Sun, 30 Jan 2005

Cutlamkeah picks up the pieces, life goes on

Ruslan Sangadji, The Jakarta Post, Banda Aceh, Aceh

The dust is thick here in Cutlamkueh, a once-proud village on the western side of Banda Aceh. Silence prevails and the scenery is haunting. Gone are the bursts of laughter and the voices of workers.

Cutlamkueh, literally meaning "high and low, loving each other", had just gone through its worst experience. A 9.0- magnitude earthquake and subsequent tsunami tore away everything ever built there. Their meunasah -- small prayer rooms -- places where Acehnese feel at home, have also disappeared.

Once home to more than 2,000 people from various professions -- fishermen, civil servants, businessmen, police and military personnel -- the village now has only 200 people left. They have no clue at all where their houses were once located because everything has turned to debris and dust.

All that exists now is a scene of people searching underneath rubble for anything that might be useful for continuing with their lives. And they are not just looking for goods, but also missing children, wives, husbands, fathers, mothers, sisters and brothers.

"I can't even remember what our village once looked like. It's now just all pieces of wood scattered all over here. It took more than five hours just to find where my house was once located. And it took me a week to do this search before I gave up hope of ever finding my wife and four kids," said forty-three-year-old Hengki Hidayat.

He said that his house was once situated near a fish pond that villagers had made together. Now, neither his house nor the fish pond can be found.

Hengki recalled that the village was more like an extended family. He said that villagers did many things collectively.

"When one family held a party, it would be a party for all. When a family was having a dispute, others would gather at the meunasah to help find solutions. I'm telling you, we were so close that everybody knew everybody," he said.

Hengky was not exaggerating. At the refugee camp inside the TVRI's compound in the Mata Ie area of Banda Aceh, villagers continued to stay close to each other and help each other.

"Although we can only help a little, we are one big family that is suffering. And we don't just help each other out of obligation; it's a necessity," he said.

In their village, Hengky's friends are seen working on something that turns out to be a vital part of being an Acehnese: a meunasah.

"We can't just keep on lamenting our bad fortune. It's sad enough to experience what we went through, but it's sadder to think about it over and over again. It's time to get up and we hope villagers will come back and help us build this meunasah because this is where we spent our lives together," said thirty- two-year-old Willy Lapas, as he struggled to pull timbers and iron sheets from the rubble.

The re-construction of the meunasah, he said, has a deep meaning for the people. Once the reconstruction work has been done, they will feel that their village has come back to life and that they have a place in which they can feel at home.

"I don't know what the government's plans are for refugees like us. We don't expect much either. But we do hope that the government will rebuild our village right here. Don't take us away from here because this is the place where we were born, raised and survived," said another villager, Suardi.