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Prising Open West Papua | A Quaker-led Peace Pilgrimage to West Papua | A
Report to Quaker Peace and Legislation Committee, Australian Yearly
Meeting of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) and the National
Council of Churches in Australia | March 2015
Summary
In January and February 2015, eleven people were invited by West Papuan church leaders to travel
to West Papua to attend celebrations for the 160th anniversary of the Gospel arriving in the Land of
Papua.
The visit was conceived as a Quaker-led Peace Pilgrimage. We sought to build relationships between
the pilgrims who travelled and the Papuans we met. We also explored how Church people in
Australia might maintain long-term relationships with Papuans and accompany them in their
nonviolent struggle for justice.
In small ways, we hoped to help break down Papuans’ experience of international isolation. At the
request of our Papuan hosts and to promote open access, we travelled without a Surat Jalan (Letter
of Travel) from the police, and visited Biak, Jayapura, the Paniai highlands, and Manokwari and
witnessed the suffering of the people and experienced the repressive presence of the state security
apparatus first hand.
We wish to share our report with National and World Council of Churches members, encourage
solidarity and advocacy with the people of West Papua and strengthen the links between churches
in Australia with churches in West Papua.
Introduction
In January and February 2015, elevenpeople – six Quakers, a Mennonite, three Catholics and a
Methodist from three countries (Australia, the United States and Fiji) travelled to West Papua.
Officially, we were invited to attend the 160th
anniversary of the Gospel arriving in the Land of
Papua. However, the genesis of the delegation – what we termed a peace pilgrimage – was a long-
standing relationship the co-leaders of the pilgrimage had with Reverend Dr Benny Giay, the
Moderator of the Kingmi Church in West Papua. Two years prior to the pilgrimage, Reverend Giay
wrote a letter to two of the leaders of the pilgrimage. In that letter, he said that Church leaders in
West Papua feel as if they are “surrounded by violence” and “cannot escape.” Reverend Giay went
on to ask if outside people of faith could accompany the church in some way. That question stayed
with the co-leaders. It kept them up at night until slowly the idea of a peace pilgrimage to West
Papua emerged.
West Papua is located on the western rim of the Pacific. It is one half of the island of New Guinea.
The eastern half is Papua New Guinea, an independent state since 1975. The western half is West
Papua, made up of two provinces, Papua and Papua Barat. The land of Papua – which is another
name West Papuans give to their country that has been forcibly occupied by the Indonesian
Government since 1963. It is Indonesia’s Palestine, less well known by Australians but greener – 75%
of the mountainous interior is cloaked in rainforest – and much closer. From Boigu Island in the
Torres Strait, Australia’s northern most island, you can wade across to Papua New Guinea. From
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there it is a few days walk to the West Papuan border. West Papua may only be a swim and walk
away from Australia but it may as well be the dark side of the moon. The country is what journalist,
Mark Davis, called a ‘secret story’, hidden from the outside world by the vagaries of geopolitics and a
policy of keeping foreign journalists, human rights workers and even diplomats out.
Rev Dr Benny Giay was not being dramatic in his letter. Only a month before we travelled to West
Papua, four young people, some of them in primary school, were shot dead by the Indonesian Police
in Paniai, in the remote highlands. One of the young people had been savagely beaten by the army
the night before. He and his friends had been holding a vigil at a makeshift roadside chapel when a
car drove by without its lights on. The young people yelled at the driver to put his lights on. The car
stopped and soldiers hopped out and proceeded to beat the boy. The next day, on 8 December
2014, the boy’s friends went to protest the beating. When they arrived in town, they saw the car
driven by the soldiers. Angry, they started hitting the car. That is when the police opened fire with
live ammunition, killing four. Despite calls by civil society for a thorough and independent
investigation no action against the police had been taken. Joko (Jokowi) Widowo, the current
Indonesian President’s response has been tepid. It now seems that this will be one more example in
a five decade long list of cases of security forces impunity. It did not take much dialogue to peel back
a layer of fear amongst many of the people we talked to in Paniai.
These young people are members of Benny Giay’s flock. His heart – and ours – is breaking as he
struggles to respond to what seems to be a never ending cycle of violence and impunity. This is a
glimpse of the reality of West Papua and the context in which the pilgrimage took place.
