After the tsunami: how Aceh returned to everyday life
A devastating tsunami engulfed large coastal areas in Asia and East Africa in 2004. With over 170,000 dead, the Indonesian province of Aceh was hardest hit. The survivors proved to be remarkably resilient as they returned to everyday life. Anthropologist Annemarie Samuels went to live in Aceh, and has written a book about it.
Back to that fatal day, 26 December 2004. The Indian Ocean was struck by an earthquake of an unprecedented scale. Tidal waves several stories high hit 13 countries in Asia and Africa, and more than 230,000 people drowned or were killed by debris. At 160 km, the Indonesian province of Aceh on the island of Sumatra was closest to the epicentre. For minutes on end, the Indonesians felt the earth shake violently. Some coastal inhabitants walked down to the sea because it was acting so strangely: it was retreating. Only to return some time later as a ten-metre-high tidal wave that destroyed everything in its path. Samuel’s book, ‘After the Tsunami,’ is a reworking of her dissertation from 2012, supplemented with new research.
What angle does the book take?
‘The book tells stories about the reconstruction process, from the perspective of the survivors. I first went to live in Aceh for six months in 2007. Most of the replacement houses had just been finished, and the first families were returning. At that point, the entire social structure was being rebuilt. I lived with a host family in a village that had been swept away by the tsunami. Thanks to previous research in Yogyakarta, I already spoke Indonesian. In interviews, people told me how the disaster had affected them. I also did a lot of participant observation: what is daily life like and what do people come up against? I then returned every year to follow the inhabitants, and ended up spending a further year living there in 2013-2014.’
Were people willing to speak openly about the disaster?
‘Yes, most of them were. They told me to bring the story back to the Netherlands with me. Wherever I went, for instance in coffee houses or on the bus, you’d hear people ask each another where they were during the disaster. Whole villages were washed away, and over half of the capital, Banda Aceh, was fully destroyed. I spoke to all sorts of different people: women, men, fishermen, civil servants and so on. They often told their stories very expressively, using their whole bodies to explain how the gigantic tidal wave had come so suddenly and how they had lost their loved ones. One man told me that he lost his wife in the first wave but managed to hold his daughter up above his head, only to lose his grip on her when the second wave came.’
What struck you about all these stories?
‘That many people linked their experiences to a public narrative such as: “People from Aceh are strong and religious.” That’s also the message conveyed by leaders, of course. But even before the tsunami, the people of Aceh already treasured their image as the most pious people of Indonesia. That’s an essential part of them. They don’t put it on for the cameras.’
What was the mood when you arrived in 2007?
‘There was obviously still a lot of sorrow, but in general, people were optimistic about the future. In a country such as the Netherlands, there would probably be a lot more discussion about responsibility and why there was no tsunami warning system. But that was very different in Aceh. It has always been a turbulent area with the legacy of a big colonial war and a violent civil war in the years before 2004. It was thanks in part to the tsunami that the civil war ended. Many Indonesian and foreign aid organisations were still present in 2007. The eyes of the world are on us, they thought. They saw it as a new beginning and generally interpreted the tsunami from a religious perspective.’
In what way?
‘Islam plays a key role in Aceh, and many inhabitants view the tsunami as a disaster sent by God. People told me that the tsunami came to solve the civil war. Some Islamic leaders suggested it was a punishment for Aceh. But most people saw it as a sign of God’s love. To give them, with an eye to the hereafter, the chance to create a better world. People were therefore sad, but at the same time very resilient. Many men and women who had lost their families remarried within a year.
‘After the tsunami, Sharia, Islamic law, was introduced in the area. It was already permitted in 2001, but the process speeded up after 2004, stemming from the idea of creating a better society. But the opinions on this vary. Critics suggest that the poor, women and LGBT people have not benefitted from the introduction of Sharia, and that it hasn’t affected corrupt people at all.’
The aid organisations left in 2007. How are things now in Aceh?
‘A great deal was invested in the infrastructure and houses. Much less, however, in economic reconstruction. The residents said: I’ve got a house, but I can’t eat that. I saw people become disheartened because there was still corruption. Unemployment and poverty remained, and that is something they blame the Indonesian government for. What we do see is that, thanks in part to the new infrastructure, Aceh is much less isolated than before. More tourists have been coming since the tsunami, notably from neighbouring countries such as Malaysia. There is even a Tsunami Heritage Trail, and you can take a tour of the mass graves.’
Text: Linda van Putten
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Annemarie Samuels’s book will be launched on Friday 20 December, at the remembrance event ‘Atjeh: Fifteen Years after the Tsunami’ Resa Idria, a researcher from Banda Aceh, will also give a lecture. Idria, a PhD candidate at Harvard University, also conducts research into the impact of the tsunami. Time: 15.00 – 17.00 hours. This will be followed by drinks. Location: Room 1A01, Faculty of Social and Behavioural Sciences, Wassenaarseweg 52 Leiden. Please send an email to a.samuels@fsw.leidenuniv.nl if you would like to attend.