Doctor goes to areas where others fear to tread

Doctor goes to areas where others fear to tread

Santi W.E. Soekanto, Contributor, Jakarta

It's a painful memory that sticks with Joserizal Jurnalis.

"We came upon layers upon layers of burned bodies at a
mosque ... bits and pieces of rotting limbs with larva swarming
all over them. Hundreds of them, scattered in the streets, inside
houses and in bushes. So many children and women bearing marks of
torture."

The orthopedic surgeon and founding chairman of Medical
Emergency Rescue Committee (MER-C), is describing the carnage he
discovered in January 2000 upon entering Popilo village, where
hundreds of its residents were wiped out overnight in one of the
worst bursts of sectarian violence in North Maluku.

Jose and his colleagues, Indragiri and Yogi Prabowo, were
speechless. One soldier who escorted them said then that even in
East Timor there was nothing close to such an atrocity, Jose
recollected, his eyes misting over.

Jose and his MER-C colleagues began working for victims of
disasters and violence in late 1999. He grabbed even greater
media attention when in late 2001 he and a MER-C team took part
in the Indonesian government's humanitarian mission for Afghan
refugees in Peshawar, Pakistan.

When Coordinating Minister for Social Welfare Jusuf Kalla and
his entourage returned home, however, Jose and his friends moved
onward into Afghanistan to serve the Afghans suffering under
American bombings.

Fairly tall, well-built and with a cropped haircut, Jose is a
commanding presence but he repeatedly speaks of fear. In the
southern Maluku district of Tual in 1999, Jose had to bring a
badly injured Christian man for an operation in the hospital.

"A (Christian) Red Army patrol intercepted us on the way. It
was so frightening because they were fully armed with machetes,
home-made weapons, bombs, spears, all ready to kill us,
strangers. Our driver, a Catholic Irianese, shouted repeatedly,
pleading that they spare us because we were doctors helping their
own brother.

"That's one of the bad times," Jose said ruefully.

Born in Padang, West Sumatra, Jose went to Jakarta following
his high school graduation because his parents wanted him to
become a doctor. "On matters of education, I followed whatever my
parents said," Jose said, "despite the fact that I actually
dreamed of becoming either a nuclear physicist, an astronaut or a
soldier."

Jose admitted to facing difficulties in the University of
Indonesia's School of Medicine because he hated cramming. "I
often cut classes and stayed home reading books on philosophy,
literature or politics. I even read martial arts novels by Kho
Ping Hoo," he said.

He finished medical school in 1988 and went on to work at a
small community health clinic (Puskesmas) in Padang. Then his
mother broke her leg in an accident; even two years afterwards,
the broken bones had not healed and she had to undergo another
operation.

"I decided then to specialize in orthopedic surgery," he said.

He completed the course in 1999 but unlike many specialists
who embark on a "pay-back" period, earning as much money as
possible to repay the investment in their education, Jose went on
to set up MER-C. With his wife Dian Susilawati, a Bandung
Institute of Technology graduate, and three children, Jose now
lives in a modest rented house in East Jakarta.

"I began to feel like a 'real doctor' only after I went to
Maluku," he said. "I guess this is the reward for obeying one's
parents, namely that Allah in the ends gives one the best way of
living. This way, I can earn a livelihood for my family but I can
also go on the jihad as all Muslims should."

Medical Emergency Rescue-Committee, as its name suggests, is a
medical lightning force. Established on Aug. 14, 1999, MER-C
cites Islam as its ideology though it has received applications
from non-Muslim volunteers. Over the course of two years, the
organization has sent missions to various regions experiencing
disasters, both natural and manmade.

Why Islam? Why not build a "neutral" medical organization?
Jose says that when he entered Tual, his first conflict area
mission in 1999, together with a group of University of Indonesia
medical students, he met medics who refused to be impartial in
helping the victims of the violence.

He also witnessed unfairness in the distribution of aid with
Muslim refugees being the most disadvantaged. "I saw how
indifferent NGOs were when it was the Muslims who were being
victimized," he said. "When I was there, no ICRC or Indonesian
Red Cross activists were present."

