The traditional village institutions had been quickly revived; proof that despite the individual losses the village‘s social capital was quick to re-accumulate.
Patek is a coastal village in Aceh Jaya district of Aceh Province, Indonesia. Aceh Province, situated at the northern tip of Sumatra Island, was relatively unknown to the world until its devastation in the giant tsunami of December 2004. Patek is sit uated about 100 km east of the epicentre of the earthquake, which triggered the tsunami, and bore the brunt of the waves. Driving through the village recently, the wayside verandahs were daintily festooned with dry fish dangling like mobiles and swaying incessantly in the strong wind. Behind them elderly women sat relaxed, waiting for the now frequent travellers like us to make a sale.
Before the tsunami, Patek, like most places in Aceh province, was strictly out of bounds to foreigners. Even Indonesians from other parts of the archipelago needed to produce proof of purpose to visit. The separatist movement known as Gerakan Aceh Merdeka or GAM, which was fighting for Acehnese independence from Indonesia, was being hounded by Tentara Nasional Indonesia (TNI), the Indonesian armed forces. The Acehnese population was thus under various forms of de facto military rul e over the last three decades. Despite several conflict resolution efforts — national and international — no solution was in sight. But what humans could not resolve for decades, nature achieved in two hours that fateful December morning.
The devastation wrought by the monster waves was incalculable. Half of Patek‘s population, most of the fishing boats, over two-thirds of the houses and much of the coastal forests were devoured by the sea. Such overwhelming death and destruction, spread all over the province, made it hard to fathom how things could get any worse. Surprisingly, the disaster triggered an immediate change in approach by both Jakarta and GAM. GAM called for a cease-fire to facilitate the recovery of corpses. Jakarta lifted its ban on foreigners from entering the province to allow distribution of international aid. The hostilities ceased and the widespread presence of media brought greater transparency to local events and issues.
We stopped near the kedai kopi (coffee shop), the village institution so typical of Aceh. Men sipping strong black coffee and pulling heavily on cigarettes hardly took notice of our arrival, assuming that we were from one of the man y aid agencies now ubiquitous in Aceh. I got off the UN-FAO vehicle, entered the kedai kopi and performed the usual Acehnese courtesy of shaking hands with everyone saying, ‘Salamat pagi‘(Good morning). T his cultural practice by itself is a great ice-breaker. Foreigners visiting Patek are usually whites, so my brown skin, grey French beard and FabIndia kurta evoked curiosity. Though facially I looked every bit Acehnese, I clearly was a stranger. When I announced, ‘saya datan dari India‘ (I am from India), there was a warm response. Visitors from India are rare. But the ancient trade and religious links with south India, as well as the current craze for H indi movies, made a great starting point for conversation.
Ongoing efforts
After exchanging pleasantries about Amitabh Bachchan‘s latest movies and the popularity of the song ‘kuch, kuch hota hi‘, we talked about the ongoing rehabilitation efforts. The sea had devoured most of the old vil lage. A whole new settlement was taking shape near a hill further upland. The mosque was quickly rebuilt. The permanent wooden houses nearing completion were well planned and sturdily built. The people were happy with the results and the efforts of the participating international NGOs. As eating out was a common practice, a restaurant had been built and named after the birthplace of the owner‘s wife who had died in the tsunami.
The traditional village institutions had been quickly revived — proof that despite the individual losses the village‘s social capital was quick to re-accumulate. This formed the basis of the community‘s strong collective resilience in the face of unimaginable individual tragedies. Most men and women who had lost their spouses had been remarried through the mediation of the imam, the village chief and other village elders. Wherever possible, the orphans had been adopted by relatives. Others were taken in by friends of the family.
We talked about fishery, the mainstay of the village economy. Many aid agencies had gifted boats and nets. But there was a gross mismatch between what the fishers needed and what was gifted. In their haste to help, aid agencies, with no experience in fisheries, rarely discussed the appropriateness of their assistance with the community. Any boat and net was thought to be adequate for fishers to get on with their lives. Most donors did not know that coastal morphology, wave and wind patterns make some boats dangerous. Again not every type of net can be used to catch fish in specific areas and seasons. Consequently, despite the large material assistance on the fishery front, the fishers were still not back to their old form. Boats and nets apart, the loss of able bodied men created a major labour shortage.
