`Tens of thousands trucked out against their will'

Tuesday 7 September 1999, in the UN compound in Dili, East Timor

The gunfire and all the electric security lighting confuses the chickens, and a scrawny rooster usually crows sleepily on and off, from about 2.30am. This morning he was so insistent, that he confused me too. I rose and had a cold wash from a bucket near the toilet. Actually, the rooster is lucky to be here, for some strange immunity protects him from nearly 2000 hungry Timorese people scattered all over the UN compound - on the tiled exteriors to every building, in all the main halls, and under bushes and behind walls everywhere.

The rooster, at least, will probably not notice his danger. But then, perhaps neither do we. Still, I do not want to turn the lights on in my new office, so from the lighting outside, I read through some papers which have come in the night before. This particular folder concerns the UN Assistance Mission in East Timor (UNAMET) papers on the murder of Joao Gomez. He was a UN local staff employee on polling day only last Monday.

He was fatally stabbed by militia forces. He was sitting in a UN car, trying to hold the door shut. They forced it open and lunged at him with a six-inch knife. Before he rushed for the car, he had been trying to load the ballot boxes into the UN vehicles as the militia attacked the polling centre. .

The reports from the international staff present show that several times Gomez had come and warned that the militia wanted to attack, to kill local staff for helping in the poll. Two armed Indonesian police were at the scene when the attack took place. There is no evidence that they even drew their weapons. Apparently a murder inquiry is under way by these local police. But there have been no arrests, and we are not holding our breath.

On the day the poll result was announced, I interviewed the local militia leader from my office in Dili. He had come to UNAMET to warn that the UN must stop the count.

We talked first of his family and the weather, of life in his village, as I tried to look for his humanity. I told him that we had already looked into his complaints and found them without evidence. The allegation was that UNAMET had somehow coerced nearly half a million Timorese voters to opt in favour of independence. So, now on good terms, peace in our hearts, and with soft drinks in our hands, I told him that of course we could not possibly stop the counting of the ballots. He nodded, apparently in agreement. In fact, I said, a result had been reached. If he wanted me to tell him that result, I would do so and he would be the first Timorese to know, as it had not been announced . But first, I asked him to promise me again that he understood that this was to be a time of peace. He agreed, nervously. Anything. He wanted to hear.

A pause. I moved closer to him and held his eye. I told him. 78.5 per cent of Timorese had voted for independence. He was stunned. I reminded him of his promise, and held his eyes, sitting two feet away. He did not move. Then it broke. His number two grabbed his arm and shouted in my face "we fight!" and dragged his commander out of the door.

He meant it. So did all the other militia. So here we are at the compound, four days later. We cannot move except in convoy with armed escorts from Indonesian police, who will not take anyone back to hotels to collect stuff. The militia roam the streets at will, shooting mostly in the air. Dili is deserted. People are being killed, homes burnt churches attacked, refugees are being trucked somewhere, against their will, in their tens of thousands, we are told.

In the districts to the west, the UN has been trashed out of its bases, mostly under the gaze of the Indonesian police, abandoning trucks, computers, luggage. The few journalists still in Dili are in the UN compound with us, dirty and angry, mostly that they cannot get out to check what is going on. Anyway, so much for last night's papers, it was murder, watched by Indonesian police. Like many others.

I go outside and listen to the gunfire and am surprised to see that it is completely dark. I check my watch. It is 3 am. Time to call my wife. The children will be getting ready for school in Wellington.

Andrew Ladley teaches Law at Victoria University of Wellington. He is currently serving as legal adviser to UNAMET.