MER-C was established by Jose and several doctors and medical
students. It now has branches in Manado, Malang, Yogyakarta,
Surabaya, Medan and, fairly soon, in Aceh. Jose insisted that
they declare Islam as their foundation, despite some members'
objections.

"Why should we be ashamed of saying that this is an Islamic
organization? Islam is rahmatan lil'alamin, a blessing for the
universe."

"Precisely because this is an Islamic organization, MER-C has
to help anyone regardless of their group, ethnic or religious
background. Islam tells us to help ease anyone's suffering. Even
a prostitute can go to heaven if they sincerely help a thirsty
dog," he said.

In Tual, for instance, Jose and his team worked in a Catholic
hospital.

"One of my patients was a relative of the regional military
commander, Brig. Gen. Max Tamaela, a Christian," Jose said. "This
nephew of Tamaela was losing his hand because of a bomb
explosion. I told him and his family that I was a Muslim, a
surgeon, and that I wanted to help him."

Jose says this stance speaks volumes about what Islam is
despite some of its members' inability to quote Koranic verses.

"What we want to do is show the elegant face of Islam, and
other people can judge for themselves what we do. This is the way
Muslims are doctors," he says.

Last Oct. 29, Jose and four other MER-C volunteers' doctors
Hendry Hidayatullah, Yogi Prabowo and Dany K. Ramadhan and guide
Muhammad Azzam, flew with Jusuf Kalla's humanitarian mission to
Peshawar, where millions of Afghan refugees were sheltering.

After serving several days in Peshawar, Jose's team bought a
car and drove some 1,000 kilometers into Afghanistan through the
southern border town of Quetta and onward to Kandahar, which was
then under the Taliban's control.

"That is the mission of MER-C, actually, to go and serve in
places where no other doctors are willing to work," Jose said.

Fear was again a sentiment that accompanied Jose and his
friends. At one point, they realized that the jeep they were
driving, looking very much like the type of vehicle that the
Taliban usually used, was being shadowed by an American fighter.
In Kandahar, too, they had to work under constant threats of
bombing.

"The warplanes felt like they were overhead. The explosions
deafened our ears, we had buzzing sounds in our ears," Jose said.

Jose, who once in North Maluku had to amputate a patient's leg
using a carpenter's saw, found once again that resourcefulness
was all important. He and his team had to handle a great number
of patients all at the same time with almost nonexistent medical
facilities.

"We used disposable syringes repeatedly, sterilizing them as
best we could with boiling water," he said. "Just like in Maluku
when we used honey in the place of antibiotics, which was hard to
find."

Jose admitted that, although he had been to a number of
conflict areas, Afghanistan left him with the deepest impression.

"So much changed in me as I worked there, especially in my
belief in the word 'struggle'. The Afghans were facing what could
only be described as the world's strongest power, the United
States. But the Afghans I met, especially the Taliban, did not
show fear," Jose said. "I could not but admire them for their
gumption."

"Those people that I met put their trust entirely in Allah.
They were poor, their land and climate harsh, they were being
bombed every day, but still they did not show fear. Sincere
devotion to Allah, that's what you found in their facial
expressions," he said.

Critics have asked "why Afghanistan?" when thousands of
Indonesians were still suffering in various conflict areas.

"It was just like what I saw in Tual, when Muslims were
suffering and no one reached out to help (because people kept on
waiting for other people to begin first)," Jose said.

"I did not need to open books on Islamic jurisdiction to find
out whether I should or should not go to Afghanistan. I saw the
mission as fardhu ain, incumbent on individual Muslims, to help
our brethren who were being slaughtered."

"I was sure I would be of some use there. I did not need to
ask permission from my parents, even my wife. All Muslims are
brothers, no matter where they are. America was bombing
Afghanistan, how could we sit still?"

Jose could not explain what drove him to take part in
dangerous missions except that he felt he had to go on the jihad,
as required of all Muslims. Several times he escaped death,
though he says that being a martyr is the highest wish for a
Muslim.

"Fear is what I feel every time he goes on those missions,"
Dian said of her husband's work, but "I believe Allah is the best
protector".

Fear is what Jose still feels, yet it does not stop him from
doing what he believes is right. He is now planning to go on a
mission to Chechnya.