In general, our purpose was to explore ecumenical dialogue – both between pilgrims and the Papuan
church but also between churches in Papua and the wider Pacific as well and to be a nonviolent
presence seeking to stand with Papuans in their desire for a just and sustainable peace. We met with
a range of Protestant and Catholic church groups – the GKI-TP (The Evangelical Church in the Land of
Papua), the Kingmi Church, Catholic representatives from the Office for Justice and Peace, students
from theological colleges and Catholics in the highlands. Pilgrims also had the great pleasure of
meeting with Reverend Tabita Havea, the Moderator of the Pacific Conference of Churches (PCC)
and Netani Rika, also from the PCC.
Our purpose was not just to
engage in respectful and
peaceful ecumenical dialogue.
Papuan hosts asked us not to
apply for police permission to
travel. We agreed to abide by
that request in order to
support their nonviolent
campaign to open up West
Papua to media access. But we
did not just want to test how
much political space we would
have, we desired to be an
encouraging presence to a
people suffocating under a
blanket of fear. In doing so, it
is important to emphasise that the visit was carefully negotiated with the people and communities
we met.
Above: Being welcomed to a village in West Papua
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Aside from visiting Mansinam Island, Manokwari where the 160th
anniversary celebrations took
place, we also travelled to Jayapura, Biak and the Paniai highlands. This report outlines the purpose
of the pilgrimage, shares some initial outcomes of the visit, narrates our experience with the security
apparatus and the effect this has on the people of West Papua and concludes with some
recommendations for the National Council of Churches in Australia to consider.
We would like to thank the Quaker Peace and Legislation Committee, a donor in Europe who wishes
to remain un-named, the pilgrims themselves and especially the people of Papua who hosted us, for
making the pilgrimage possible. We pray that there will be more visits like this.
The purpose of the pilgrimage
The pilgrimage’s four objectives were to:
1. Build relationships between pilgrims and Papuans;
2. Offer moral encouragement that in small ways helps break down Papuans’ experience of
international isolation;
3. Engage Regional and Yearly Meetings of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) in
Australia, the Catholic Justice and Peace Commission of the Archdiocese of Brisbane and the
Pacific Conference of Churches in learning more about West Papua and exploring interest in
advocating with and on behalf of Papuans;
4. Identify if Papuans and outsiders are willing to explore what it might mean to accompany
West Papuans in their nonviolent struggle for justice and to maintain long-term relationships
with a shared concern for nonviolent struggle, peace and justice; and if there is interest in
this aspect, exploring what accompanying Papuans and the nonviolent movement for
freedom and rights might look like.
Significant progress has been made on all these objectives. As organisers and pilgrims, we feel that
the visit has surpassed our expectations.
Some initial outcomes of the visit
Even though our visit
only concluded recently
we can already discern
some significant
outcomes:
• We were a
nonviolent presence and
source of moral
encouragement for
people looking for ways
out from under a
suffocating blanket of
fear. That
encouragement was
most visible in Biak and
Paniai where the weight Above: Morning in the highlands of West Papua
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of repression has fallen heaviest. Papuan human rights defenders and community advocates
told us repeatedly that our visit communicated tangibly that they are not alone, that
outsiders care about their plight. In small ways, our presence expanded – even if
momentarily – the political space for those we met.
• Our visit also contributed to eroding West Papua’s international isolation. By intentionally
not cooperating with the Surat Jalan system, we have made a contribution to the Papuan-led
opening up of West Papua to access by foreign media and international human rights
organisations(see below).
• We also helped contribute to village development. As part of the preparation for the visit to
the highlands, we constructed a toilet and shower block for the village. When the Nabire-
Timika road is sealed, that will make it easier for the village to open a small guest house for
travellers. Our visit, which concluded with a pig feast on the last night, was part of an
important cultural practice of exchange and mutual obligation through which wealth is
redistributed.
• The visit led to an opportunity for significant ecumenical dialogue between churches from
West Papua and other parts of the Pacific.
We all came away changed in some way. The friendships we made and experiences we had will
continue to resonate for years to come.
