Few people are remembered and honored both at home and by other nations
for their great service and dedication. Ade Rostina Sitompul, 73, who
passed away on July 8, is one such person.
Ibu Ade, as she was
universally known and called, was a spirited human rights defender and
activist for Indonesia and Timor Leste. An activist — she argued when I
interviewed her in Dili in August 2009 — should uphold the universal
values of humanity. Protesting against violent sectarian acts, she said,
“people should not look at origin or religion.”
The first time I met her was at a gathering in Jakarta of Yayasan Hidup
Baru (New Life Foundation), concerned with the fate of former prisoners
and victims of the great 1965 tragedy. A glimpse at her expression and
listening to her stories were enough to recognize that this was a woman
of principle with strong determination. That was in the early 1990s.
The
1990s were, of course, years when the world belatedly became aware of
the tragic plight of the Timorese under Indonesia’s military occupation.
It was a time of worldwide campaigning against Indonesia’s
claims to her neighbor Timor Leste. For most Indonesians, suffering as
they were under Soeharto’s repressive regime, Timor Leste was a
sensitive issue. Yet, given all the state secrecy, the issue was little
known among the general public. That made the already difficult work of
the then Indonesian solidarity and pro-democracy activists even more
complicated and dangerous.
A tough yet tactful fight was
required to overcome these challenges. The best evidence of this was Ibu
Ade’s daring activism. She worked with church-affiliated organizations
and coalitions of human rights NGOs. As soon as she started visiting
prisons and prisoners’ families, organizing advocacy, mobilizing
funding, expanding networks and researching rights cases became part and
parcel in her life.
In doing so, she became conscious in the
aftermath of the St. Cruz massacre in Dili in late 1991 of the broader
dimensions in her self-appointed job and the significance of the issue.
“Every time I visited [prisoners’] families in villages, they kept
looking outside. Clearly they were very uncomfortable. They usually said
soon after being visited by foreigners, ‘the military came and
interrogated us.’”
The East Timorese lived permanently in fear.
“This is definitely a far cry from what Jakarta said [about
integration].” Ibu Ade concluded that their rights should be respected.
Soon she was able to collect 200 names of victims from among those
massacred and their parents’ names and addresses; all this in stark
contrast to then vice president Try Sutrisno’s announcement that there
were only “19 deaths and 91 wounded”. (The figures appeared to be a code
composed of the year of the event: 1991). A Portuguese NGO later
established that the number of St. Cruz victims exceeded 300.
“This
[kind of work and the lies told about Timor Leste] reminds me of my
childhood. When I was eight years old I often joined my father’s courier
running from one village to another to convey messages to those who
fought against the Dutch.”
“Then I became very curious about
Timor Leste,” said Ibu Ade. “It made me closer to the people. And I told
everyone [what the Indonesian military did] was simply an invasion. I
may be a traitor in their view, but human rights activists should not
look at religion, ethnicity or nations.”
In other words, being
patriotic is not the same thing as simply being nationalistic; morality
goes beyond the state and state boundaries. While she might not have
said so, Ibu Ade proved herself to be both patriotic and nationalistic —
not by claiming to be so, but in practice.
Unfortunately, that
practice — and her achievements — is little recognized by governmental
institutions. In contrast, her work has long been completely
acknowledged by her colleagues and friends at home and abroad.
In
1995 she won the Yap Thiam Hien Award and on Aug. 30, 2009, on the 10th
anniversary of Timor Leste’s independence, she was among the very few
Indonesians who were honored with one of the highest national awards
from the state of Timor Leste for her humanitarian work.
Perhaps,
she was even better known and deeply beloved abroad than at home.
“Timor Leste Lakon Inan Diak Ida” (Timor Leste Lost a Good Mother) was
the headline of a Dili paper, quoting parliamentary speaker Fernando de
Araujo, a former Cipinang prisoner who came to Jakarta to pay homage.
Timorese thank her for what she did and would like to remember her, as
one Timorese poem put it, as “Sang Bunda Pahlawan” (The Heroine Mother).
Both President Susilo Bambang Yudhoyono and Prime Minister Xanana
Gusmao sent flowers.
But Ibu Ade’s activism had not merely
focused on Timor Leste. A relentless rights defender, she worked for
victims of violence in Aceh and Papua as well as other issues. Of late,
she had joined Setara and was investigating sectarian violence.
But,
she always remained modest. “I’m proud of the friends that I work with.
It’s a collective job.”
The last time I met her was at a book
ban demonstration in Jakarta last year. I caught her contemplating
silently for a few seconds as she stood before a model of an empty
prison, a seemingly symbolic moment for such an activist and fighter.