Villagers struggle to survive with little outside aid

THREE weeks after the tsunami in south east Asia, many families in Indonesia are receiving only limited assistance and are growing desperately worried.

Sigli is a large town on the eastern coast of the devastated Aceh province, just 110km from the capital, Banda Aceh, but the only way to reach it is by a road that first plunges south into the densely forested countryside and rises high into the mountains before turning east towards the coast to a region of paddy fields and fishing villages.

The journey takes up to three hours and tests the suspension of even the most strongly built vehicles.

Sigli itself is not faring too badly. The town is also a military base and the army, which lost members when its barracks and prisons were destroyed, had been quick to set up camps with a reasonable standard of facilities.

But a string of small fishing villages stretching out from the town have more or less been left to their own devices.

In the village of Pasirawa, no homes were left standing to house the survivors of the tsunami which killed 195 of its 975 residents.

After three days in the open, as far as they could run from the sea, no one had come to help the survivors so they returned to Pasirawa and embarked on a remarkable feat of skill, spirit and unity.

They salvaged every nail, tool and piece of timber they could and built terraced rows of one-room shacks raised on stilts in the ground of their humble tin roof mosque.

Sections of the low perimeter wall that ran around the site before the wave pushed it over are used as walkways over the mud, while their ornate balustrades serve as steps to the raised terraced homes.

But the ingenuity of the people of Pasirawa cannot solve the problem of the mud that bakes to a soft surface pockmarked with puddles in the searing heat of the morning, only to return to a glue-like sludge in the afternoon downpours.

Nor can their resourcefulness meet all their food needs. A shelter has been erected as a communal kitchen where teams take turns to cook rice and the small local fish that are all that can be caught by the 20 men whose tiny curragh-like river boats survived when the majority, along with the large trawlers, shattered.

A local branch of one of the smaller political parties brings down the rice but apart from the fish, and the wild growing coconuts, there has been no fresh food, fruit or vegetables for three weeks.

A well used before the tsunami is still in use though it too was swamped by the waves. The people say they boil the water first, but no testing has been carried out to ensure it is safe to drink. There are no toilets, only the surrounding salt-smelling fields.

The only other outside help has been two brief visits by medical charities. One, the Jakarta based Obor Berkat Indonesia, arrived in the village on Saturday with two Filipino doctors who tried to get through as many medical examinations as possible in one morning session.

“We’re finding mainly upper respiratory infections, diarrhoea, malnutrition and some dysentery. Over 50% of the people here are in need of medical help,” said volunteer Bobby Gunadi .

“There are also a lot of psychological problems. People say they have difficulties sleeping and that affects their immunity to disease. You’ve seen the hygiene issues and diet - it’s not a good situation.”

In the neighbouring village of Pasypeukanbaru, the tsunami took an even greater toll, killing 205 of the 515 residents.

The people here have also created their own village in the grounds of a much grander mosque but it is not their mosque, it belongs to another district, so they respectfully confine themselves to the strips of earth that form a perimeter square. They have no timber, only tents made from women’s skirts and scarves, sacks, plastic bags and prayer mats.

One large, military-style tent was provided by the local government but 20 families are now living in its sweltering interior.

They are lucky in that they have a well that was not contaminated and the line of water taps used for the Wudhu, the symbolic cleansing ceremony performed by worshippers before attending services, are being utilised as showers.

There are no toilets, however, and donated rice and crackers make up the bulk of their diet.

“We need to have fresh fruit and eggs,” said Mohammedyah, the oldest surviving male member of the community. “We need to build houses.”

He doesn’t know how those needs will be met and is fearful that they will only be addressed if the villagers move away.

The government has already begun relocating IDPs - or Internally Displaced People as people like Mohammedyah and his neighbours are known - out of makeshift and isolated camps and into more central locations.

While wondering about the absence of aid agencies, the people also question the lack of media coverage. Sigli is one of the areas declared out of bounds for journalists without prior authorisation from foreign affairs officials in Banda Aceh, who reserve the right to impose a military escort or refuse a permit to travel. However, the Irish Examiner travelled without permission and was not challenged.

Mohammedyah asked that his plea for help be broadcast. “We cannot stay here but we don’t want to leave,” he said of the dilemma that faces the village. “We want help to build our houses again. This is our home.”