Townspeople still jittery over quakes

Townspeople still jittery over quakes

Ati Nurbaiti, The Jakarta Post, Meulaboh

The wind is blowing in a strange way. Look at the water -- it's
quivering. And the clouds are of a strange shape and color. And
did you feel a quake just now?

Such are the snatches of conversation in various parts of the
town. It seems what is needed is both an early warning system --
instead of separate analyses by each and every jittery person --
and also a crash course in trauma healing for all parties working
with the young and old here, and those assisting authorities. The
trouble is -- you need all that at the same time and preferably
right now.

With all the regional and international conferences on early
warning systems and various organizations involving
psychologists, psychiatrists, consultants and scientologists,
meeting that challenge may not be impossible. In any case it's
evidently urgent.

As townspeople in this town on Aceh's west coast continue to
try to rebuild their lives, like other Acehnese and those in
North Sumatra they scrambled to save their skin and loved ones
all over again at the time of the Nias quake on March 28.

Experts predict other quakes along Sumatra, with no guarantee
that people need not fear a tsunami until the next 500 years or
so.

In a community health center downtown, a translator for the
French medics says they are seeing half the number of usual
patients. One work day saw a truckload of villagers eager to meet
the new, foreign doctors while on Thursday there were only about
50. She says locals were mindful of earthquakes predicted on Apr.
4 to Apr. 7, but no major tremor was felt.

Healing and helping entire communities and their different
members after a rare event of entire towns and villages wiped
out, amid the probability that it may happen again, is a field
that few are familiar with, and many are just doing what they
can. Many parties who have been working with the locals here
since the tsunami are either trying to fill in the gaps, like
teaching, or creating initiatives.

The French medics working at the local community health
center, for instance, spread out sheets of drawing paper and
colored pens, so youngsters can draw while waiting with their
parents. Their work is then displayed on the outside wall of the
building, the sketches bright and pretty. But even until a few
weeks ago, one of the doctors, Sibylle Bevilacqua, said a little
girl asked for a black pen, as she needed to draw the dark, giant
waves that ate up the whole town.

And the most complaints reported to the health center?
Headaches, gastric problems, apart from skin problems, and also
hypertension, says Bevilacqua, who with the rest of her team
signed up with the Red Cross in their country.

"Surprisingly," she adds, "people here will acknowledge that
they have post-tsunami syndrome." And with that she can advise
patients to first consult a psychologist before administering any
drugs.

Like her, her colleagues have been in tragedy-hit countries
before -- whether it's war, famine or a hurricane. There is
something in common -- the contrite features, "the sadness","
says pediatrician Sylvie Cavare-Viqneron, who has worked among
others in the former Yugoslavian states.

Perhaps the openness to acknowledge the need for mental help
is thanks to the earlier teams of medics and psychologists, among
others from the Medecins Sans Frontiers, who are among the
hundreds of organizations assisting survivors.

With the young, things are more complicated. They just go
gaily about their play or studies like the broadcasters at the
Radio Matahari, a new radio station.

This is another notable initiative, involving teenagers who
live in the Muhammadiyah orphanage here. It began with the
Jakarta-based Radio 68H, whose director Santoso aimed to fill in
the information gap through a community radio. The leaders of the
Muhammadiyah organization here appointed the orphanage to run the
station, as a measure to help them learn to be self-sufficient
and also to help overcome trauma.

Meanwhile, the volunteers among the teachers who have been
working here since December, are still trying to figure out
whether it is the tsunami contributing to slow students'
response, or whether it is the result of education in Nanggroe
Aceh Darussalam, for years a conflict zone.

"There doesn't seem to be a drive here," says Poppy Mutia from
West Java. "I've taught really bad schools in Bandung and this is
worse, as if there's no need for competition, for achievement."

The volunteers have been here since January and are committed
until July. Unlike a number of male colleagues they have stuck
through thick and thin in the sticky heat, even if the orphanage
where they are staying is still under renovation with dust flying
around their mattresses and cooking utensils.

"This is the consequence of our choice," says a cheerful
teacher of English, Wiwit Barokah. What they need most is for
children to stay in class, and not have their parents coming to
pick them up each time there's a rumor of a quake or the tide
rising.

"Just imagine," says Ana Basirah, another volunteer from
Yogyakarta who teaches math. "One child points to a dark cloud
and everyone's shouting 'It's doomsday!' and the entire class
pick up their bags and rush out. Doomsday indeed!"