Translator: Mai Iida
Reviewer: Ellen Maloney My name is Bella Galhos, and I am a survivor of family violence. Today I would like to share with you the story of my family violence, the culture of silence, and my dream for the children of this country. I was born and grew up here
in this country, in Dili. As a woman, there are many expectations
that have been attached to me since I was very young. I am the oldest daughter in my family. I have four older brothers,
I have two sisters, and I have two younger brothers. As a child, and more so as a woman, my culture has expectations, and "do" and "don't" lists for me. One of the most important things, as a woman, is that I should not
bring shame to my family. I should not. I should not speak publicly
about the bad things in my family, but it is ok for me to make up stories, to lie, to show to the outsider
how great my family is. This is how I have been brought up
and been taught as a woman. I come from a very simple family. I witnessed my parent's separation at the age of six. My father left us alone,
with my mother as a single parent. I know that some people were questioning what was happening in my family
that led to the separation of my parents. I don't have fond memories
of my childhood, yet I remember so many things
that my father has done to me, my mother, and all of us. And I never get tired of sharing. I just hope for one thing; change. I was an unwanted child. At the age of four, by my father, I was sold for merely
five dollars, or 50,000 rupiahs. My mother, of course, fought valiantly
in the battle to get me back and the price she paid
was physical and mental abuse at the hands of my father. I grew up in a house that was exposed to almost all forms of violence. From physical violence to sexual violence, my mother went through a lot,
and all of us witnessed it. Sleepless nights, isolation, horrifying days,
in the hands of my father. If it didn't satisfy him,
he indulged in infidelity, Stalking my mother, making all of us work like slaves. Life was hell back then. We had a house, but not a home. After years of abuse by my father, my mother decided to fight
a battle for separation. In the early 80s, it wasn't easy
for women like my mother to fight for separation. But she did it. She made it for herself, and for us. I often remember the words she said. "I want to live longer, at least to see
all of you move on with your lives. If I stay married,
I would not be able to make it." Those words haunted me since I was young. But let me tell you that story of my mother,
the experience of my mother, and the story of mine.
that I am sharing with you today; it is the story of many women and many mothers of this country. There are two horrifying incidents, out of many, done by my father, that I remember even today. The first one; when I had to pull a nail
out of my mom's thigh. My father beat her with that wood that the nail was attached to. That was the first one out of many. The second one; when I had to witness my mother, tied up by my father
in the bedroom for days, by her feet and her long hair. And us children faced the threat and consequences if we dared to free our mother. You might be wondering
whether my parents' separation brought about some changes. My answer is no. It is believed and said so many times, that children exposed to violence, when they grow up, they will do it too. This is the case of my oldest brother. My oldest brother took all
my father's violent behavior on all of us, and more so on me, until last year,
when he attempted to kill me. My father's violent behaviour
and my brother's violent behaviour have had a lot of impact on me
and my other siblings. It has changed the way we look
at the world and the people around us. And for me, like most women, I grew up to believe that it was normal
for women to be beaten up For many years, I allowed myself to be beaten up, and thought it was a man's duty to do so. You must be wondering too;
why did all this happen? Where was everybody? Where was my extended family or my neighbours? We come from a very
male-dominated family society, with traditional beliefs
of women's roles within the family. It is also believed that no one should
interfere in another family's life. Our fathers, our brothers, our husbands, they just do their duty to make sure that we are behaving well
in our families and in our homes. As I'm speaking to you,
I remember my mother. And often, my own conscience hits me hard, whether, if I had spoken out back then, if my family did something about it, and if society would have the courage
to do something about it, maybe she would still be alive today. Maybe. But I realize that my silence,
my family's silence, my society's silence, and more-so,
the act of normalized violence, it did not help me. It did not help anybody in my family and in society as a whole. Instead, it is destroying me,
destroying my family, and destroying many people
in this country. I wonder, how many more women,
how many more mothers, will have to go through this
until we finally realize that these acts of violence, in any form, is destroying us, destroying our families, and more so, destroying
the children's lives in this country. if we don't do something about it. After 37 years, - I am 42 right now - I have decided to put an end
to family violence, starting with my own family. Because I know it didn't help. It didn't help anybody. My mother's life
