Finding the Meaning of 'Homecoming' on Land That Once Raged
REPUBLIKA.CO.ID, JAKARTA — From a narrow plot measuring three by four metres in Agusen Village, Gayo Lues Regency, Aceh, life is attempting to find its shape once more. The plywood walls and corrugated iron roof, which reflect the midday heat, hold more than just bodies; they contain forced laughter, uncontainable complaints, and hopes that have not yet fully faded.
In that temporary dwelling, Hanime (61) sits cross-legged on a thin carpet, watching her children who have returned from afar. Her husband, Rahman (62), is not far from her. Their children—Ani from Jakarta, Dewi from Medan, and Junaidi who stays in Blangkejeren—gather with their grandchildren, filling a space that even feels limited for breathing. Yet, it is precisely in that cramped condition that they reweave the meaning of togetherness.
The house they now inhabit is not a house in the full sense. It is the remnant of loss. The flash flood at the end of November 2025 erased the traces of their dwelling, even the ground they once trod upon was swept away. What remains is only memories, and the determination to endure.
As the holiday approaches, the dynamics in the temporary shelter are never truly calm. Amid warm conversations and family laughter, there are always small disturbances: clean water. The village, once known for its abundant mountain water sources, is now gripped by crisis. Water pipes have become a source of minor conflicts between neighbours—clogged, contested, even deliberately blocked upstream.
“The water problem is the worst,” complains Ani, while continuing to stir the cooking in the makeshift kitchen. For her, the kitchen is not just a cooking space, but the lifeline of the family. Without water, everything becomes complicated.
She even does not hesitate to become a “lioness” to ensure the water keeps flowing to her house. Her complaints are voiced bluntly, interspersed with laughter that actually warms the atmosphere. In limitation, honesty becomes a way to survive.
Ani is a portrait of contrast from her devastated hometown. For the past two years, she has built a life in an urban area, becoming an entrepreneur in skincare products as well as a beauty content creator. From there, she helps finance her siblings’ education. But when the disaster struck, she returned, traversing distance and risk, to ensure her parents were safe.
She still clearly remembers the moment when she had to hitch a ride on a helicopter two days after the disaster, when land access was completely cut off. From the air, she witnessed her village levelled to the ground. The house that had just been renovated with her siblings vanished without a trace.
But for Junaidi, that loss is more than just buildings. The land of Agusen is the trace of their ancestors. His grandfather was among the first to open up the village. The family’s historical roots are deeply embedded there, too deep to be uprooted by disaster.