We also talked politics. The Helsinki Agreement between GAM and the Government of Indonesia, signed on August 15, 2005, finally brought political peace to devastated Aceh. The goal of GAM to gain independence from Indonesia was not achieved but it gave up its arms and Jakarta withdrew the TNI. Aceh was assured greater autonomy to utilise the earnings from its large natural resources — oil, gas, forests and fish. The first truly free elections held in Aceh in December 2006 saw two popular leaders, Irwandi Yusuf and Mohammed Nazar — one-time university academics and guerrilla tacticians — elected as Governor and Vice-Governor by an overwhelming majority. (Irwandi was languishing in a jail in Banda Aceh when the tsunami flooded it and raised him to the roof. He escaped into freedom and returned to Aceh after the agreement was signed.) The prospect for a brighter future for the next generation seems more clearly in sight today than ever before.
Lack of bitterness
After another round of coffee was served to all present in the kedai kopi (note the Tamil influence), the discussion moved to the tsunami itself. Why did this devastation happen to them? How did they cope with the trauma of the even t and its aftermath? How did they react to the fact that after the tsunami Aceh was peaceful, politically and economically more autonomous and open to the world?
The role of their strong Islamic traditions and faith in Allah in coming to terms with the tragedy — both individually and collectively as a community — was apparent from the total lack of bitterness about the events. They recalled the traumatic events with calmness and sagacity. Pak Shaifuddin epitomised the feeling when he said, “The tsunami was not God‘s punishment. It was God‘s training for us.”
Later, as we walked over for lunch to the village restaurant, the imam told me that Pak Sahifuddin was the only one in the village who had lost everything he could call his own — his wife and three children, his parents, his house, all his fishing assets and his dog. He remained unmarried, for he loved his wife dearly, and is gradually putting his life back in order. I was humbled by the man‘s indomitable faith.
The restaurant had a self-service system. You are served with rice in a plate with a banana leaf placed on it. The rest of the dishes are yours to serve — but they are exclusively composed of a large variety of fish, other seafood, chicken and lamb in fried, roasted and curry form. (A vegetarian would be hard pressed to survive in rural Aceh) Everyone eats with their hands. Meals are always accompanied by an amazing variety of fresh fruit juices. I chose mangga (mango).
The lunch time clientele was arriving slowly. A crowd of young women arriving on Honda bikes livened up the place with their chatter and laughter. Most of them sported T-shirts and blue jeans but wore black jilbabs (head scarf) R 12; a reminder that Syriah law had been imposed in Aceh by Jakarta before the tsunami.
The most interesting part of the meal is the manner in which the bill is settled. The owner comes up to you and asks what you have eaten. You are billed for whatever you declare; a reflection of the preponderance of trust that marks rural life in Aceh.
The drive from Patek northwards to Banda Aceh, the capital of Aceh Province, took us along stretches of coastline that had been swallowed by the sea . The whole coastal configuration had been radically altered. The alternative road being built by USAID was complete only in parts. Flash floods in the numerous rivers flowing to the sea continued to damage the new road. The hills close by were densely forested. Many detours and deviations later we were close to our destination. Suddenly the vehicle began to shudder. I thought it was the bad road. Only when the driver threw open his door and ordered us out did I realise it was an earthquake. The iron bridge across the river swayed like a crib. A few bystanders ran helter-skelter. Ten seconds and it was over. When the initial excitement subsided it was business as usual. We were back on the road and reached Banda Aceh safely at dusk.
Next morning the local newspaper Serembi announced that the quake was 6.9 on the Richter scale. Its epicentre was just west of where we felt had the impact. But it was too deep in the sea to trigger a tsunami. Knowledgeable persons informed me that the after shocks of the December 2004 quake will continue for much longer.
But I was sure that this will certainly not deter the Acehnese people from going ahead purposefully with plans to rebuild their province in the new found peace and freedom. In a way, this was a gift of the tsunami.
Source: www.hindu.com (31 Juli 2007)
