As we approached the community center or meeting place, Nova, our interpreter, thought that only a few people came. We were supposed to meet the older people in this community. He had previously informed us that we were coming in as foreign teachers from one of the local universities in Banda Aceh. There was a seeming discomfort about the notion of taking in false identities using a legal institution but it was the most convenient way to do things at the moment. Apparently the academe invites more trust and introducing ourselves as a non-government organization (NGO) might prompt an expectation of aid. Something we do not really want to happen. Geoffrey, the overall coordinator of this Indonesia meeting, had sternly warned us the day before “not to promise anything” when we reach the community we were supposed to visit today.
Our team of five took off our sandals and followed Nova’s lead as he did the traditional greeting formalities. A sort of handshake, taking both or slightly touching each others hands and pulling your right hand back to touch your nose or your chest. There were initially twenty women inside, so there was already much hand clasping and touching and greeting. When the formalities were about to taper off, the men came from the other entrance of the meeting area, but the women from our team seemed not so sure of the appropriateness of doing the same greeting towards them. Nova and the other male member of the team did the customary greetings.
As we sat down, more and more older people came in until we ended up to around forty women and twenty men. The men were on our left side and the women were on our right. Some of the men sat on the middle of the room, facing the other men, creating a sort of wall between them and the women. The community leader or “katchi” had not yet arrived but we decided to go ahead with the introductions and the supposed purpose of our visit. Nova had to sit down while talking to one side, stand up, walk to the other side, sit down again and talk, and then he’d have to stand up, get back to our side of the circle of people and interpret the responses and comments. He is not a local of the place, and in fact had apprehensions on the people’s response because he was originally from one area of the country that was generally disliked by the local population because they seemed to have a hoard of government power among them. His feelings were unfounded when the meeting progressed, but he had difficulty since there were only a few in the group who knows Bahasa Indonesia. The Acehnese language was considerably different from the national language that another translation was required. There was one woman doing the interpretation for her group, and the men seemed to understand, nodding their heads as Nova spoke. It was only when the katchi, a handsome man in full traditional garb in his mid forties, arrived when the men started giving responses at length.
About a hundred families from the community were lost to the tsunami. The two hundred sixty families that are now living in the community in Lamnga have “barracks” as their homes for the moment. It is not a relocation site, however, since the people have already been living there before the tsunami. Barracks are temporary housing units that can house five to ten families. A single structure is divided into several doors so each unit is relatively private. The toilet and bath facilities are communal, and water sources are from water tanks donated by various international NGOs. The government owned water company had already installed pipelines but water has yet to be distributed from them. The nearest health facility is three kilometers away, and a clinic was to be set up in the camp. A children’s center was right beside the community meeting center where we were congregated. There is also a nearby school for older children. Education seemed important to the older people as their children and grandchildren all went to school, until college.
When the old men were asked what they do during the day, they said they do not work, but include among their hobbies watching soccer on the soccer field within the camp. Chit chatting and getting together was also a daily activity. They are currently living with their families and so most of them do not cook. The three men, who raised their hands when they were asked who among them cooked, were the ones who were living alone. Only six women in the group claimed they were living alone. The women plant, fish, and look for food to sell during the day. They do the usual household chores as well, including cooking. Although originally fishermen and farmers, not many go out to the sea anymore. Fishing is done in water trapped from the sea, and therefore not requiring boats and other fishing implements. The responses to their daily activities generated a stifled chuckle from our team as we figured the men chit-chat while the women fish, plan, and cook.
The number of older people who came to the meeting was a general surprise for the team. Highly cooperative and organized, they came to the meeting through the katchi’s mobilization. There was no formal organization in the community. I wondered if the meeting was something fun for them, as older people, knowing how the psychosocial interaction is very important, and whether there were similar meetings that happened before.
When asked when a person is considered old, they responded that fifty was considered old, when one cannot work anymore. Before the tsunami however, even those who were fifty were economically active. The tsunami has rendered, somehow a weakening effect, but probably not physical. One of their responses, as interpreted, was a “loss of spirit.” It was probably not generally the fear of another tsunami that does not lead them out to the sea anymore. Nova said it was more a sort of despair, that no matter what they do, no matter how they pray, their families cannot come back anymore. There was seemingly a lesser purpose to living when everything that you had been living for had been washed away. With the influx of external aid that came pouring to Aceh after the tsunami, I think that it is the spirit that also needs healing. The people’s resilience will manifest even without international NGOs helping them, but the trauma of the tsunami has not only affected their livelihoods, their health, their social protection rights, but most of all their hearts and spirits.
