Medical worker's story of Maluku's civil war
Medical worker's story of Maluku's civil war
By Santi W.E. Soekanto
JAKARTA (JP): Orthopedic surgeon Basuki Supartono and his wife
Prita Kusumaningsih, a gynecologist, knew what lay in store when
last September they both agreed to participate in a residency
program conducted by the Ministry of Health and relocate to
Ternate, located in the northern part of war-torn Maluku where
some 90,000 refugees have been languishing for months.
First, they had to uproot the family -- sending two of their
eldest children to Islamic boarding schools (pesantren), leaving
the house in the care of relatives and friends, and taking the
two youngest children, only two and seven years old, with them.
Next, the couple, part of a team of 30 medical workers, had to
brace themselves for the ugliness of war in the beautiful city of
Ternate, where one can see the mountain and sea from anywhere.
"The beauty is breathtaking, its natural resources lie in
abundance, from cloves, copra, pepper, to fish," Basuki told The
Jakarta Post in a recent interview during a week's leave in
Jakarta. "But the ugliness of war taints peoples' lives."
He said Muslim refugees from various parts of the
predominately-Muslim North Maluku and predominately-Christian
Maluku have been living in cramped quarters of various abandoned
properties in the town where privacy has become non-existent.
Rape has occurred frequently, including two cases where the
victims were girls of 8 and 10 years old, he said.
The team soon reopened the Dharma Ibu Hospital, a private
property belonging to a Christian, but it was abandoned during
the peak of the unrest, which first erupted in 1999. Refugees
soon flocked to the facility, where medicines and equipment
shortages have hampered the doctors' progress.
The refugees receive medical attention for free in this town,
while food supplies are traded at prices even higher than
Jakarta. An egg cost the doctors Rp 1,000 while a chicken is
priced at Rp 50,000.
Basuki recalled going to a Padang restaurant with four friends
and having to pay Rp 100,000. Basuki and Prita take this in their
stride, as they do the fact that they have to pay for their own
accommodation; the six-month rent for their house is Rp 5
million.
To help make ends meet, Prita opened a private practice at
home after work. Her patients are mostly employees of several
large companies still operating in the region. "But if refugees
come to her practice, she will serve them for free," Basuki said
of his wife, who was struck down by malaria in January.
The doctors soon earned the respect of the refugees "because
local medical workers fled the city as soon as unrest broke out,
and here we are, coming from faraway places to serve them,"
Basuki said.
Health clinics organized by several non-governmental
organizations such as the Medical Emergency Rescue Committee and
Justice Party Command Posts for Ummat (PKPU) are swamped by
ailing refugees every day. Due to a shortage of doctors, a high
school graduate and an accountant were trained on the spot to
serve as nurses; they are now skilled in administering
injections, suturing wounds and assisting in surgery.
Basuki was so overwhelmed by the suffering around him that he
could not help but cry upon seeing the first group of refugees
trying to survive their hardship. Thousands had to be
accommodated in a warehouse; each cramped space assigned to a
family was only separated from the others by a makeshift
partition constructed from cement sacks.
Those who did not get a place in the warehouse sheltered
underneath makeshift plastic tents. Sanitation was poor.
Communicable diseases such as diarrhea and respiratory diseases
spread quickly.
"They have been living like this for months and there is not
sufficient help for them," Basuki said. "The local government has
been making preparations to return the refugees to their home
villages, but without sufficient financial assistance how will
they rebuild their lives? Their houses and other property in the
villages have all disappeared during the unrest."
The second and third waves of refugees fleeing the villages
and districts of Ternate, Tidore and Galela and Tobelo -- where
approximately 800 Muslims were slaughtered overnight in a massive
killing spree launched by their opponents -- fared a little
better.
They entered houses and properties abandoned by Christians who
fled Ternate during the unrest. Most of the Christians are now
sheltering in Bitung and Manado, in neighboring Sulawesi
provinces.
"What saddens me the most is the absence of schooling for the
child refugees," said Basuki. "There is also the drug problem,
there are so many teenagers who abuse drugs such as shabu-shabu."
Basuki spoke of how a group of Muslim volunteers from the
Laskar Jihad once surrounded a nightclub -- where locals were
reported to participate in orgies of drugs and sex -- and ordered
them to cease their activities.
The teenagers threw bombs at the volunteers and wounded seven
of them. A colleague of Basuki amputated a leg from one of the
wounded.
Basuki was concerned because, despite being predominately
Muslim, Ternate did not have many signs of an Islamic community.
Basuki was soon known as an ustadz (religious teacher), and
regularly preached during the Friday prayers and in other
gatherings.
"Many have asked me to preach at various places, but my duties
as a doctor for the Ministry of Health prevent me from meeting
those requests," Basuki said. "Maybe later, when I have finished
the six-month residency."
"This is why I am now calling on Muslim paramedics to serve in
North Maluku," he said. "I am also calling on preachers (da'i)
from Java, Sulawesi and Kalimantan to spread the Islamic teaching
in Halmahera, and for entrepreneurs and other professionals to
come and help revive the economy here."
"They don't even have to stay for very long. One year would be
enough. It's not enough to just talk (about concern for the
refugees) from Jakarta," Basuki pleaded.
The writer is a journalist of The Jakarta Post