By Arafat Nur
During that period, the rebels were amassing power overseas. Some went underground for training in Libya. Others smuggled weapons to Aceh and buried them in the jungles or farmland.
They were the youths who believed they could rebel against the central government in Jakarta under the regime of Soeharto, who had already brought much suffering to his people. His oppression and injustice not only targeted the people of Aceh, it was also inflicted on many segments of our society.
How could it be possible for a nation rich in natural resources — including crude oil and natural gas — to be forced to live in poverty?
“Now it’s time for us to rise and fight. Take what is rightfully ours. We can live prosperously and in dignity by taking charge of our own land. Long live the fighters,” shouted Arkam. His face was tense and red.
“Long live the fighters,” the crowd answered, shaking their fists in the air. “Long live Aceh. Allahu Akbar. God is The Greatest.”
Arkam was Ibu‘s brother. At that time, my mother’s brother was in his thirties. After he stayed in Malaysia for six years, he joined a military training camp in Libya for another year. Now he was back, looking taller, his raised cheekbones accentuating his taut expression. His mustache was still thin. Apparently, he had developed a habit of wearing a red cap. (http://dalangpublishing.com/your-stories)