Wed, 02 Oct 2002

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.