Life on the ring of fire
Philip Jenkins, Former WHO Staff member
Almost all the television-owning people of
the world remember the South-East
Asian tsunami of 26 December 2004. But
how many remember the earthquake that hit the
area around Jogyakarta, Java, on 27 May 2006? In
the space of one minute it brought down hundreds
of thousands of houses and left six thousand dead,
nearly twice the number of people killed in the
World Trade Centre attack of September 2001.
Why do terrorist-inspired deaths attract so much
more attention than those resulting from natural
disasters? Probably it depends whether they happen
in a “developed” country or not. And why are
the world’s newspapers constantly full of stories
about the violence and wars perpetuated by Man
(as opposed to Woman), rather than the day-to-day
joys or sufferings of the world’s people?
Even if we no longer read anything about
them, all those hundreds of thousands of Javan
families do still exist, only partially in some
cases, and are slowly overcoming the shock of
seeing their houses disintegrate
around them. Most of them are
still living in tents and wondering
where they will find the money to
rebuild their homes, when the
prices of bricks, cement and all
the other materials are doubling
due to the enormous demand.
We, in our comfortable European
homes, rest assured that if
fire or some other catastrophe
should destroy them, then the
insurance company will take
care of everything. In Indonesia,
and most other “developing”
countries, house insurance is
almost unknown. If you lose your
house you have lost almost everything,
especially if it has collapsed
on your only means of transport: a bicycle
or motor cycle.
Late on 26 May I sent a text message to a
friend who lives close to Prambanan, the huge
ninth century Hindu temple complex that lies 15
km to the north-east of Jogyakarta. Due to the
time difference, it arrived in Java at 5.30 am the
next day. So, when the earthquake struck 25 minutes
later, she was already awake, able to arouse
her father, brother and 2-year-old niece, and run
outside as the brick walls started to fall. Her
mother, though, was in the middle of showering.
With no chance of running outside unclothed,
she was crushed under the collapsing masonry.
Two months after the earthquake I travelled
to Jogyakarta to transmit to the local relief organization
the money donated by WHO staff as a
result of a long-distance run. The money will
help the relief effort, but equally important to
the victims (and this was the reason for handing
it over personally) is the knowledge that, in spite
of the media’s loss of interest, there are people
15,000 km away who are thinking of them and
want to help them return to their previous lives.
The scene that greeted my eyes when I
reached Prambanan was one of complete
destruction, comparable only with the photos I’d
seen of European cities at the end of WWII. And
yet, amid all this devastation, the occasional
house stood almost intact, its painted walls and
colourful tiles a stark contrast to the piles of
bricks and grey dust and a reminder of what the
town looked like before it was shaken to bits.
The other survivors were the banana, jackfruit
and mango trees planted in people’s gardens,
witnesses to the resilience of nature compared
to the fragility of human structures.
I slept the first night in a tent erected by a family
within the ruins of their house. Next morning
I awoke to the sounds of Javan village life: cocks
crowing, the family’s flock of geese quacking and
the call to prayer from the nearby mosque. At 5
am the family started their daily chore of slowly
taking down the remaining cracked walls in
order to salvage as many bricks as possible. Just
to be doing something positive like this is of psychological
benefit to people who have had their
everyday lives shattered so abruptly. This gives
them the hope that one day they will be able to
start rebuilding, though they know that with so
many houses affected they cannot count on any
government help.
With five others I went to Bantul, the nearest
town to the earthquake epicentre, to visit a
group of children traumatized by the loss of
their homes and, in many cases, a family member.
We spent the afternoon talking with them,
playing games, singing and drawing. July is in
the middle of the dry season, so for the moment
at least the clearing-up work is not plagued by
daily downpours which, towards the end of the
year, will be making life very miserable for those
still living in tents.
The earthquake was preceded by the eruption
of Merapi, the world’s sixth most active volcano.
It lies on the Pacific “Ring of Fire” just 25
km due north of Jogyakarta and required the
evacuation of 20,000 villagers from its fertile
lower slopes. And it was followed one month
later by a tsunami that killed over 600 people
along the south Javan coast. All this serves to
underline the precariousness of life in many
parts of the planet, something that we who live
far from any of the tectonic plate boundaries seldom
think about.
Contributions to the local relief fund can be sent
to :
Wisma Bahasa, Jalan Rajawali, Gg. Nuri # 6,
Demangan Baru, Jogyakarta, Indonesia 55281
heri@wisma-bahasa.or.id
philippejenkins@yahoo.com
© 2006 UN Special |