Looking at the older people that were all around us, we appreciated as a team how they did not seem desperate or depressed. The session did not become a wish list meeting and some of our team members actually had the impression that the older people we talked with were seemingly happy. They did not even scramble for the meager fruits and water that we brought with us to supposedly share with them. Not expecting their high turn out, each person could only be given a piece of fruit. The men took the role of serving as they distributed the fruit, to the women first. The others waited patiently for the items to be handed to them. Some of the men did not even get to have anything, but there were no complaints.
Issues of older people cannot be ignored. It is easy to ask organizations why they do not include older people among their agenda, and we probably know the answers as well. I think the better question to ask is “how can older people’s issues be included in organizations’ agenda?” It is less threatening and allows for less defensive responses. It is also asked in another perspective – that older people’s issues can be included in the agenda, because they should be, we just need to find a way.
The visit to Lamnga was too short to know the older people and the community well enough and come up with conclusions. Maybe someday HelpAge, or its partners, can go back and take more time to make friends. To listen to older people’s stories and what they have to say. To capture wisdom. To impart appropriate new knowledge. To assist them live life anew. To help them in their healing. But then, older people already know how to do these themselves, sometimes though it only takes a little collective action, a little twitching of the arm, a little pushing and pulling.
I hope that Lamnga’s older people will one day find the stronger of themselves – helping each other and other communities in their capacities as caregivers, healers, educators, and leaders. Because they can.
Monday, April 24, 2006
Saturday, April 15, 2006
Letter From Banda Aceh, April 2006
April 2006
Dear Hotaru,
Singing from the nearby mosque is being played on the PA system – for all men to hear. Everyday is like that here in Banda Aceh. Five times a day, starting at five am, the prayers are blared from the speakers. Where there are no speakers, they are played on the radio so you could hear it anywhere you are. After a week of being here, I’ve gotten used to waking up in the mornings because of the prayers. Later this week, I think I have succeeded in sleeping through it, awaking only on the last few minutes before the place returns to the silence that rightfully belongs to the dawn. I manage to go back to sleep. There are several loudspeakers not all broadcasting the same thing and it becomes noisy sometimes. But I have to appreciate how you could not go through the day without being reminded to pray. Everything stands still at one to three pm on Fridays here. People stop, literally, and spend the afternoon in prayer. The expats around have to make sure they get to places where they ought to be, because the local drivers would have to excuse themselves at one pm.
Before we moved to a rented room, I have been spending most days this in the staff house where Clark Kent is assigned. I couldn’t yet manage to go out far by myself because I still haven’t figured the public transport system, and not many people speak English. I also add, as an excuse, the heat. It’s warm and I have to wear long sleeved shirts or blouses. It’s also not easy to go around. Banda is sort of like first class rural Philippines. Banda Aceh is quite a big place though. Not something you could readily tour by walking around.
No job offers came in the five weeks since I started sending out applications, so I guess the job hunting was not as easy as people said it would be – what with the multitude of NGOs that are here. But then, efforts have shifted to transitioning and turn-over work to the locals so job openings for organizations are mostly for locals. I’m shifting to offer my services as a volunteer instead, since it’s already off-timing to start work when Clark Kent’s contract is almost about to finish.
Clark Kent and I temporarily stayed at one of their office’s staff houses. It’s a nice big house with nice big rooms, each with its own bathroom. There’s a garden outside and some fountain-like structure inside, although it’s not working. The owner must be pretty rich. There are quite a lot of houses like this around. I think it was the week before when we had a tour of some of the houses in other areas – also relatively large houses. Some of the Indonesian staff from Clark Kent’s office, knowing we were looking for a place to rent, wanted to help us look around. People were actually willing to move out of the houses they were occupying so they could rent them out to expats ---- at gold mine prices. The influx of international NGOs here has created some sort of gold rush. It is very disturbing for me. This whole rebuilding and rehabilitating Banda Aceh thing is very disturbing for me. It has been a year since the tsunami. During that time, hundreds of people came and are still coming, millions of dollars were spent and are still being spent…. And yet there are still 60,000 people living in tents in the areas affected by the tsunami. This does not include the area where I am. Or where I see most of these foreign samaritans are.
