We are poor villagers. People don't suddenly have money to travel by plane.
In the remote reaches of West Papua, an elderly Indigenous leader named Mama Yasinta disappeared from her village without a word to her family, only to resurface days later in Jakarta — thousands of kilometres away — publicly reversing her opposition to a vast government land project that has displaced over a hundred thousand people. The journey between those two moments, between the woman who spoke for her land in a viral documentary and the woman who stood before police to silence it, is a journey whose true nature remains contested and deeply troubling. What is clear is that the forces shaping Papua's forests and futures are also shaping the voices permitted to speak about them.
- A 64-year-old Marind elder vanished from her village without warning, leaving her family unable to reach her for nearly a week — a silence that has since grown louder than any statement she has made.
- Witnesses place her at a military post before she boarded a private jet owned by a businessman directly tied to the development project she had publicly opposed, contradicting her later insistence that she travelled freely by commercial airline.
- The documentary she appeared in — viewed over 13 million times — has become a national flashpoint, with roughly 50 of its 2,000 live screenings disrupted and its director branded a foreign agent on social media.
- Indonesia's human rights commission has opened an investigation into whether Mama Yasinta was coerced into filing a legal complaint against the very filmmakers who gave her a platform, citing her extreme poverty and vulnerability as compounding factors.
- Her nephew, who knows her best, says plainly: 'I believe Mama is lying' — and her family waits in West Papua, uncertain when, or under what conditions, she will come home.
Yasinta Moiwend — Mama Yasinta to her community — disappeared from Ilwayab district in West Papua without telling her family where she was going. For nearly a week, no one could reach her. Then she appeared on television in Jakarta, standing beside a lawyer, filing a complaint against a documentary that had made her a symbol of Indigenous resistance.
The documentary, Pig Feast: Colonialism in Our Time, had become a phenomenon — more than 13 million views in two weeks, nearly 2,000 live screenings across Indonesia and internationally. In it, Mama Yasinta was one of several Indigenous voices opposing Indonesia's National Strategic Project, a government initiative that has converted millions of hectares of West Papuan forest and customary land into industrial agricultural zones, displacing an estimated 107,000 people.
Before she vanished, a video had already begun circulating online showing her expressing sudden support for the project she had opposed. Her nephew, Esau Maguo Kahol, was stunned. Witnesses told him she had spent a night at a military post before being transported out of the village alongside military personnel and district officials, then boarded a private jet belonging to a businessman connected to the development. A legal aid worker from LBH Papua corroborated similar accounts.
In Jakarta, Mama Yasinta denied everything — insisting she had flown commercially, of her own free will, and had never met the businessman whose plane witnesses say she boarded. 'Nobody asked me to come. There was no intimidation,' she said. Her nephew was not persuaded. 'We are poor villagers,' he told the ABC. 'People from the village don't suddenly have enough money to travel by plane like that.'
The documentary itself has drawn scrutiny beyond Mama Yasinta's case. It examines the food estate program through the stories of four Indigenous peoples and documents what it describes as the world's largest ongoing deforestation project, including Australia's involvement through sugarcane research. Around 50 screenings have been disrupted, and the director has faced online attacks — though Indonesia's coordinating minister said he had never ordered bans and that public debate should be encouraged.
Indonesia's national human rights commission, Komnas HAM, has launched an investigation into whether Mama Yasinta was pressured to file her complaint. Its deputy chair noted she is living in extreme poverty, is a woman, is Papuan — and is, by any measure, highly vulnerable. The director of the documentary has urged the public not to judge her, suggesting the episode looks like a deliberate strategy to redirect attention from the deeper questions of land and colonialism in Papua.
Back in West Papua, Kahol and his family wait. 'Even though we live with very little, Mama means everything to us,' he said. Where she is, and under what circumstances, remains unclear.
Yasinta Moiwend simply vanished. Her family in Ilwayab district, in the remote reaches of West Papua, could not reach her by phone. No one knew where she had gone. Then, nearly a week after she disappeared in late May, the 64-year-old Indigenous leader of the Marind people appeared on television in Jakarta, thousands of kilometres away, standing beside a lawyer. The circumstances of her journey to the capital have since become the subject of intense speculation and concern.
Mama Yasinta, as she is known throughout her community, had recently gained national prominence in Indonesia after appearing in a documentary called Pig Feast: Colonialism in Our Time. The film, directed by Dandhy Dwi Laksono and Cypri Jehan Paju Dale, had become a phenomenon—viewed more than 13 million times on YouTube within two weeks of its release, and screened live nearly 2,000 times across Indonesia and internationally, including in Australia. In the documentary, Mama Yasinta was featured as one of several Indigenous voices opposing Indonesia's National Strategic Project, a massive government initiative that has converted millions of hectares of tropical forest and customary lands in West Papua into industrial agricultural zones for rice, sugarcane, and corn. The project has displaced an estimated 107,000 people and cleared around 2.5 million hectares of rainforest.