As pilgrims together in a momentary community, we also learnt much about ourselves and each
other. In very stressful settings, we tried to extend care and trust to one another. Even when we
failed and hurt each other, we were held in love by the group. The way we all tried to practise
fearless conversation, listened, sought to transform the ways we have internalised the forces of
empire, and extended forgiveness and mercy was an inspiration and a source of hope, even when
we fell short.
Prising open West Papua
In recent months, a rumour has been circulating within West Papuan civil society that police
permission is no longer needed to travel outside of the capital, Jayapura. For decades, access to the
western half of the island of New Guinea has been tightly controlled by the Indonesian
Government’s intelligence services, immigration, military and police. Foreign journalists, human
rights defenders, even diplomats – in fact, anyone considered meddlesome by the State – are all
required to obtain and carry a Surat Jalan, or Letter of Travel, from the Police. Officially, the
Indonesian Government wants to protect visitors. The Government’s line is that foreigners’ safety
and well-being might be jeopardised by Papuan guerrillas active in the remote mountains and
jungles.
In reality, however, the movement for freedom is overwhelmingly nonviolent. What the Indonesian
Government doesn’t want the world to know is how deep Papuan resentment of, and dissent from
Indonesian rule goes. Jakarta will, of course, deny that access to West Papua is closed for foreign
media. Such a policy position runs counter to Indonesia’s desire to project itself as a vibrant
democracy. Technically, the bureaucrats are correct. West Papua is open to foreigners including
journalists; one only needs to apply for permission. But West Papua is not Bali. It is Indonesia’s
Palestine, a police state at the neglected eastern periphery of a sprawling archipelago. According to
Andreas Harsono from Human Rights Watch, obtaining coveted permission requires approval from
no less than 18 separate government agencies. Navigating this maze can take months. More often
than not, permission is not granted. In theory, Papua is not closed to foreign media; in practice, it is.
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So, when a senior West Papuan journalist told us that foreigners no longer needed a Surat Jalan to
travel around West Papua, we were intrigued. With a new reform minded president in power, Joko
“Jokowi” Widodo, could this be the beginning of opening up foreign access to West Papua, including
journalists?
For two weeks, the delegation visited the north coast, highlands and the Birds Head region of the
land of Papua.
It was not without incident.
Visiting Biak
In Biak, we met with a
community of
survivors of State
violence, survivors
from the 1960s when
the Indonesian military
forcibly annexed West
Papua as well as
survivors from the
1998 Biak Massacre.
Our group was taken
to a meeting house
used by customary
leaders where we
experienced a
traditional welcome.
After a meal of taro, sweet potato, fish and greens we gathered in a circle, opened with prayer and
song and began to share stories. If we pilgrims close our eyes, we can still hear the children singing
“We are crying now, but the sun will set and the dawn will herald a new day”.
Perhaps it was only 15 minutes into our discussion when the local police, members of the
intelligence services and head of Immigration arrived. Our colleague Rosa and our local contacts
confronted the police with the kind of steely defiance many of us have come to admire in Papuans.
As Mr Yunanto, the head of immigration, spoke, Rosa changed the rules of engagement. After
ascertaining that the Immigration officer was from Yogyakarta, Rosa insisted he show some respect.
Speaking in a mixture of Javanese and Indonesian, Rosa told him, “This is a customary house”.
“When I am in the Kraton [the Sultan’s Palace in Yogyakarta], I observe your customs. Now, you are
in Papua, you must do the same here. Take off your shoes and sit down!” she said.
While this interaction happened at the entrance to the customary house, we were in an adjacent
room. Mindful that the experience of being raided by the Indonesian authorities might be re-
traumatising to some of those we were with, not to mention alarming to some of the members of
our group, we tightened the circle and moved into song. Sarah Thompson, a Mennonite theologian
with years of experience working in conflict zones in the Middle East, Africa and Latin America, led
us in an Indonesian and English rendition of a Sunday school song,”This is the Day”, replete with
actions.
Above: Surfing on planks of wood in Biak
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It helped.
