2) Empowering People in West Papua
Moments after American pilot Alex Luferchek from Mission Aviation Fellowship (MAF) landed his small
aircraft at Kampung Pagama Airport in Intan Jaya regency of Indonesia’s Papua province on Jan. 6, he was
surrounded by 10 masked men with firearms.
He and his two passengers were forced to abandon the plane that was carrying daily essentials including food.
The goods were quickly unloaded before it was set on fire.
The attackers, members of the West Papua National Liberation Army, the armed wing of the separatist organization
Organisasi Papua Merdeka (OPM) or Papua Independence Organization, let the pilot and two passengers flee to
a nearby village.
MAF, an American-Christian humanitarian group, has been serving the hilly and rugged terrain of the conflict-stricken
Papua and West Papua provinces of Indonesia since 1952.
It reaches isolated Papuans with Christ’s love by supporting churches and mission efforts, saving lives through
medical evacuation flights, and creating access to community development projects, education and crisis relief.
MAF missionary families, with the help of close to 80 Indonesian staff, operate and maintain 11 aircraft from five
bases in Papua, according to its website.
Yet MAF has been accused by the mostly Christian insurgent group OPM of collaborating with Indonesian authorities
and has come under deadly attacks.
In May 2020, MAF pilot Joyce Lin died after her plane crashed into a lake in Papua soon after she took off to deliver
Covid-19 rapid test kits to a remote village in the Papuan highlands.
Investigations are still ongoing about the cause of the crash but rumors are rife that a suspected insurgent attack
was behind the accident.
Following the burning of the plane on Jan. 6, an OPM spokesman accused MAF of carrying Indonesian spies,
military and security personnel and accused missionaries of being agents of foreign capitalists.
"The missionaries are all agents of foreign capitalists who come as spies to destroy the natural forces of West Papua,
and finally Indonesia and America are free to steal our natural wealth," OPM spokesman Sebby Sambon was quoted
by the Aceh Tribune
"Therefore, we will not compromise because the aircraft always carry Indonesian military and police troops, and we
already know that.
"What is the pride of the missionaries? There is no benefit because God's people were killed by the Indonesian military.
These Western missionaries never put pressure on their country."
The attack on the MAF plane and the statement of the OPM spokesman spell new dangers for the Catholic Church
and Christian groups in the Christian-majority region of Indonesia that has been plagued by a pro-independence
armed insurgency since the 1960s.
In recent times, the separatists have been targeting the Church and Christian interests, presumably to draw more attention
from the West to the Papuan conflict.
In 2020, more than a dozen attacks on Christian interests were reported in the region. They included the killing of
Reverend Yeremia Zanambani, 67, of the Gospel Tabernacle Church of Indonesia in a village in Intan Jaya district
on Sept. 19. Both the separatists and Indonesian military blamed each other for the murder.
In other cases of violence, separatists killed motorcycle taxi drivers and security officers and opened fire on a
commercial plane with civilians on board. They have also been accused of holding people hostage for ransom and rape.
Rich mineral resources
This escalation in violence threatens the lives and livelihoods of ordinary Papuans who yearn for peaceful and
dignified lives and neither endorse the separatists nor Indonesia’s political, military and economic clout.
It’s a tragic reality that Papua has rich mineral resources but is one of the poorest Indonesian regions in terms
of the Human Development Index due to negligence and exploitation starting from Indonesian monarchies before
Dutch colonization in the 16th century and Indonesian rule since 1969.
Armed attacks are increasingly rife in many parts of Papua, while pro-independence public demonstrations and
clashes with security forces regularly rock major cities like Jayapura, Monokwari, Fak-Fak, Sorong and Intan Jaya.
Many Papuans still grieve that they were not consulted when the Dutch transferred the territory to Indonesia
through an American-brokered 1962 New York agreement. They continue to call the UN referendum of
1969 “a sham” as the Indonesian military appointed 1,025 so-called representatives who overwhelmingly
voted to join Indonesia in what was called “the Act of Free Choice.”
