Maswar's Water Hose and the Simple Way to Welcome Eid al-Fitr

The sky over Jorong Kayu Pasak, Palembayan District, Agam Regency, West Sumatra, appeared clear on Thursday afternoon. Under the warm sunlight, the remnants of dried mud slowly peeled away from the residents’ yards. Amid the traces of the disaster that had not fully vanished, there was slow but steady movement as people returned, cleaned, and tried to start anew.

In his yard, Maswar (64) gripped a water hose, spraying the soil that still held remnants of mud several centimetres high. The water flowed, carrying away dust and the unpleasant memories that had only recently passed. Beside him, his wife sat silently, staring blankly at the yard that now felt unfamiliar, as if still searching for the old shape of their lives.

“We want to celebrate Eid here, all together here. We’re cleaning the yard first; we’ve been doing this for three days,” Maswar said softly.

The flash flood that struck the area a few months ago had taken away many things. His small shop had vanished without a trace, as had the pond that once served as a source of livelihood. The river, about 200 metres from his house, had turned into a raging current, carrying large stones and tree trunks that smashed everything in their path.

Now, the inside of Maswar’s house had been cleaned by volunteers. However, the yard still held remnants of the disaster. He even had to hire extra labour to lift the deposited soil. Amid the limitations, he devised a simple plan: laying out a carpet in the living room and inviting family to pray together when Eid arrives.

The decision to return home, despite the trauma still lingering, was not easy. His wife, who had suffered a stroke in her right hand, chose to stay in the old house. “Mum wants to be here; Mum’s feelings also need to be looked after; she’s still traumatised,” Maswar said, trying to stay strong.

Not far from there, several other residents were seen manually repairing water channels. Hoes clashed with the still-wet soil, as if symbolising efforts to prevent old wounds from reopening when rain falls.

Yeni (44), who now lives in temporary housing, also returned to her old home. The front part of her house was damaged, with glass broken by the impact of tree trunks during the flood. In the yard, damaged sofas were left piled up, serving as silent witnesses to the power of nature that once raged.

However, for Yeni, the house still held meaning. She cleaned it slowly, preparing a plastic carpet to welcome family members from abroad.