The Timor Man. Kerry B Collison

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СКАЧАТЬ area spanning a radius of some ten kilometres. Wanti wanted to remain hidden a little longer but Bambang had convinced her that they must seek help from the army detachment billeted at Kampung Kawi just twenty kilometres to the north.

      Wanti had reluctantly agreed, insisting that they cut through the mountain forest to avoid running into the gangs. Her brother felt certain that the murderers would have moved in a direction away from the Army, not wanting to engage a well armed force.

      He discovered his error the following day when they almost stumbled into their camp. His fear was so great, Bambang felt his bowels begin to betray him again. He turned, grabbing his sister, and fled, not once looking back to see if they had been detected. They ran for what seemed to be an eternity, oblivious to the direction their legs carried them. They rested. Wanti complained that her feet were tired and sore so Bambang agreed to rest there through the rest of that day. They were hungry, and nearing exhaustion but still they couldn’t sleep for fear of being discovered.

      Bambang was not to know that this was not just one short spell of terror. Throughout the Archipelago, villages were raided and old scores were settled — the spark which ignited the countryside flared from home to home, village to village, town to town, and island to island until the number of dead blocked waterways and roads, corpses floating far out to sea where passing ships witnessed the bloated bodies by the thousands.

      Muslims killed Chinese; Balinese killed Javanese; Sumatrans killed each other; and so the madness continued until one strong man emerged to take the country’s helm and correct the savage course it had taken.

      The new leader, an unknown, acted quickly and managed to restore order. As the country’s leadership had been all but eliminated, General Soeharto assumed full control. He placed President Soekarno under virtual house arrest where he would remain for five years until his death, a hero in disgrace with few remaining followers.

      Bambang and Wanti survived the holocaust physically, but spiritually they became just empty shells. They passed from kampung to kampung begging for food, working when they could until they arrived in Jakarta, destitute. Without identification and, more importantly, a letter certifying their good conduct and noninvolvement in the abortive coup it was legally impossible to obtain employment. They found shelter on the outskirts of the city amidst thousands of other refugees who were camped along the canals, their homes also destroyed, many having suffered a similar fate to that of the young brother and sister from Kampung Semawi. Within months, their numbers increased until an outbreak of cholera convinced Bambang to risk entering the Capital in search of safety from the disease and constant violence now evident in the growing shanty town.

      Slowly they made their way through the outlying areas of Ragunan and Kemang, along the unsurfaced roads until finally they spent the night resting amongst the old tombs in the Pattimura graveyard. The following day they were chased by passing police but managed to escape. Bambang took his sister down to an area behind the Asian Games complex where many thousands were also camped, sleeping at night under the derelict military vehicles that had been unceremoniously dumped there when spare parts had become unavailable. There were many soldiers camped inside the sporting complex and, as Bambang spent time around their billet, some of the younger Javanese soldiers befriended the pair, offering them an occasional meal of rice and vegetables.

      As they became more familiar with their surroundings and less intimidated by the size of the city Bambang and Wanti learned to survive. As did another half a million itinerants who had flocked to the capital for safety. Many did not find the security they had hoped for as troops had inundated the city, bullying the terrified inhabitants.

      Time passed slowly as the city moved to recover from the terrifying year of civil war and its aftermath bringing an air of hope to those who had survived the slaughter, starvation and disease. A new government was installed. The years of undeclared war with the Federation of Malaysia and Singapore known only to the Indonesians as ‘ Konfrontasi ’ was declared over and quickly forgotten. The capital’s inhabitants breathed a sigh of relief as the Military gradually moved its tanks from the centre of the city to the outskirts and regular police commenced patrolling the suburbs in an effort to reduce crime. Law and order appeared to be restored. The New Order was now completely ensconced and the Chinese reopened their shops.

      Life had returned to normal in Indonesia.

      Chapter 4

      Magelang Detention Centre for Communist Detainees

      The screaming prisoner curled his body in the foetal position, in terror, pressed hard against the wall, holding his hands at first around his legs and then quickly up before his face to protect his head from the blows. The other prisoner lay groaning on the floor as the interrogator took his knife and swung the bladed weapon with the skill of a butcher, severing the man’s left ear and two fingers, cutting the soft bone and tissue with a quick slicing motion of the wrist.

      The prisoner remembered being struck. The severity of the blow brought him to his knees as the wind gushed from his lungs. He knew he should have anticipated the elbow to the stomach; Allah knows he had learned enough to understand the dangers of silent insolence; the failure to accept total subjugation at the hands of those in command at the detention centre for political detainees.

      These guardians of the malcontents, runaways, perpetual troublemakers and other lost souls were hand selected for their unswerving obedience and callousness. Mean and extremely vindictive, they vented their frustrations on the inmates, most of whom were guilty of no greater crime than that of ignorance.

      How many times had he already been struck? Twenty? Thirty? The pain was extreme. He dry-heaved momentarily then, agonizingly, dragged himself upright. His eyes were partly glazed but reflected the hate he felt for his new found jailers. His stomach heaved again. More blows. Then more pain followed by a vicious onslaught of kicks to the back and thighs.

      To his right were other custodians. He knew there would be no respite should he react to the guards’ onslaught. Obedience was the key and one might survive only if perceived to be subservient. Opposition was for fools and would be counter-productive. He knew this much. He had sufficient experience as an interrogator to appreciate the hopelessness of his situation. God how quickly the transition had occurred!

      Another kick. He groaned with the pain. And then another, this time causing him to fall again. He knew that he should not remain on the ground. This would only invite further punishment. His mouth was dry and his mind confused. He knew from the force of the blow that someone had kicked him in the head as he fought to maintain consciousness. Somewhere in the back of his mind he could identify what was happening. He had seen it before. He knew he had seen others struggling in fear, attempting to avoid the inevitable.

      But now there was something wrong. He was the prisoner and someone else was delivering the cruel blows! It was a nightmare. Next would come the interrogation. Followed by total submission. He knew. It had been his duty before; in another lifetime. Blood filled his mouth. He was losing consciousness again. Next would come the final interrogation and the ultimate loss of one’s self respect as he would be obliged to plead for his life. Total submission. The pain would far exceed the requirement placed on one’s honour and he would accept the inevitable. He tried to grimace but his jaw was broken.

      Honour! He wanted to scream. What would they know about Honour!

      Another dogma instilled during one of those courses — which one was it now, the Code of Conduct or the Interrogation Techniques Course? His chest heaved, convulsed, and finally slowed as he forced his mind to maintain control over СКАЧАТЬ