Indonesian Political, Business & Finance News

Acehnese grapple with demons, death and division

| Source: REUTERS

Acehnese grapple with demons, death and division

Dean Yates and Tomi Soetjipto, Reuters/Lhok Nga, Aceh

The mass grave near the tsunami-ravaged Indonesian town of Lhok
Nga has about 100 corpses in body bags lying in the freshly dug
dirt. There is room for at least 1,000 more.

Not far away, the concrete hulk of a house has come to rest on
the road. It is about the only building standing in this
beachside town a few kilometers (miles) southwest of the
provincial capital, Banda Aceh.

Painted on its wall are the words: "God help saves us from
this disaster. 26/12, 04."

It is a date the people of Aceh province will never forget.

Exactly one month on, the devout Muslims of Aceh are trying to
rebuild their lives after a monster tsunami triggered by a
massive earthquake barreled ashore on Dec. 26.

Schools reopened on Wednesday and many shops in the half of
the city that escaped the killer waves are bustling. A cleanup in
major centres is in full swing. But for Acehnese, putting the
past behind them is not easy.

"I don't want to complain, but if you look around things are
still really bad. Dead bodies are still everywhere," said Zainal
Abidin, the principal of a primary school in Banda Aceh.

Indeed, some of the busiest people are Indonesian soldiers
recovering bodies across a 350-km (220-mile) stretch of coastal
wasteland of ruined rice fields and obliterated villages.

The government says nearly 100,000 corpses have been buried.
With the number of dead and missing at some 220,000, the soldiers
and diggers of mass graves will be busy for weeks to come.

Once home to several hundred thousand people, Banda Aceh has
been virtually split into two.

In one half, life thrives as if nothing has changed. Outdoor
coffee shops do a roaring trade. Barber shops and mobile phone
outlets stay open late. Traffic clogs the roads around street
markets where meat, vegetables and fruit are on sale.

"I've been standing here since 8:00 a.m. Every day there is a
line of customers," said Harry, a barber, noting that the city's
traditional area of barber shops was destroyed.

The other half is a ghost town of rubble and looted shops. The
main inhabitants are scavengers and the hundreds, possibly
thousands, of men driving trucks and bulldozers in a huge cleanup
operation.

Trucks dump rubbish and debris on the outskirts of town or in
destroyed rice paddies, where it is burnt, sending a pall of
smoke over the city.

Hundreds of thousands have been made homeless across Aceh,
forced to live in makeshift tents or shelters.

Shaista Aziz, a spokeswoman for the British charity group
Oxfam in Banda Aceh, said such people wanted to get out of the
camps and start rebuilding their lives.

"People here are not used to handouts. That's something that
is actually destroying them," Aziz said.

The United Nations says aid is reaching most people in need.
Even so, signs of desperation are not hard to find.

Approaching Krueng Raya, a flattened village a 45-minute drive
east of Banda Aceh along the northern coast, scores of adults and
children beg by the roadside, waving empty boxes or plastic
basins at the few passing cars.

Schools went back on Wednesday, but the resumption confirmed
fears that children bore the brunt of the death toll when the
waves came. In some schools, fewer than half of pupils turned up.

At secondary school No. 4 in Banda Aceh, students walked on
tables across a mud-filled yard to register. Classes might start
in a week when the school was cleaned properly, said economics
teacher Nurhayati.

"Even though we cannot open yet, we are urging students to
come and be with their friends. It might be less stressful than
staying at home," she said.

The trauma of the disaster worries health officials just as
much as immediate concerns such as epidemics. Many Acehnese say
they have nightmares and still fear the sea.

According to the World Health Organization, up to 1 million
people could be affected by loss of relatives, homes or
livelihoods.

"I am still traumatized. Things are not normal. We worry about
what we will do in the future," said Yulhelmi Gustiperwira, 40,
an electrical contractor.

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