority of the population historically has been Christian
in an overwhelmingly Muslim nation. A battle has raged here for two years.
Muslim and Christian communities that co-existed peacefully
for generations now stand divided by sandbags and barbed wire barricades in
the road – and blood on the ground.
Explanations are few, and blame is rampant.
Outwardly, the world hears of Christians being slaughtered
by their Muslim neighbors. It is a religious “cleansing,” some say.
But by whose authority?
In early 1999, a dispute between a Christian and a Muslim sparked
riots on Ambon. Some allege the incident was a tripwire that may have been planned.
Soon after, Christians charge that militant Muslim leaders in Jakarta –
Indonesias capital – issued a call to arms for Muslims to “protect
their brethren from Christian suppression.”
Muslim jihad (holy war) forces poured into the Malukus by boat,
ferry and plane with shipments of arms and munitions to fuel their cause –
and support from elements of the Indonesian military. Attacks on Christian communities
commenced, sparking killings and retaliation by both sides. Thousands have died
– and hundreds of churches and mosques have been reported destroyed in
the islands.
“The jihad Muslim has gone through special rites and ceremonies
that supposedly give them protection from harm,” an Ambonese pastor explains.
“Dying in jihad gives them an automatic entrance into heaven.”
The influx of armed outsiders has put regional government leaders
in a difficult position. “Weve taken a passive approach because these
jihad Muslims came here to help their Muslim brothers (rebuild),” says
Saleh Latuconsina, governor of Ambon and the Maluku Islands. “Only about
10 percent of them have been militant.”
The Muslim governor says “cracking down on the people
who are organizing this would be counterproductive and would make the situation
worse.”
Is the conflict a religious war?
“No, no,” Latuconsina insists, pointing at his cabinet
staff, which includes Vice-governor Paula Renyaan, who is a Christian. “Im
asking the religious leaders to look inward at the false teaching that has led
to this.
“The easy way out is to blame it on religion.”
The governor says change must start with individuals, then
spread outward to village, city and district. But on the front lines, members
of the Christian resistance have a different perspective. Six militia leaders
from Christian communities slip into Ambon City by night to share their views.
Self-described “field generals,” each has hundreds of men and boys
ready for battle.
“Religious leaders from both sides talk reconciliation
and peace, but then the Muslims go back and organize more attacks,” one
resistance leader says.
“It is true some of the jihad may do social work,”
another says, agreeing with the governor. “But as soon as the call to arms
sounds, they pick up their guns.”
The people of Ambon, Christians and Muslims, can usher peace
back into their land – but only if it is island natives, the militia leaders
say. “The jihad must leave; the government force must leave. Let us work
it out.”
If not, then the international community must intervene, the
leaders add.
On September 25, the Christian community of Ambon City marched
in peaceful demonstration to the governors office, demanding that the
Indonesian government – and the world – acknowledge the slaughter
of Christians, most recently on the nearby island of Saparua. There, on September
23, 170 homes were reported burned in an attack by Muslim jihad warriors, assisted
by the military.
A reporter who witnessed the assault says it was well-planned.
Navy gunboats lobbed shells onto the beach and sprayed cannon fire in the ocean,
giving cover fire for craft carrying jihad fighters. Other forces who were camped
for days in the mountains descended in a coordinated assault. Destruction was
quick and thorough, the reporter says. The next night, angry Christians retaliated
by attacking a Muslim village on a neighboring island, burning homes.
As Ambon Citys Christian community sang “I Surrender
All” beneath the governors office on September 25, Muslim forces
attacked the village of Suli, killing more civilians.
Reconciliation must come, says Haji Abdullah Soulissa, president
of the foundation for the largest mosque in Ambon. “But its hard.
Ive lost two relatives in this situation. My house … was burned. A lot
of people have sakit hati (wounded hearts). Because of that, reconciliation
will be difficult.”
On this small island, once-flourishing communities are now
ghost towns – piles of rubble, charred beams and broken glass. Parts of
Ambon City considered relatively safe are littered with post-mob destruction.
An uneasy – and allegedly trigger-happy – government force patrols
the streets of an empty “no mans land” in the town.
In the midst of the destruction and ashes, Baptist relief workers
investigating avenues for work are putting faces to the conflict. They include:
Delores, 78, who fled as attackers rained artillery
and mortar fire on her village. With only a crude walking stick, she climbed
over a mountain to a safe location. She has lived for several months in a makeshift
refugee camp among hundreds of others displaced by the violence.
She weeps as she pleads for Gods mercy. “I just
want the chance to worship God, like before. I dont understand why this
has happened. Please pray that God will give me the strength to face what has
happened. We give thanks to God because he has not left us, even in our hard
times.”
Stevie Pattiwan, 18, who found himself defending
a university in June as government soldiers with automatic weapons and armored
vehicles arrived to level the campus. Pattiwan lost both of his legs after a
mortar exploded near him. “Ive lost a lot of friends,” he says.
“Im not sure how many. Im thankful to be alive.”
Just half a mile away from the governors residence, a
Christian community lies in rubble – mute witness to an attack instigated
by government troops, followed by jihad warriors who poured out of the mountainous
forest to torch the homes.
Standing in the wreckage of his house, a man states that his
life was spared because a Muslim friend took a chance to call and warn him the
mob was approaching. He had time to hide in the jungle beyond his community.
“Others were not so fortunate,” he says.
By the governors count, more than 20,000 damaged and
destroyed homes – both Christian and Muslim – need to be restored,
not including schools, hospitals and markets.
“Some children havent been to school in nine months,”
the governor says, adding that 78 schools have been destroyed. “We only
have provisions for about 5,000 new homes,” he points out. “We welcome
organizations who can come and help Ambon rebuild.”
Southern Baptist representative Charles Cole, who traveled
to Ambon to assess the needs, has assured the governor that Baptists in the
United States and around the world are ready to lend assistance to Muslim and
Christian communities alike.
All sides have welcomed the offer for assistance – but
they have offered words of caution as well.
“Wait until this is over,” a Christian leader says.
“If you come and build now, it will be burned down again tomorrow.
“The violence and bloodshed must stop.” (BP)
(To contact the U.S. Embassy in Jakarta, e-mail jakconsul@state.gov
or fax 62-21-386-2259. To contact the Indonesian Embassy in Washington, D.C.,
e-mail poldiv-kbriwash@erols.com
or fax 202-775-5365. For details on a Jubilee Campaign postcard drive – www.jubileecampaign.demon.co.uk/
– for Ambonese Christians, e-mail 100675.670@compuserve.com
or write Jubilee Campaign, Wilfred Wong c/o Ian Bruce MP, Room 201, Norman Shaw
South, Victoria Embankment, London SW1A 2HZ, United Kingdom.)