The heartaches of an island paradise
Indonesia has had a rough time of it this decade. Just three years after an 8.9 earthquake ripped through the sea off the coast of Sumatra, triggering the devastating tsunami that left 220,000 around the Asian rim dead, another three earthquakes have hit the nation of islands. The first struck Wednesday about 80 miles southwest of Bengkulu, registering 8.4, the world’s strongest this year. Not long afterward, a 7.8-magnitude quake hit 115 miles southeast of Padang. Finally, a smaller quake rippled off the northern tip of Sulawesi. Perhaps this is simply the price for being an island paradise, but if so, it seems a steep one.
The big fear, of course, was a repeat of the tsunami that wiped out so much of Asia’s coastline before. After the first quake hit yesterday, thousands fled inland in terrified memory of that disaster, but only a surge of about one meter hit Sumatra, and according to the meteorology agency, the danger for anything worse has passed. That is good news. Even still, at the time I write this, nine people have been confirmed dead from the tremors, 40 are injured, and countless more lives have been cruelly impacted in one way or another in dealing with destroyed buildings and power outages.
It was nine years ago that I first visited Indonesia. It was my first trip to Asia and I had a one-way ticket into Denpasar. I didn’t know much about the country, really. I just knew I wanted to backpack around Asia and the tickets into Bali were super cheap. What I failed to realize in my rosy naivety was that the tickets were cheap and the airplane largely empty for a reason. The country was deep in the throes of an economic recession that swept much of Asia in ‘97/’98, and before I left its troubled shores for Malaysia two months later, I would see the currency devalued 700%, cars overturned and burned, shops of ethnic Chinese looted and destroyed, and a dictator, Suharto, forced to step down. It was also during this time that Frank Sinatra died. Not sure what that has to do with anything else, but the two stories shared headline time on CNN Asia, and you never know. After all, if a butterfly wing can set off a tidal wave halfway around the world, who knows what havoc the passing of Old Blue Eyes wreaked.
Sumatra, the island that’s been hardest hit with the recent natural catastrophes, is also the island I remember most fondly from my travels in the country. The jungles, the small towns, and the easy-going people were such a welcome contrast from the crowded, pent-up aggression that we’d just left in Java (I was traveling with my now sister-in-law Paige, and two British girls we’d met along the way). We took a boat from Jakarta to Padang, a three-day journey through, what we later learned, were pirate-infested waters. The food was awful onboard (each meal served was nothing more than a wad of rice and a shriveled chicken leg), the sleeping rooms were common, and there was no place to shower or do much of anything besides relieve oneself. But as the pirates let us be, I’ll call it a good trip.
Once on land, we headed for Bukittinggi, and from there to Lake Toba. It was on this island peacefully situated in the middle of a lake, while sipping fruit lassis, that we tuned into CNN Asia for the first time since leaving Java, and saw the images of Jakarta in flames. And that Frank Sinatra had died. Apparently, shortly after we left, riots erupted throughout the city. I’m not sure if Frank Sinatra died before or after this, but I don’t think our leaving had anything to do with either event. Because we left Jakarta several days earlier than planned and had not informed our stateside loved ones of this decision, it seemed like a good time for a call home.
They were panicked, of course. The way CNN portrayed it, the whole country was on the verge of fiery collapse, and they’d heard nothing from us in a week. Nothing could have been further from our experience, though. Lake Toba was the picture of tranquility, as was Bukittinggi, and Bukit Lawang, a little further north, where we later traveled to hang with the orangutans. The disparity between our experience and what the locals must have been experiencing was startling with every story we heard. Nestled in Bukit Lawang, we tubed down the river with loads of other young travelers, gawked at the orangutans, ate well in the evening, and read our picturesque guidebooks. All that really affected us in our jungle wonderland were unstable prices. But when the exchange rate is somewhere between 8,000 and 10,000 rupiah to the US dollar, and you wind up paying 10 rupiah more for dinner, it would take a hard-core miser to complain much.
But even as we floated and played, the stories started creeping in. Tales of riots and unrest in Medan just down the road. And other stories, country-wide, of disturbing racial incidents. Much of the anger was being directed toward the ethnic Chinese whom many perceived to be taking jobs and wealth from native Indonesians. Many were in hiding as their shops and homes were destroyed.
At one point, we expressed our unease for the growing violence to a local travel agent who brushed it aside saying, “Oh, they may stop the car, but they’ll look in and see none of you are Chinese and let you go.”
“What if we were Chinese?” I asked.
He shrugged, “They’d pull you out and burn the car.”
Eventually, I suppose the State Department had had enough, and told all US citizens to clear out. But this was a feat easier said then done. By this time, the currency was fluctuating up to 14,000 rupiah to the dollar (in happier times, it was only 2,000 rupiah to the dollar), no one would accept credit cards or cash travelers checks, and ATMs were being unplugged all over. If you didn’t already have cash, you were mostly SOL. On top of that, all flights out were completely booked. There was a port in Medan with boats to Penang, Malaysia, but getting there was going to be a trick; those seats were quickly booking out as well, and the reports of riots and tanks rolling through the streets of the city were worrisome.
Finally, after loads of phone calls and lots begging, we finally found a bus that would take us on a credit card. Halfway to the city and in the middle of nowhere, however, it stopped, and the driver and his companion insisted we pay another $50 each or they would kick us off the bus. We argued, of course, but there was little we could do in the end, but say, “Fine.” We were incensed at the time, but in hindsight, I think we got off cheap.
We made it to Medan, even found a room, and long story short, Paige and I finally found seats on a boat heading to Panang the day after Suharto stepped down from power. It was truly fascinating. When the announcement came over the news channels that Suharto would step down and Jusuf Habibie take over, the streets and bars everywhere erupted into cheers, and the celebration continued all night. It was so heartening to see the local population jubilant after such a span of collective hardship and grief. But at the same time, I was a little sad. The downfall of Suharto was something to celebrate, but the country still had a lot of work and further hardship ahead to heal the wounds it had suffered. And who was to say the next leader would be any better?
Every time I hear of a new set of troubles besetting Indonesia—from floods to nightclub bombings—I think of the two months I spent there. I think how, despite those few moments of intensity, my experience was nothing in comparison to what the locals faced. And yet they kept on doing what they had to do: going to the market, raising their kids, worshipping at the mosque, serving food to the wearisome tourists…life as usual. That’s just what people do, whatever their nationality. There’s a big difference, philosophically, between a natural disaster and a human-manufactured one, but the suffering is the same. And really, the people who are most affected are the ones least in a position to do anything about their situation in both cases.
I wish you well, my friends in Indonesia, as you deal with this most recent calamity. Take heart, I have a feeling Ol’ Blue Eyes is looking down and encouraging Lady Luck to intervene on your behalf as well.