Before her family lost contact with her, a video began circulating online showing Mama Yasinta expressing sudden support for the very project she had opposed in the documentary. Her nephew, Esau Maguo Kahol, told the ABC he was stunned by the reversal. "Mama had suddenly changed direction," he said. According to accounts Kahol received from locals in the area, Mama Yasinta had left the village without informing her family. Witnesses reported that she had stayed overnight at an Indonesian military post before being transported out of the village alongside military personnel and district officials connected to the development project. On May 25, according to these accounts, she boarded a private jet belonging to PT Jhonlin Group, a company owned by businessman Andi Syamsuddin Arsyad, known as Haji Isam. The aircraft was accompanied by Ilwayab district head Christin Rumlus and officers from the Mandala military command. Arnoldus Anda, a legal aid worker from LBH Papua, corroborated similar claims based on local testimony.
Five days after being reported missing, Mama Yasinta appeared at Jakarta Metropolitan Police headquarters, where she filed a formal complaint against the documentary's director and John Teddy Wakum, director of the Merauke branch of LBH Papua, citing Indonesia's Personal Data Protection Law. She objected to her image being used in the film and called for screenings to be halted. In a video statement, she denied all claims about her transportation, insisting she had travelled by commercial airline on her own initiative and had never met Haji Isam. "Nobody asked me to come. The military did not pick me up. There was no intimidation," she said. Yet her nephew remained unconvinced. "I believe Mama is lying," Kahol told the ABC. "We are poor villagers. People from the village don't suddenly have enough money to travel by plane like that."
The documentary itself has become a flashpoint for broader tensions in Indonesia. Pig Feast examines the National Strategic Project through the lens of four Indigenous groups—the Marind, Awyu, Yei, and Muyu peoples—and explores claims that the government's food estate program masks a large-scale bioethanol development benefiting commercial interests. The film also documents what it describes as the world's largest ongoing deforestation project and highlights Australia's involvement, specifically the role of Sugar Research Australia in developing sugarcane varieties for West Papua plantations. The documentary's production collaborators reported that approximately 50 of the 2,000 live screenings had been disrupted or cancelled, with authorities citing reasons ranging from "provocative" content to security concerns and permit violations. Director Laksono has been attacked on social media as a "foreign agent" and provocateur. Yet Indonesia's Coordinating Minister for Law, Human Rights, Immigration and Corrections, Yusril Ihza Mahendra, stated he had never instructed local authorities to ban screenings, saying instead that public debate should be encouraged.
Mama Yasinta's disappearance and apparent coercion have not gone unnoticed by Indonesia's National Commission on Human Rights, Komnas HAM, which has launched an investigation into allegations that she was pressured to file the complaint. Deputy chair Putu Elvina noted the vulnerability of Mama Yasinta's position: "She is living in conditions of extreme poverty … she is a woman, she is Papuan, and she is highly vulnerable." Police say they are still reviewing her complaint and have not yet summoned witnesses or the individuals named in her report. Director Laksono, for his part, has largely remained silent since the complaint was filed, though he posted on social media urging the public not to judge Mama Yasinta and suggesting that recent events appeared to be a deliberate "strategy" to shift attention away from the core issues of colonialism and land dispossession in Papua. Back in West Papua, Kahol and his family wait for Mama Yasinta to return home. "Even though we live with very little, Mama means everything to us," he said. As of now, she is believed to still be in Jakarta, but under what circumstances and with whom remains unclear.
Notable Quotes
Mama had suddenly changed direction. We were shocked when we saw the video.— Esau Maguo Kahol, Mama Yasinta's nephew, to the ABC
I believe Mama is lying. We are poor villagers. People from the village don't suddenly have enough money to travel by plane like that.— Esau Maguo Kahol
She is living in conditions of extreme poverty … she is a woman, she is Papuan, and she is highly vulnerable.— Putu Elvina, deputy chair of Komnas HAM
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What made this documentary so powerful that it would provoke this kind of response?
It reached 13 million people in two weeks. It showed something Indonesia's mainstream media rarely covers—the actual cost of development to the people living on the land. When you put a face to displacement, when you hear from Mama Yasinta herself about losing her livelihood, it becomes harder to dismiss as necessary progress.
And her sudden reversal—do you think she genuinely changed her mind?
Her nephew doesn't believe it. He knows her. He knows their family has no money for plane tickets. The timing is too convenient, the story too neat. She goes missing, then reappears with a lawyer, filing complaints against the very people who documented her story.
But she denies being coerced. She says she travelled on her own.
She says that on camera, in Jakarta, far from home. Her family says she never raised concerns about the documentary before she disappeared. She never asked for compensation. Nothing changed until she vanished.
What does this tell us about how power works in West Papua?
It tells us that if your voice becomes inconvenient, you can disappear. And when you reappear, you can be made to say whatever serves the project. The military post, the private jet, the businessman's involvement—these aren't accidents. They're the machinery.
Is anyone actually investigating this?
Indonesia's human rights commission is. But Mama Yasinta is still in Jakarta, and no one quite knows where or why. The police haven't even called witnesses yet. The documentary keeps spreading, but the woman at its centre has become unreachable.
What happens next?
That's the question everyone is asking. Does she go home? Does she stay? Does the investigation lead anywhere, or does it quietly close? The documentary exposed something real about displacement and deforestation. Now it's also exposed something about what happens when you speak.