Meanwhile, back in the entrance hall, the act of removing footwear and sitting on the floor shifted
the power dynamics of negotiations. The insistence by the police and intelligence officers that we be
immediately taken down to the station for questioning was rebuffed by Rosa and Sandra, our local
hosts. “This is a meeting with church leaders,” they patiently explained. “We are not going to
interrupt it.” Instead, Rosa put forward a compromise position - that four people would surrender
their passports now and, later that evening, those four plus an additional three would present
themselves to the Immigration Office in Biak City for an interview. (Seven was the number of
foreigners the numerically challenged authorities counted. We felt no compulsion to correct them.)
Above: Intelligence officers, police and the head of the Biak Immigration Office arrive in Biak to question us.
With an agreement now in place, the police, intelligence service and Immigration left. We continued
our meeting, but not for long; the atmosphere had changed. Afternoon shadows were growing
longer and we did not want people to travel home in the dark. The topic of conversation now shifted
to how survivors of human rights violations are treated by the state. A woman – let’s call her
Deborah – started to cry. “Now you see what we go through,” she said. “We experience this kind of
harassment every day. They beat us and tortured us, they killed our family. They can do what they
like, but we are being persecuted.” Louden (not his real name), a survivor of the Biak Massacre, told
us how that, after nearly 17 years, there was still no justice for the victims. A number had lost their
jobs or pensions because they had been active in the freedom movement. “We want to be free from
Indonesia!” Louden said simply.
We were all affected by that meeting. The survivors we met that day had been taken to the edge of
hell but they were refusing to give up on the hope that one day they would be free. We were there
to provide some measure of solace to them but it was they who encouraged us.
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Later that afternoon, we debriefed in our hotel. Most of the discussion was about the impact of our
presence on the Papuans we were associated with. We also discussed which three people, in
addition to the four who had already surrendered their passports, would go to the Immigration
Office and the approach we would take.
The agreement to go to the Office later in the day gave us much needed space to research the
regulations surrounding the granting of tourist visas on which we were all travelling. This allowed us
to insist that no permission was needed to travel to Papua. “After all,” explained Rosa, “when we
were in the Immigration Office, “all we are doing is visiting friends, attending places of worship and
visiting sites of interest.” We had broken no law. We were not working and we were not journalists,
the line of questioning Yunanto was most interested in. Rosa then pushed the point further. “Do I
need permission to visit Java?” she asked. “Do foreigners need permission to visit Prambanan [a
Hindu temple], Borobodur [a Buddhist temple] or even Indonesians in their homes?” Of course, the
answer to these questions is that there is complete freedom of movement and freedom of assembly
in every part of Indonesia with the exception of Papua. “We are still in Indonesia, right?” Rosa said,
urging him to articulate exactly why we were called in for questioning.
Although our passports were returned and we were released without charge, the situation had not
resolved itself. The next morning, Yunanto and one of his lieutenants was back at the hotel where
we were staying. They seized a copy of the hotel manifest. They then questioned Rosa further,
interrupting her breakfast and insisting that she now hand over her identification. Rosa refused to
do so. Thinking quickly on her feet, Rosa called Ruben Magay MP, a senior member of the Provincial
Papuan Parliament, to clarify the situation and to respond to Yunanto’s insistence that she hand
over her ID. In a conversation lasting 20 minutes, Mr Magay explained the finer points of Indonesian
law and the Indonesian Constitution which, in theory at least, guarantees basic freedoms. Rosa later
told our group that the discussion between Magay and Yunanto was rather one-sided. The
Immigration official was put in his place by an irate Magay. Rosa described the conversation as
consisting mainly of Mr Yunanto being silent, punctuated only by the occasional “No, Pak’
[Indonesian for Father/Sir]”,”Yes, Pak,” and “of course, Pak.” In an effort to end the intimidation of
our Papuan friends and to put the matter to rest, Peter, one of the Catholics in the group, phoned
Mr Yunanto and insisted that harassment of Rosa stop immediately.
The rest of the day we enjoyed unencumbered access to Biak’s beautiful beaches.
Above: Beautiful Bosnik Beach, Biak
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Visiting Jayapura/Port Numbay
Before and after Biak, we based ourselves in Jayapura (victorious city in Indonesian), the capital of
West Papua, also known as Port Numbay by West Papuans. There we had an opportunity to meet
with Catholic peace, justice and human rights defenders, with student activists and resistance
leaders. They spoke movingly of the way they are accompanying political prisoners, seeking to make
visible humanising values, and their hopes that the Church will stand in defence of Gospel values in
what is a very difficult and delicate situation.
