Acehnese long for renewal

Tony Hotland, The Jakarta Post, Banda Aceh, Aceh

If the woman still had money, she would either be unloading fresh fruit at a market or trying out her best lines to get passersby to buy her produce.

But the tsunami that hit Aceh last month destroyed her house, leaving her penniless.

These days she spends her time in a tent erected for tsunami victims, contemplating her ruined fruit business.

Twenty-nine-year-old Hanifah cooks leftover meat distributed during the celebration of Idul Adha (Islamic Day of Sacrifice). One of her 13-year-old twin daughters, Salmiana, is taking a sewing class in a tent adjacent to Hanifah's inside the TVRI compound in Banda Aceh.

"I want to get back on my feet again. I want to sell fruit again like I used to. I feel so cooped up in here, life seems so boring," she said while pulling her faded sarong further down her legs.

Hanifah's husband, Abdurrahman, is still missing. Despite all her searching, all she found was some photos of him amid the rubble of her destroyed house in Pungee Blangcut in Jaya Baru regency.

Her other twin daughter, Salmiati, is staying with Hanifah's mother in a village in Panton Labu, North Aceh.

"My siblings also live there. My husband and I moved to the town after we got married in 1991. And no, I can't ask for financial help from them to start a business because they aren't much better off than me," she said, casting her eyes downward.

For Kamal, life has also turned gloomy. When Kamal realized he had probably lost his wife Rahma and his parents, he could only hug his daughter. He wipes away her tears when the loneliness of the night starts creeping up on her.

"My daughter cries at night because she remembers her mother. Worse, I can't help crying inside whenever she points to a woman and runs to me saying the woman looks like Rahma," he says.

With his dignity and his little girl -- all that he has left in the world -- Kamal said he only wished to go back to the sea, from which he had managed to earn a good living.

"We had a good life, you know? I'd go to the sea at night and bring lots of fish for us to sell and eat. We probably did more than OK, but now I have no house, no money, and my other half is gone," he said, smiling bitterly through cracked lips.

Hanifah and Kamal are just two of the 400,000 displaced persons trying to get by while living in camps in the tsunami- battered province.

Many of the people seemed at a loss when asked about their plans, simply saying: "I don't know ... I really don't. I'll just wait and see what happens."

Most of them are also curious, and frequently asked The Jakarta Post about the government's plan to build temporary barracks and eventually permanent housing.

"If we could ask for anything right now, I would ask for money to restart my business. I doubt the government will supply food aid for ever. But if we get a particular amount of money, I'm sure many refugees would immediately return to their former way of making a living.

"If they can't give me money, I'll probably approach some families and ask for a job as a servant. I'm sure many families need servants right now. Once I have enough money, I'll go back to the market and enjoy the fun of selecting fruit. That's what I'm going to do," a determined Hanifah said.

Kamal was more upbeat about his future.

"I heard they have a plan to repair and deploy new boats for fishermen. I guess I'll just take one of those boats. As for my daughter, I don't know where I'll leave her when I'm sailing. Perhaps, I'll just take her with me to show her the great world of fishing," he said.