Madurese refugees recount sad stories of the clashes

Madurese refugees recount sad stories of the clashes

By Ainur R. Sophiaan

BANGKALAN, Madura, East Java (JP): Tadjul Anwar never thought
that a brawl among youths in the district of Sanggau Ledo, Sambas
regency, would rapidly deteriorate into bigger clashes that would
kill many people and force him and other Madurese out of West
Kalimantan.

At first, 31-year-old Anwar, an ustadz (teacher) at the
Raudhatus Sholihin Islamic boarding school, thought things would
return to normal as his own father-in-law, Shalihuddin, was among
the Madurese leaders invited to sign a truce with the leaders of
the native Dayaks.

"It was signed in front of the local military officials. But
before we had the chance to tell residents about the truce, mobs
of Dayaks came down the mountain and started to attack us," he
told The Jakarta Post here earlier this week.

On Jan. 1, Tadjul, his wife, two children and his parents-in-
law had to flee their home, along with hundreds of other
Madurese, and seek shelter in Singkawang, some 70 kilometers
away.

A week later, Tadjul took a furtive trip alone back to Sanggau
Ledo only to find his and most other houses belonging to the
Madurese in shambles. Not to be discouraged, Tadjul led the few
people remaining to their local mushala for prayer.

Then he found out that a group of Dayaks were hunting for his
father-in-law. Armed with traditional lantak weapons and cans of
gasoline, the Dayaks mounted a manhunt for the Madurese leader.
They only stopped after some people told them that Shalihuddin
was being protected by a great number of Madurese.

"The Dayaks were being watched and accompanied by a number of
military officials, who could do nothing to stop them," Tadjul
said.

Tadjul was fortunate to still be alive. But he had to watch,
from afar, as the Dayaks vented their rage by setting his house
on fire. "I had to watch them burn not only my house, but my
books, most of which were gifts from my brother in Medina," said
Tadjul, his eyes filled with unshed tears.

Tadjul and three other Madurese then hid in the woods for more
than three days before seeking protection at a local military
station.

Tadjul said Dayak attacks took place every day, usually at
noon. "Hundreds of Dayaks would come down at a time. They seemed
to have known well in advance which house to attack, like they
had a list of targets. What was left were mosques and Islamic
schools."

At the military station, he was told by a soldier that the
commanding officer would not issue a shoot-on-sight order,
despite the violence, for fear of committing a "procedural
mistake".

"Not even a warning shot was fired. The Armed Forces members
only stood and watched the Dayaks attack our houses. We, the
Madurese, were told to stay put and not retaliate.

"But how could this be? If we're attacked, we had to defend
ourselves," Tadjul said.

Tadjul chose to escape and brought his family to the capital
of Pontianak, some 260 km away.

Tadjul said he did not know how many Madurese had been killed
in the widespread violence, but he believed there were "many". "I
saw dead bodies lying on the road when I escaped," he said.

Tadjul acknowledged that many Madurese were financially better
off than the Dayaks because of the former's skill in trading.
However, he added, "We used to have a good relationship with our
Dayak neighbors, especially those who converted to Islam. When
violence broke out, our good neighbors turned their backs on us
and chose not to see what was happening to us out of fear of the
other Dayaks," he said.

Tadjul and some 300 other Madurese then decided to leave West
Kalimantan and return to their hometown of Prancak village,
Sepulu district, Bangkalan, some 70 km north of Surabaya, the
capital of East Java. "We have nothing left. All of our
belongings were burned by the Dayaks," he said.

Tadjul said he was sad not only because the military had
failed to help the Madurese or contain the violence, but also
because the provincial office of the Ministry of Social Services
in Pontianak refused to help the refugees. "We returned to Madura
on a ship with no help from the office at all," he said.

Looking back, Tadjul said the violence seemed to be
choreographed. "The attacks were well planned and on target," he
said.

The youth who started the brawl and stabbed two Dayak youths
during the dangdut show late December was not even Madurese,
Tadjul insisted. The youth was a Malay adopted by a Madurese
family. But during the first truce, the Dayak family whose son
was wounded in the brawl promised they would not seek revenge.

Widespread

Zainul Amin, 28 years old, was an Arabic teacher at the
Miftachul Ulum Islamic boarding school in Jirak village,
Samalantan district, West Kalimantan, some 80 km away from
Sanggau Ledo.

"I never thought the violence could spread to my area," he
said. Zainul, his wife and a child, were among the hundreds of
Madurese who fled Samalantan to Singkawang before leaving for
Madura. Like Tadjul, Zainul came to West Kalimantan in 1990 to
teach. "I'll never return there again. There's no guarantee we
will ever be safe. The place is too prone to unrest."

One of the sights that Zainul found difficult to forget was
the dead bodies lying on the roads as he and the other Madurese
made their escape. "I didn't know the Dayaks had intended to
eliminate us all," he said.