Our meeting with students and nonviolent resistors was also very powerful. We met with
representatives from GempaR (Student movement for the Papuan People), KNPB (West Papua
National Committee), WPNA (West Papua National Authority), NFRWP (National Federal Republic of
West Papua), and Garda-Papua (Papuan Democracy Movement). These young people spoke clearly
and personally of how the occupation affected them and their aspirations for a free West Papua.
Members of KNPB shared that between January 2012 and January 2015, twenty-nine KNPB activists,
committed to nonviolent resistance, have been summarily executed by the Indonesian State. The
main perpetrators in these extra-judicial killings are members of Detachment 88, a counter-terrorist
group trained and armed by the United States and Australian Governments.
Visiting Paniai
But Biak was not the only place we experienced the repressive presence of the State security
apparatus. We also travelled to Paniai in the remote Papuan highlands. After the 8 December
killings, the situation was extremely tense. It now seems that this will be one more example in a five
decade long list of cases of security force impunity. It did not take much dialogue to peel back a layer
of fear amongst many of the people we talked to in Paniai.
Above: Church leaders gather to pray with Rev Benny Giay at a church meeting in Paniai
Paniai, much more than Biak, felt like the frontier of the Indonesian State. On the six hour drive up
to the highlands, we passed countless artisanal gold miners set up in tents on the red mud beside
the road. At the 100km mark, we passed through a military roadblock. A bored soldier illegally
collected a 100,000 rupiah ‘entry fee’ per car as his colleagues played volleyball in the field behind
the post. The military controls the trade of gold out of Paniai. Adjacent to the military post was a
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mural depicting paratroopers and other scenes of war. What would ‘mama’ sitting in the front seat
of the car think about that mural? She had lived through the sixties when villages in Paniai were
bombed and strafed by machine guns, sometimes using US supplied OV-10 Bronco bombers, C-130
transport aircraft and M 16 automatic weapons. During those years, Indonesian paratroopers were
dropped in their hundreds. The Indonesian soldiers thought they were liberating the Papuans from
the Dutch. For Papuans, White Dutch colonialism was simply replaced with Brown Indonesian
colonialism. Their country was handed over from one group of outsiders to another.
The sign above the military post boldly declared ‘warriors protect the people’. It is not clear what
‘people’ the words referred to. The mothers of the children shot dead last December certainly did
not feel protected. Underneath were the words ‘bravery, honesty and responsibility’. Amongst those
who work for the Indonesian State, particularly the security forces, these qualities are in short
supply. We all sank lower into our seats hoping that the black glass really was impenetrable to his
gaze.
While in Wadouw, the Mee language word for the highlands, we had the opportunity to attend two
church services. The first church service was at a Kingmi Church seminar where we were the invited
guests of Rev Dr Benny Giay. The church was packed, attended by approximately 600 people. People
had gathered to speak about the recent killings of young people and children. Both anger and fear
were palpably present in the room. There was also a search for nonviolent ways out. Reverend Giay,
in particular, expressed great appreciation that we had travelled to Wadouw to stand with his
congregation in their pain and suffering.
On Sunday, the following day, we attended a local Catholic Church for Mass. This was a deeply
satisfying experience, not just for the Catholics on our team but for the Protestants too. It felt like
Jesus was really present with us, and we with Him. We all noticed how the Catholic Church in Papua
has embraced the principle of inculturation enthusiastically. Mee language was used in Mass and
translated into Indonesian. When the offering was collected money was not the only thing that was
Above: The Indonesian military post and roadblock at the 100km mark on the Nabire-Timika road.
Each car pays 100,000 Rupiah sometimes more. Troops can be seen playing volleyball in the
background.
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given. People generously offered the fruits of their labour and produce from the abundance of their
land. This was presented in a traditional way, with dancing and chanting led by women in traditional
dress.
