West Papua - Oh, My Land Papua anthem

I'm back home in Australia, but so very touched by this update from WCC finishing today in Busan, Korea.
This article by Netani Rika, and posted on Facebook by Pacific Conferences of Churches. 

West Papuan delegates, WCC Assembly, Busan, Korea

Words failed me. As the strains of the banned anthem Oh, My Land Papua faded away and tears streamed down the cheeks of the members of the Papuan delegation at the World Council of Churches 10th Assembly, the audience was left emotionally drained. The reality had finally dawned. Here stood a people, strangers for 52 years in the land of their ancestors, stopped from singing their hymn of praise of tanah – their vanua, brutally punished by the Indonesian security forces for daring to suggest that they wanted self-determination. Here stood a people who have attempted for more than half a century to bring justice into their homes in the face of an international and church community which conveniently turns a blind eye to their struggle. Not two months ago Australian Foreign Minister Bob Carr claimed the international community had no interest in the situation of the indigenous people of West Papua. Australia and the United States may not be interested in the people but they have a definite interest in the gold and timber in the forests of West Papua, along with the potential gas and oil off the coast. The United Nations – which shirked its responsibility in 1961 and failed to block Indonesia’s annexing of the former Dutch colony – has done nothing, possibly out of shame, So they have remained blind and silent to the plight of these people who finally claimed a place on the international stage. The world’s churches, until now complicit with the UN and the global powers through their silence – were forced to open that space by the Pacific delegation to the WCC 10th Assembly. At this religious forum representative of more than 500 million Christians the irony of this forgotten people making a political statement was not lost. That was what brought tears to the eyes of people who did not know the words of the West Papuan anthem. Here stood a people singing their song in a strange land. Psalm 137 tells of the lament of the Israelites being forced by their Babylonian captors to sing songs of praise to God while the captors laughed until their sides hurt and tears rolled down their faces. “How can we sing in a strange land?” the Israelites asked. But here stood a people for whom singing this song in their own land would mean death, a fate faced by more than 100,000 Papuans at the hands of the Indonesian military in the last 52 years. Here they stood, tears streaming down their cheeks, allowed to sing only in a strange land. Tears of joy at being able to sing their anthem. Tears of pain, remembering the struggles of more than half a century. Tears of gratitude to the Pacific community for allowing them space on stage. The Papuan anthem was a surprise feature of the final performance of the Pacific Oikoumene Group. Pacific church leaders stood with their youth representatives, ready to sing the last item. Then they parted as the Papuan delegation led by drummers and took the front row, dressed in grass skirts and wearing their Bird of Paradise headdress. Their backs straight, right hands held across their chests, the Papuans broke into song. They sang in unison – men and women – with a haunting male descant piercing the silence and hearts of the audience. Not an eye in the house was dry. A Papuan woman watching off stage wept, her handkerchief held to her face long after the anthem ended. As thunderous applause broke out the Papuans turned to each other and embraced in what must have been a bittersweet moment. Here in Busan they had broken the ceiling of international isolationism but they must return to a land which – although theirs in spirit – is no longer their own. It belongs in essence to a foreign occupier. After the brief euphoria of helping a forgotten people gain a political milestone, a new reality dawned on the audience. For the people of West Papua, the struggle is far from over. Drained of emotion for fleeting seconds, the vacuum in my soul started to fill with anger and then – as it overflowed – a sadness so compelling a cynical journalist was forced to turn from the crowd, unable to see through the camera viewfinder. Words failed me.