Journey to Aceh

Bereavement. No words could sufficiently describe this feeling :
of grouping through a dark and fathomless abyss while suffering
and excruciating pain deep within one’s heart. As time goes by,
the searing paing becomes all the more unbearable because those
who have been wrenched away from passed away, instantly.
Throught he eyes of the tsunami survivors we conceive how fathomless indeed is the dark abyss.

It’s the same pitch-dark abyss that has swallowed Fahrumi, 32, making him decide to continue living in a taxi. He rents an old yellow car and has converted it into his abode, where he now lives and by which he is now earning a living. All day long, from dawn, to noon, to evening he drives through the streets and lanes of the city, looking for passengers (who are not always there), or just whiling away his life. It is not that Fahrumi has no tent in the refugee camp where he can always return but, he says, “Living in a tent reminds me constantly of my son and wife. I could lose my mind. To this day I haven’t been able to find their bodies”.

There are times when the longing for his departed loved ones torments him so fiercely, forcing Fahrumi to stop at the site where his house once stood: Gampong Blang Oi, Ulee, Banda Aceh. He can find nothing among the ruins, “Just a pile of tiles”. His house, furniture, tools have all disappeared there is nothing left, but yet the memories of his wife and only son keep haunting him.

Download Prolog – Notes of Bereavement

The raging rolling waves swept away not only houses and buildings but also destroyed the virtual walls that had long isolated Aceh. In the blink of an eye, without any preparation or warning, the entire province of Aceh was suddenly laid bare before the eyes of the world. It was a pity that the crumbling of the isolating walls had to be accompanied by the loss of tens of thousands of lives claimed by the killer tsunami.

Along with thousands of journalists and world citizens, I was one of those who gained from the disintegration of Aceh’s isolation. Compared to the period 1988-1999, when Aceh was declared a military operation zone, followed by the imposition of a state of civil emergency between 2002 and 2005, journalistic coverage in this “forbidden region” was relatively much easier now. The opening up of the province was also enjoyed by the local people. One night I invited several friends to have coffeeat a kiosk at Simpang Surabaya, a centre for street vendors in Banda Aceh, the provincial capital. Under a full moon, Sari, 26, a sweet-looking chemistry engineer student from Syiah Kuala University who wore a Muslim headscarf, admitted she felt lucky. “In the past, how could we dare to hang around late into the night? We would have been interrogated by the military,” she remarked as a light, fresh breeze blew.

Coffee kiosks here are more than just places at which to drink coffee. Rek, a popular coffee kiosk site not far from the downtown market, has witnessed countless “encounters” between the Indonesian military (TNI) personnel and members of the separatist Free Aceh Movement (GAM) and local figures. They might have traded greetings, exchanged glances, or just inspected each other’s condition and mood. “It can be said that coffee kiosks function as peace zones. In the jungle we could fight each other or exchange fire, but in Rek, we make peace,” said Hakim, a young man who lives in Banda Aceh. Sometimes, though, a few arrests of GAM members by soldiers took place at the coffee kiosks.

Download Chapter I – Starting From A Coffee Kiosk