On the last day of our four days in Wadouw, a rumour circulated through the village that the police
had heard a group of foreigners were present in the village and that there was some kind of
gathering. We were told the police were on their way to talk to us. Our group quickly huddled and,
together with our hosts, talked through how we would respond. By this stage, there was a whiff of
adrenaline amongst our team. Perhaps we were getting used to this? The police did not show up,
but the rumour of their impending arrival provoked an intense discussion about fear, resistance and
the limits of the Indonesian State. Everyone was permitted to speak and a range of views were
canvassed. Our group sat on the dry bracken fern floor and kept quiet as the dialogue carried on in
Mee language around us. The only thing our Indonesia/English speakers understood was Indonesian;
words like ‘fear’, ‘police’ and ‘army’.
Outside our makeshift shelter, the rain hammered down.
When the discussion was over we feasted on pork, sweet potatoes and fern soaked in pig’s blood.
The food had been cooked by stones heated red hot in the fire, then covered with leaves. The entire
community participated - young people, men, women, and children. All had clear roles. When the
food was over some of the women took off their tops. For the sake of modesty they covered their
backs with a noken – woven string bags made from bark.
They then composed songs about our visit, chanting lyrics in the distinctive hypnotic style of the Mee
people while they danced bare-breasted in flickering firelight. Fear was punctured by grace. Light
streamed in through the holes, rendered visible as the smoke from the fire swirled around us. It was
a magical night.
Left: Preparing 'Bakar Batu'
(cooked stones) earth oven in
Wadouw, Paniai.
11
Visiting Mansinam
Our final visit in West Papua was to Mansinam, a small island off the
coast of Manokwari. We were invited guests for the 5th
of February
festivities celebrating 160years of the arrival of the Gospel to the Land
of Papua. The army, navy, paramilitary police and regular police were
all there. We even saw a man wearing a militia t-shirt filming the
thousands of guests.
The entire surroundings may have been decked out in red and white,
the colours of the Indonesian flag, but it felt like the decorations were
more a desperate insistence by the Indonesian State than an embrace
of a chosen present by the Papuans. The over the top nationalism and
the overwhelming presence of the security forces certainly did not
stop young people – migrants and Papuans alike – performing a
powerful play about the reality of life in Papua. One scene portrayed
an occupying army laying waste to terrified civilians, all played out to
the sound track of an Iwan Fals (a popular Javanese singer-songwriter )
pro-democracy tune.
As we hopped on the plane to fly 3000km from Jayapura to Jakarta, we
reflected on our visit. The State still fears journalists and access to
conflict areas remains
closely monitored, but
something is clearly
changing in West Papua.
Closing off Papua to
foreigners including
journalists is undemocratic.
It is also unsustainable.
Practically, in an age of
internet communication
technology, the
democratisation of
electricity through solar
power (even the village of
Wadouw had power), and
growing transnational
linkages between Papuans
and the rest of the world,
sealing off the territory is technically impossible.
But this is not the Indonesian Government’s only problem. Members of our church delegation
experienced less willingness – or perhaps less certainty – by the security forces to insist on special
permission to visit Papua and more willingness by Papuans to challenge the State’s authoritarianism.
The goal of open access has not been won, but the Surat Jalan system is clearly breaking down.
Above: A Papua man taking photos of the
audience at 5 February 2015 celebrations.
He is wearing a Barisan Merah Putih T-
Shirt, a feared Indonesian nationalist
militia group.
Above: young people perform a play at the 5th of February Military celebrations
depicting the reality of life in West Papua.
12
Above: Leading the offering at Mansinam Island church service, 5th February 2015.
Recommendations
We respectfully request the National Council of Churches in Australia to discuss the following three
simple and achievable recommendations:
1. Make this report available to NCCA member churches. If members would like pilgrims to
speak about their visit to West Papua, there would be a number of people willing to do
so.
2. Continue to strengthen links between churches in Australia and churches within West
Papua (Papua and Papua Barat provinces)
3. Forward this report to the World Council of Churches and accompany it with advocacy
on opening up West Papua to the international press and releasing political prisoners in
partnership with West Papuan churches.
Given this pilgrimage was an experiment in unprecedented solidarity work in our region, if
possible,participants of the pilgrimage would like to present this report personally to the NCCA
Executive.
Thank-you. May the peace and spirit of God nourish us all. May God give those of us who are
satisfied, a hunger for justice; and those of us who hunger for food, may God give us sustenance.
For more information please contact Dale Hess at [email protected]. This report was written in
consultation with fellow pilgrims.