and her struggle inspire me. If back then she could do it, why, today, can I not do it? But knowing very well
her struggle back then, I know there were a lot of mixed feelings within the family. My mother, perhaps, considered
heartless to the extreme, decided to leave my father. He was just doing his job. If she just behaved well,
perhaps nothing would happen. But though she behaved so well, for me, in my eyes,
my mother was a perfect mother. But she still suffered. And today, my struggle to put an end to violence in my family, or any violence I see,
I will do something about it. Again, I am being seen
as extreme, heartless, as just wanting to destroy my family. I just have no heart if I want to bring my father to justice,
my brother to justice. He was just doing his job, making sure that I behaved well, or listened to him, or submitted to him. That's what we believe here. Most, not all. You all know, I know, that no one
deserves to be beaten up. Nobody deserves to be pulled
by their hair, put on the ground, humiliated, isolated. We all deserve love, happiness, and peace. That's all we want. We all want it. We don't ask for more,
we don't ask for less. I want to remind all of us,
and also myself that we can make a difference. At least, starting
by looking at ourselves. What can we do to change us? What can we do to put the brake on the silence we upheld
for such a long time? And to stop the normalization of violence, starting from our homes,
and this community, and this country as a whole. Maybe I am not asking,
but I beg you, please do. Now, having shared all this, this look through my eyes,
this change that I am hoping for. I can keep on talking like this,
never-ending, if there is no change. I will keep going if I have to. I hope that I won't have to, that you also might want
to put up a voice out there. Despite of all this, I have a dream. I have a dream for the children of this country, because I don't think
I have the heart again to keep on seeing the young generation coming through what I,
you and many have gone through. I think it is time to say,
"Enough" to all this. But before I share this dream let me
explain to you why I am taking it on. I think I am not the only one, perhaps, who sees the children
on the streets of Dili. I don't think I am the only one, am I? There are children on the streets
wandering around aimlessly, some even taking the risk of cycling. The way they drive, the way they ride,
you guys see it; it's very dangerous. They are begging for money,
they are begging for food. They are all over the place. Maybe, like you, I am wondering;
where are their parents? Where are their houses? How come they are on the streets? Well, I can relate to them. I know what it is like to be on the street when nobody cares about you in the family, in the house, then maybe you will find
a place you maybe feel you belong to. This is what these children do,
and we have to stop that. We have to take them home. It's not only their parents'
responsibility, but we too, this is our responsibility
to do something about it. So this is how this Green School
is coming into place. I initiated this project because I know that the struggle
to fight for ending violence is not a short one. It is going to be a long process. So I am starting this place,
this Green School, a friendly camp in Maubisse, just to give the children of this country
a place that they can call home. And the reason I put it in Maubisse
is because of my mother; this is her hometown, she grew up there. And the place where I built
the Green School is the first place that my mother set up a female school 50 years ago. So I want to contribute that effort
in the name of my mother. But what is this Green School about? The Green School is basically; I just want
to give another chance to these kids to learn about love,
to learn about life skills. Beside loving others, they too should love their environment. It is important that we teach
our kids about their environment too, simply because Timor-Leste,
we do have a lot of natural resources. How would we keep that going if our young people don't understand
their own environment? And how will they learn to care
for their environment if their environment is full of violence? It should be some people, maybe myself
and all of you, or some of us, we should do something about it. This is how this Green School came about, and I'm still in the process of making it. I'm hoping that this Green School
will definitely become a reality, and not only that,
I'm hoping again and again, let's join hand in hand,
to put an end to violence, starting from our own homes Stop pretending, stop lying,
stop making up stories. Tell the truth. We're not hoping to put our parents,
our brothers, or our uncles, or whoever in jail. That's not the point. We want them to be good fathers, good brothers, good men around us. We are not hoping to lock them up. But we are hoping
that they can be good people; good fathers, good brothers, good husbands. Perhaps, we are not asking
too much, are we? I am also not asking too much. I'm just asking to be kind, to be loving,
and to be more responsible. It hurts when you are humiliated that badly,
that you feel you have no dignity. And that has to stop. So help me put an end to this violence and help me to make
the Green School a reality for the children of Timor-Leste. Thank you very much. (Applause)