We are now staying in rented room across the staff house. This one belongs to a nice widow whose husband died recently. Five granddaughters whom she has taken care of herself live with her, and one of them is about to graduate from medicine. She would always invite me to come visit her because she knows I stay alone in our room and she’s wanting company because she’s alone during the day. We’ve had some very interesting conversation.
Except for the occasionally disturbing thought that I am not producing a personal income with my time, I’ve been appreciating this time of not having to be tied down formally. I get to have a lot of quiet time. I still don’t have God’s answer on the other purposes of why I am here – including, for example, my contribution to society… but I have learned enough of God that there is also purpose in waiting. So for now, I wait. And try to make my soul ready.
I hope all is well for you this time, wherever you are.
Write me.
Kulibangbang
Dear Hotaru,
Singing from the nearby mosque is being played on the PA system – for all men to hear. Everyday is like that here in Banda Aceh. Five times a day, starting at five am, the prayers are blared from the speakers. Where there are no speakers, they are played on the radio so you could hear it anywhere you are. After a week of being here, I’ve gotten used to waking up in the mornings because of the prayers. Later this week, I think I have succeeded in sleeping through it, awaking only on the last few minutes before the place returns to the silence that rightfully belongs to the dawn. I manage to go back to sleep. There are several loudspeakers not all broadcasting the same thing and it becomes noisy sometimes. But I have to appreciate how you could not go through the day without being reminded to pray. Everything stands still at one to three pm on Fridays here. People stop, literally, and spend the afternoon in prayer. The expats around have to make sure they get to places where they ought to be, because the local drivers would have to excuse themselves at one pm.
Before we moved to a rented room, I have been spending most days this in the staff house where Clark Kent is assigned. I couldn’t yet manage to go out far by myself because I still haven’t figured the public transport system, and not many people speak English. I also add, as an excuse, the heat. It’s warm and I have to wear long sleeved shirts or blouses. It’s also not easy to go around. Banda is sort of like first class rural Philippines. Banda Aceh is quite a big place though. Not something you could readily tour by walking around.
No job offers came in the five weeks since I started sending out applications, so I guess the job hunting was not as easy as people said it would be – what with the multitude of NGOs that are here. But then, efforts have shifted to transitioning and turn-over work to the locals so job openings for organizations are mostly for locals. I’m shifting to offer my services as a volunteer instead, since it’s already off-timing to start work when Clark Kent’s contract is almost about to finish.
Clark Kent and I temporarily stayed at one of their office’s staff houses. It’s a nice big house with nice big rooms, each with its own bathroom. There’s a garden outside and some fountain-like structure inside, although it’s not working. The owner must be pretty rich. There are quite a lot of houses like this around. I think it was the week before when we had a tour of some of the houses in other areas – also relatively large houses. Some of the Indonesian staff from Clark Kent’s office, knowing we were looking for a place to rent, wanted to help us look around. People were actually willing to move out of the houses they were occupying so they could rent them out to expats ---- at gold mine prices. The influx of international NGOs here has created some sort of gold rush. It is very disturbing for me. This whole rebuilding and rehabilitating Banda Aceh thing is very disturbing for me. It has been a year since the tsunami. During that time, hundreds of people came and are still coming, millions of dollars were spent and are still being spent…. And yet there are still 60,000 people living in tents in the areas affected by the tsunami. This does not include the area where I am. Or where I see most of these foreign samaritans are.
We are now staying in rented room across the staff house. This one belongs to a nice widow whose husband died recently. Five granddaughters whom she has taken care of herself live with her, and one of them is about to graduate from medicine. She would always invite me to come visit her because she knows I stay alone in our room and she’s wanting company because she’s alone during the day. We’ve had some very interesting conversation.
Except for the occasionally disturbing thought that I am not producing a personal income with my time, I’ve been appreciating this time of not having to be tied down formally. I get to have a lot of quiet time. I still don’t have God’s answer on the other purposes of why I am here – including, for example, my contribution to society… but I have learned enough of God that there is also purpose in waiting. So for now, I wait. And try to make my soul ready.
I hope all is well for you this time, wherever you are.
Write me.
Kulibangbang
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