By: Penjaga Dusun Adat Bumi Cenderawasih
That morning, the sun was still shyly greeting the Yahukimo mountains. The dew had not yet evaporated from the leaves when the sound of screams pierced the silence. Rosalina Rerek Sogen, a mother from afar, should have been arranging her dreams on the blackboard of her small classroom. However, fate seemed to have a different story to tell — a story written in blood and tears.
She lay motionless, surrounded by endless wailing. This was not the first time Papua had wept like this. Who knows why, it seemed it would not be the last either. In a land rich with green paradise, violence repeated itself. Ten victims became silent witnesses to how life had become nothing more than a number on paper.
Rosalina, a teacher who brought hope, returned home in silence. Three were seriously injured, four others were lightly injured, while two others survived with shattered souls.
Accusations That Devour Sanity
They called it “intelligence.” They accused them of being “military agents.” Ah, how cheap words can be. These accusations were born from blind hatred, without foundation, without evidence. The KKB called the teachers and medical personnel disguised enemies — a lie repeated until it seemed like the truth.
In reality, they were nobody but guardians of the dreams of Papuan children. They came without camouflage uniforms, only with white uniforms of hope. They came without weapons, only with pens and stethoscopes in hand.
There was no military involvement here. There were no state secrets they carried. Only a sincere determination to educate and heal the children in the land of paradise.
However, in the lies created by fear, brutality found its way.
Faceless Enemies
What is an enemy? Who is an enemy? Where is the enemy? Why are they called enemies? The deeper this question is dug, the more obscure the answer becomes.
Is a teacher who teaches letters and numbers an enemy? Is a nurse who dresses wounds a threat? If so, perhaps the enemy is no longer about who. Perhaps the enemy is the hatred born from old wounds. Perhaps the enemy is the ignorance that refuses to seek knowledge.
But why must life be the price? Why must a mother from afar return home in a coffin? Why must children lose their teacher’s smile?
How Many More Lives Must Go?
The Regent of Yahukimo, Didimus Yahuli, with a trembling voice, rejected these accusations. He swore on the name of humanity — they were not spies. They were civilians who had served since 2021. He was even willing to resign if proven otherwise.
But is there a voice loud enough to stop the bullets? Is there enough tears to extinguish hatred? How many more teachers must return home in silence? How many more coffins must be sent to their hometowns? How long must we keep asking, “Until when?”
This Is Not Just News
This is not just a morning news report that will soon be forgotten. This is not just a number summarized in a report. This is a grief that clings to the earth. This is a wound that continues to gape in the heart.
Grief for the families who lost their final embrace. Grief for the children who lost the warm voice in the classroom. Grief for the community that continues to live in the shadow of fear.
Farewell, Rosalina Rerek Sogen. Thank you for spreading light in the easternmost part of Indonesia. Your dedication will continue to live in the laughter of the Papuan children you loved.
May this be the last. May no more blood stain the Land of the Bird of Paradise. May no more tears fall due to faceless hatred.”
