Three years of living dangerously

Three years of living dangerously

The United Nations Children's Fund (Unicef), which has been
facilitating peace, reconciliation and reconstruction in war-
ravaged Ambon, invited The Jakarta Post's Pandaya to take a close
look at its work in the area, and at daily life for the people of
Ambon.

The devastating three-year sectarian conflict in Maluku has
pushed the multiethnic and multireligious territory back to
square one.

The violence has not only destroyed private houses, public
facilities and economic resources, but it has also shattered the
harmony of the community. People who for decades had taken pride
in the peaceful coexistence of people of different religions and
ethnic groups, as proclaimed in the famous pela gendong
philosophy, are now having to relearn the ABC's of peace and
tolerance.

Although people are talking about the improving situation in
Ambon, the war has segregated the population into Christian and
Muslim zones. And people refrain from crossing the demarcation
lines between the two communities because tension still colors
daily life here.

Although there have been no new communal clashes over the past
months, a sense of insecurity remains because of a string of
bombings. The latest major incident took place on July 27 when a
bomb went off in a Christian neighborhood, injuring 53 people.

Late last month, a powerful homemade bomb was found in a trash
can near the SMPN 17 state junior high school, which is being
held up as a model of reconciliation. And last week, a land mine
killed one person in the Christian area of Galela.

The Army maintains a heavy presence in the border areas
between Christian and Muslim communities, and the Maluku Civil
Emergency Administrator has kept in place the 10 p.m. to 5 a.m.
curfew.

The separation in Maluku based along religious lines has
brought with it consequences that no one could have imagined.
Government offices, schools and other public institutions have
been split between Christians and Muslims.

The widespread destruction of government offices has given
rise to the establishment of kantor alternatif, temporary
buildings that serve the public until permanent offices can be
rebuilt.

Most public services have been crippled. Christian garbage
truck drivers cannot enter the dump located in the Muslim zone,
and vice versa.

"This explains why Ambon has lost its shine in terms of
cleanliness," said Barry, a resident. "Everywhere you go, you
will see heaps of trash and breathe foul-smelling air."

Before the conflict, the hilly Ambon was a three-time winner
of the Adipura Award, which the central government bestows to
cities for sanitation and cleanliness.

And for cars from neutral organizations that want to drive
from one zone to another, drivers must be changed. So when the
car reaches the border, the driver will radio in for another
driver of the same religion as the zone that the car is about to
enter. Once the new driver arrives, the trip can be continued.

Visiting relatives of a different religion who live in another
zone has become a cumbersome affair.

"First they have to make an appointment by phone or letter,
then they meet in a neutral zone," said housewife Christina
Latuihamallo, adding that although it is safe in the Christian
area for such visits, most people just wouldn't take the risk.

The neutral zone refers to a few areas in Ambon where members
of the two religious communities have set aside as peaceful
areas. These zones are usually near police or military offices.

This situation has given rise to bakubae markets or pasar
rekonsiliasi, where business overcomes religious enmity.

The postal service here is also in disarray, again because
postmen can only enter certain zones, according to their
religion.

"It's usual to get packages only three months after they
arrived at the central post office because of the complex
delivery system," said an employee of an international
organization.

Once admired for their cleanliness and spacious sidewalks,
main streets in Ambon have been transformed into pasar kaget,
market places that sprung up after traditional markets were
burned down or had fallen under the control of one or the other
warring side.

Just across from the charred remains of the governor's office,
people from the two religious communities mix and play soccer,
basketball or run a few laps around the track.

Public minivans still roam the streets, blasting out rock
music from their stereos, but they have to make a U-turn at the
border and let their passengers scramble for other modes of
transport. But thanks to the improving situation here, public
vans in Christian areas have begun plying the Ambon-Galela route,
which passes by Muslim villages.

Most of the roadblocks have been removed, but in some enclaves
roads are half-blocked to allow security checks by the military.

Amazingly, for outsiders, despite all the tension here people
continue to display their religious symbols. In the Christian
territories, girls and boys wear crucifixes. Roadside stalls,
shops, cars and houses are decorated with pictures of Jesus
Christ. And in the Muslim areas, people wearing Muslim clothes
and Arabic calligraphy is ubiquitous.

Nobody can tell when, or if, life will return to normal in
Ambon and Maluku in general.

"Many fear that the situation will heat up again ahead of the
December gubernatorial election," said Barry, one of those here
who believe that the conflict has become a political commodity
for the power-hungry.