Below is a piece written by my Canadian friend, Amelia Merrick, interim national director for World Vision Indonesia. She has the privilege of traveling quite a bit throughout the islands of Indonesia, and unfortunately she also has opportunity to witness some pretty sad, overwhelming events. Many of these events are caused by natural disasters, such as one of Indonesia's most recent ones, the eruption of Mount Merapi in Jogjakarta. Merapi is 8 hours from us by train, one and a half hours by plane.
"Children greet me as I open the car door at the Kali Adem Displacement Camp. To my left is a group of boys hanging around a small leaf-less tree while they read comics together. A couple of girls sit off to the side peeling and placing stickers in their activity book, enthralled by the delicate and colourful images. A large blue tent is to the left and from within the tent I hear children’s laughter. Three university students, with cool printed t-shirts and funky hair styles are in the tent, showing a dozen pre-teens how to take photos and play guitar. If I didn’t know better, I would think this were summer camp.
But moving inside the long and hot community centre I am instantly brought back to reality. This is a Displacement Camp where 400 people from Kali Adem, a tiny dairy village at the very top of Mount Merapi, are now without homes, cows or fields. Mothers, fathers, grandmothers and babies sit on rolled mats, colorful walls of neatly folded clothes mark out their family’s space. A few drinking glasses, weathered school books, motorcycle helmets and beaten card-board boxes that safely store the last remains of their belongings are stacked in the 4 x 6 space they now call home. Fresh laundry - faded jeans, bras and underwear, children’s pyjamas – are strung across every window pane and doorway.
I go to meet the village leader – she is a slight woman draped in a shiny purple head scarf. She shows me a picture of her village - it is a whitened moonscape, lava has covered their entire village. It looks like a desert dusted with ash, or like a barren field after a heavy snow fall. There is no evidence of homes, cows or fields. It is just grey and dusty. Before I can write down the name of this fragile village leader she breaks into tears. I have been to dozens of Displacement Camps but still there are never words to comfort someone who has lost everything.
I speak to Ibu Suyami (38) and Ibu Dartoyaho (55) and they tell me they are confused. They have moved seven times since Mount Merapi starting spewing its noxious gases. Their first Displacement Camp is now singed black, the boxes of emergency supplies burned by the hot volcanic cloud. The second Displacement Camp was too crowded. They are like “The Fish out of Water” – being transferred from one cramped bowl to the next, on a desperate journey to find a place that can hold them. Though this community centre is too small for their village they are glad that they are have settled amongst their neighbors again. At least they are together with friends and family.
Ibu Suyami and Ibu Dartoyaho tell me that they have lost everything – there houses are gone, their cattle are dead. They don’t have a plan, they don’t know what comes next. They are bored living in the camp. They miss their work. The children want to play soccer again.
It was over a month ago that they ran from their villages, and while they are glad to be alive they long for an end to this terrible nightmare. Sadly, the world has already woken and the people of Mount Merapi are quickly being forgotten as we move into our busy day."
Thanks for reading, and thanks Amelia for letting me "borrow" your post.
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