Even in 2003, when Indonesia divided the province into three parts — Papua, West Papua and Central
Irian Jaya — the authorities didn’t bother to consult the Papuan leadership, triggering further discontent.
As a largely Melanesian group who are socially and culturally distinct from the mostly Malay-origin ethnic
groups of Indonesia, Papuans have every right to claim independence, but violence for the cause is condemnable.
Since the 1990s, Indonesia has made some concessions to Papuans by granting more autonomy. The initial
enthusiasm soon died out and Papua continues to explode in violence as the root causes of the grievances
have been never been properly addressed.
Papuan activists and rights groups have accused Indonesia of committing gross human rights violations since
the 1960s, including destruction of villages and mass killings of villagers for supporting pro-independence separatists.
Amnesty International recorded more
than 69 unlawful killings in Papua from 2010 to 2018.
Moreover, little has been done to stop racism against Papuans in many parts of Indonesia.
Indonesia-backed multinationals like mining giant PT Freeport McMoRan have been accused of plundering
natural resources and the environment, angering ethnic Papuans who have always considered the natural
environment and forests as their scared communal territories.
The crisis also has an ethno-religious dimension. Ethnic Papuans, who are mostly Christian, allege that the
state-sponsored migration of conservative Muslims from other parts of Indonesia is a grave threat and a ploy for
cultural and religious hegemony. In places like Merauke, migrants now make up over 50 percent of the population.
Moreover, local Muslims are blamed for supporting centralized Indonesian rule.
Christians — Protestants and Catholics — find themselves in a complex situation amid the tug of war between
the separatists and Indonesian authorities. A significant number of Christians believe Papua has no future in the
Indonesian system, while another group considers the region an integral part of Indonesia.
While some Christian groups including Catholic clergy openly call for Papua’s independence, the church hierarchy
have been silent, although they deplore violence and demand justice for human rights violations.
Church leaders have failed to become a unifying force for Papuans and have not made concrete efforts to build
peace by brokering any official or unofficial deal between the feuding parties.
Some leaders of the Catholic Church have been seen as apologists for Indonesia who advocate a “100 percent
Catholic and 100 percent Indonesian” approach, which means they believe Papua is part of Indonesia.
It seems both political and religious leaders are turning a blind eye to the escalating tensions and violence in Papua
that can only get worse without any active engagement and redress of grievances.
The burning of the MAF plane is just another sign of how the conflict in Papua poses grave threats to anyone
connected with the region. There is every reason to fear that the yoke of violence and bloodletting in Papua will
continue to get heavier.
Rock Ronald Rozario is a journalist and commentator for UCA News based in Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh.
The views expressed in this article are those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the official editorial
position of UCA News.
A Maryknoll priest and volunteers work with the Asmat indigenous people in Indonesia
Ever since his arrival 40 years ago among the Asmat people of West Papua, Indonesia, Maryknoll Father Vincent Cole has had a clear mission to these indigenous people. “My job as a missioner is to promote a critical appreciation of their own culture in the light of Gospel values,” he says. “It all starts with our fascination with the Asmat.”
That means admiring their strength rather than trying to fix their weaknesses. Integrating Catholicism with Asmat spirituality has been Father Vince’s approach since he stepped foot on the swampy land of the Asmat on the western side of the island of New Guinea.
The church next to his house is a prime example. Instead of the usual Gregorian-style building, this church follows the shape of the Asmat traditional longhouse. Gathering material from the jungle, the people built their church in Sa-Er, one of 10 villages of Sawa-Erma parish where Father Vince is pastor.
Rather than stamping Roman rites on people who never heard of Jesus before Catholic missionaries arrived in this remote area after World War II, Father Vince collaborates with the Asmat in incorporating their reality into liturgical celebrations. For instance, he celebrates baptism in the jungle, where they spend most of their time. I witnessed a baptism.
