Banda Aceh

After a few days on Pulau Weh, I made my way back to Banda Aceh. I arrived in the evening after having taken the afternoon ferry back. I quickly went into town and found a place to stay and got rid of my bag. I had a few hours of light left so I went out to explore a little and get my bearings. I spent about an hour walking around the area near the hotel. One of the things I enjoy about new cities is period of exploration or getting my bearings. Whenever I arrive in a new city, I always like to take big blocks of the city and walk them – essentially walking in a big square. It helps me to gain a better perspective of where I am in the city, the size of the city and gives me landmarks to help me navigate over the following days when I’m sure to wander off in search of things and inevitably get a little turned around. Plus it’s a great way to see the city – simply walking around. I passed by some busy markets, one of which was a fish market which in the evening after the afternoon heat didn’t smell too pleasant. Near the river I found a project sponsored by USAID and some incredible views upriver of the main mosque in town. The sky turned menacing and black and the wind picked up so I started to work my way back passing some pool halls whose location I mentally noted so I could return later or the following day. As I walked back, the pangs of hunger which are so common after these long walks returned, I began looking for a food stall – my only criteria being that they have large avocados. I found one, sat down and was immediately engaged in conversation by a young man sitting at the next table. Now this wasn’t extraordinary – in Indonesia, much more so than Thailand, foreigners are fairly rare. The national greeting for foreigners in Indonesia is, “Hello, Mister”! It’s shouted indiscriminately and often. You’ll hear it from, at times, every warm body you pass by on the streets. It’s charming at first, but as the daily grind wears on you this inevitably changes. However, this man’s English and the quality of his thought took me by surprise. Rex owned the shop next door and quickly became one of the more interesting people I’ve met traveling. Over the next few hours we sat there chatting, interrupted only by the need for him to take care of the occasional customer. Originally from Banda Aceh and having lived there all his life and having learned English and spent a good deal of time with foreign aid agencies had a unique perspective on many of the “issues” in Banda Aceh. Banda Aceh is known for its longstanding history of natural disasters, the Boxing Day Tsunami in particular, and its desire for independence from Indonesia.

My first exposure to Banda Aceh came as I was whisked from the bus station to the ferry terminal on the back of a motorcycle on my way to Pulau Weh. We wound our way through villages - each house identical to the others - which had been built by aid agencies after the tsunami destroyed the previous village. Villages which prior to the tsunami were made up of a diverse collection of houses established over many years and whose boundaries often paralleled family lines where now distinguished only by the different aid agencies which built and designed them. The villages quickly gave way to the sea and the shore. We wound along the shore for several kilometers. Looking over my left shoulder towards the ocean, one could only attempt to imagine what others would have been looking at as the huge wave raced towards shored. The shore line was denuded. Even after four years it looked unnaturally bare and featureless. There were a few pockets where some vestiges of life had sprung up along the shore. Buildings were rebuilt, ports and docks refashioned and reopened and these pockets bustled. But they were still dominated by the landscape and barren terrain that lay between them. As I slowly absorbed these powerful images, the landscape which had dominated my vision slowly gave way to another now ubiquitous feature of Banda Aceh – construction.

Passing through those coastal regions twice (on the way to and from the ferry) gave me a limited, but powerful visual understanding of how the tsunami impacted the town. Talking with Rex, and then traveling with him to a few other places, added a more personal understanding to that visual experience. Rex was in Banda Aceh the day the tsunami hit and has been actively involved with the reconstruction of the city. Off and on over the last four years, he’s worked with different aid organizations and rebuilt his own business. He’s been a translator, a guide and a teacher all in addition to running and managing his shop. Rex describes the events and the tsunami and despite the clarity and power of his descriptions my attempts to visualize them fail. The power of this wave defies comprehension. I tell Rex this. Minutes later we are standing at the base of a large ship. Easily 30m tall and 60m long, this massive bulk of steel and iron now sits three kilometers inland -then ocean isn’t even in sight. Originally two kilometers out to sea, this mass was lifted out of the ocean and carried five kilometers to its final resting spot right in the heart of a small village. The village has now been rebuilt, but the ship remains. A small handwritten message has been inscribed on the side of the ship with the date 24-12-2004. The conversation gives way to absolute awe and disbelief but soon we’re driving through many of the new villages built by the aid agencies. They have been hastily built and are all identical – one village, one design. Inconsistencies between villages has resulted in a lot of conflict as one family is given a house with certain specs only to learn that another family is given a different house in a different village which has better specs. Some villages sit empty or unfinished. We headed towards the shore and towards one of the mass graves that were constructed immediately after the tsunami. I wasn’t sure about going. Had I been alone I probably wouldn’t have gone. However, Rex wanted to take me and so we went. It was very simple. A large grassy area surrounded by a small fence with each post carrying one of the many names of Allah in Arabic. They are constructing something in the shell of the old hospital which stands behind the site. The road that passes in front in under construction as is most of the surrounding area. Traffic rumbles by bumping along the dirt road. We join the steady march of cars passing this lone green patch of land and meander along the coast. Our last stop is at a small house which during the tsunami was given an unwelcome addition. A large fishing boat ended up on top of the house with the lower walls remaining intact. Now the house still stands with this boat perched on top. The government had provided funds to turn the house into a museum/memorial of sorts and the house and boat have been stabilized and other work is currently being done. Like matchsticks, these boats were picked up and flung across the city. One ended up here. Another landed in front of Rex’s shop and countless others were found throughout the city. Most have long since been taken apart. Rex tells me about the boat in front of his shop. Casually he mentions that that boat and the area around his shop were cleaned up by a group of Israeli soldiers. That stuck me as interesting. I probed him further and he came back quickly saying that after the tsunami everyone forgot about politics. They welcomed anyone who would come to help. But, he adds, that attitude quickly faded. His frustrations with the government in Jakarta finally surface. The government began to place tremendous restrictions on the movement of aid workers confining them to certain areas. In the case of the Israeli soldiers, eventually they were forced to go home, he claims. Aid was mostly restricted to Banda Aceh. Many of the villages and towns on the west coast are still in shambles. And slowly he transitions into his obviously previously delivered laundry list of grievances with the Indonesian government. He makes no effort to hide the fact that he desires independence, but accepts the fact that achieving that would be difficult. Money, not culture, lies at the heart of his grievances. Corruption, favoritism and bureaucracy top this list. Ironically, those are same criticisms which are listed to me by a woman from Medan as she complains about Aceh and her frustrations with them. I spent several days talking to Rex and others in Medan and still lack a clear picture of the roots of the conflict and its issues, but I’ve at least been given an introduction to it. These few days gave me lots to think about and process, but they have been rewarding. I’m glad I endured the 24 hour return trip to travel to the northernmost tip of this island.

As a last note, I guess I should mention that I'm actually back home now and am finishing the blog entries. I'll try to get them and the pictures finished and up in the next few days.

Bye!