Death becomes Tanjung's concern
Death becomes Tanjung's concern
Nani Farida, The Jakarta Post, Banda Aceh
It was close to midnight when Muslim Tanjung returned home,
parking his ambulance in front of his house.
Tanjung was exhausted. After attending Friday prayers at a
mosque, he went up the hill to pick up the body of a youth which
was found two kilometers away in Peukan Bileu, Aceh Besar, a
particularly dangerous area in the conflict-ridden Aceh.
It was a successful mission. The Indonesian Red Cross (PMI)
volunteers were able to bring the corpse down the hill and
deliver it to his family before dusk.
Because he lives far from the town, it is unusual for Tanjung
to come home late.
Tanjung recalls that Friday night, stepping from his PMI
ambulance in front of his house and seeing the figure of the dead
youth, wearing the same shirt but without the blood stains.
"The figure looked at me briefly," he says.
Tanjung says it was his first encounter with the spirit of a
dead person he had transported.
"I never experienced this before. It was quite strange but I
believe it happened," he told The Jakarta Post.
Although he has dedicated his life to helping the people of
Aceh, Tanjung is not a native Acehnese. He was born in Bonjol,
West Sumatra, in 1956. Nonetheless, he has earned a place in the
hearts of the Acehnese since moving to the province in 1987 and
marrying Cut Rohana, with whom Tanjung has three children.
Since joining PMI in 1988, Tanjung has become well accustomed
to the sight of blood and the smell of decomposing bodies.
How does he persevere and do his job?
"What comes to my mind when finding a decomposed body is
nothing but my religious obligation to speedily execute fardhu
kifayah (collective obligation)," he says.
He was particularly busy between 1999 and 2001, when he headed
a PMI task force in Aceh Besar and Banda Aceh. Along with other
volunteers, Tanjung recovered up to five corpses a day from
ravines, hills, rivers and roadsides.
He says residents did not dare to look at and try to identify
an unidentified corpse unless PMI personnel were around.
"In Aceh, the main mission of the PMI used to be collecting
blood donations. Now it is seen mainly as an organization that
collects corpses, though that is in fact only a secondary duty,"
he says.
Tanjung has lost count of how many bodies he has recovered in
the course of his service, but he puts the number at about 200.
"My job is to recover the bodies, not keep statistics."
He praises both the separatist Free Aceh Movement (GAM) and
the Indonesian Military as being "very helpful" in accommodating
PMI and its work transporting corpses.
"The members of the public are equally helpful. They often
provide us with food and cigarettes," he says.
His family is very understanding about his job. His wife was
involved in humanitarian work five years before Tanjung joined
PMI, and his youngest son sometimes helps him collect corpses.
"I am sure (my son) will become a volunteer like me," Tanjung
says.
He says that working for the PMI is not financially rewarding.
His monthly wage is Rp 200,000. To make ends meet, Tanjung has a
side job with a company owned by a friend.
"You cannot expect much money from this kind of job," he says.
His only material possession of any value is a cellular phone
that was presented to him by the regional secretary of Nangroe
Aceh Darussalam, when he was honored as one of the world's most
noted volunteers in 2001.
"Only 11 Indonesians received the award," he says proudly.
Even though taking care of corpses is both a job and a
calling, he also nurtures the desire to help the living as well.
Which is why he filled out a job application with the local
office of the Ministry of Religious Affairs in charge of the haj
pilgrimage.
Unfortunately, or fortunately for the people he helps, he is
not on the list of applicants who have been summoned to the
office for a second-round of entrance tests.
"I'm still hopeful of getting the job," he says.