Father Vince was hoisted on a stretcher paraded into the jungle with loud chants to welcome him as the representative of the Holy Spirit. The procession made its way to an area symbolising a mother’s womb. An old woman squatting inside the area made a humming sound each time parents carried their children to Father Vince, who baptised them with blessed forest water. The baptism was as close to a grand Asmat ritual feast as possible. The names of the 90 newly baptised were carved onto a wooden pole erected on the baptismal site.
Since 2015 the Maryknoll missioner from Detroit has been mentoring a group of young Indonesian volunteers who dedicate their lives to the Asmat people. Andreas Wahyu and Rosa Dahlia oversee the youth groups. Frans Nay is a catechist. Ignas Bri and his wife Elsita conduct social development projects and Yeni Kristanti deals with health. To volunteer in Asmat requires the strength of steel. Over the decades, many charity groups have come and left, giving up hope for the Asmat.
The history of the Papuans of Indonesia, of which the Asmat are a tiny fraction, has been about Indonesians trying to educate and modernise the lesser “tribe,” who lived in isolation with limited access to the outside world. Disenfranchised in their own land for decades, the Asmat now face losing their identity. The volunteers have joined Father Vince in helping the Asmat salvage their indigenous culture while adapting to modern life.
That is difficult for foreigners trying to introduce pastoral programs to people scraping by in a cashless economy. The volunteers look to Father Vince as their role model.
Rosa Dahlia recalls watching villagers going about their daily life when she had an important realisation. “I used to think maybe they needed my help,” she says. “But at that moment, I thought, ‘Rosa, you’re the one who needs them!’
“I don’t think some of our early programs touched their hearts. It’s our programs, not necessarily something they need. So, what is it they want, something they cannot do but want to try doing? That may be a point I could support and facilitate.”
It took three years for Rosa and the other volunteers to see positive responses to the projects they initiated, such as encouraging harvesting crops from local gardens and producing and selling artwork of Asmat weavers and carvers. When an elderly woman in the village offered the use of her home for Rosa’s activities with women and girls, Rosa said, “For me, it was a door wide open.”
Health issues present a huge challenge. In February 2018, the Asmat stole international headlines when measles, diarrhea and malnutrition caused the death of more than 100 children in Asmat villages. Malaria poses a constant threat. Since 2011, cases of HIV have been reported.
Recently Father Vince sent me a message telling me Paulinus Jok died of AIDS. Jok worked at the diocesan Justice and Peace office. He was a talented carver and helpful translator.
Yeni Kristanti is the volunteer tackling health issues. She is not a doctor, but a dedicated person whose life’s goal is helping people, especially necessary since there is no doctor within a 32-mile radius.
For Yeni, dealing with the HIV/AIDS pandemic is like putting together a puzzle in which new pieces keep coming out of the box. Yeni is always on the lookout for additional training and works with a village elder to raise awareness of HIV.
“The best prevention is if they are well-informed of the danger of HIV,” Yeni says. But HIV, she says, is not the biggest killer here. “There are more deaths related to hygiene, cleanliness, simple household matters, that really exacerbate every other life-threatening disease,” she says. “It’s unawareness that allows diseases to seep in.”
Meanwhile, Father Vince continues his work along with the six volunteers. “Any positive visible change in Asmat is part of a long process that will take generations,” he says. “We have to realise we happen to be very close to the beginning of that process. Because of that, it is not realistic to either expect a lot of visible results or to measure our worth in Asmat based on that.”
“I know for a fact that Rosa is having a strong influence, even though it might not yet be clear to her,” he continues. “People see that she cares. Every day she’s out among them trying to learn, respecting them and their culture. They feel loved and respected and to me that is what they need most at this time in their history.”
Joshua Irwandi is an Indonesian photographer based in Jakarta and a former staff member of the Asmat Museum of Culture and Progress in West Papua.
Reproduced with permission from Maryknoll Magazine.
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