Wednesday, May 28, 2008

Disasters

I am in Banda Aceh in the north of Sumatra, Indonesia. The biggest part of this city is new, rebuilt after the Tsunami came on the 26th of December 2004. It is easy to go around without witnessing its past. As an outsider I see a façade. The buildings don’t look so new. Everything looks normal.
My friends who work and live here take me behind the façade. It is a very big backstage. I get lost and hardly understand the signs on the walls, the reason of the curtains or the feelings the loud voices coming from high towers awaken among the many actors.
Aceh is a place recovering from a natural disaster and from an armed conflict. An enormous amount of money, foreign aid workers and compromises with Jakarta (Indonesia’s capital) have shaped today’s environment. Close to unbelievably beautiful beaches for example the Turkish constructed houses. They are basic simple and build in a structured order, marked with a Turkish flag. Many of them are empty. Lieselotte explains how some donors gave a house for every tsunami victim. Children, bachelors, widows, everybody got one house. Many Acehnese however don’t want to live near the sea anymore. Other areas were rebuilt by different donors. Different policies resulted in Tsunami victims who lost everything living in different houses than people who had some minor damages. Some Tsunami victims still haven’t received a new house while others who were not a victim (depending whose categorization you use) did. Clearly there were some misunderstandings with the lists of victims. The quality and size of the houses differ significantly and feed resentments.
A research revealed that the tsunami money was five times bigger than the Marshall help per capita. Often it is said that there is too much money here. The unemployment however is big and for sure things can be improved but ‘left-over’ donor money goes to ‘easy’ infrastructure projects or luxurious accommodation during NGO trainings. This is more a result of the stringent guidelines of donors than of the project implementers.
Banda Aceh is not an easy place. It is not an easy place to live neither to understand. The city is not half empty because former conflict refugees returned. Islamic oriented rules refrain people from saving money and leave them a choice between investing and donating to the poor. Alcohol is prohibited but marihuana is mixed in wedding dishes. Watching others and commanding respect through materialistic status symbols is activity number one among the ‘lazy’Acehnese. Employers who want a more reliable workforce hire Javanese.
The conflict goes back to the independence struggle against the Dutch, the discovery of oil and gas by Exxon Mobile, its ‘military protected’ profits going to Jakarta, a dictatorship oppressing freedom, including religious and cultural freedom and a lack of local leadership when the central power collapsed.
I can’t help it but thinking of Burma. When will the survivors have houses? Will this continuous disastrous attitude of the Junta lead to its collapse? Could the financial and reconstruction aid for the Nargis victims be handled better than the Tsunami money? Could it also provide homes for all those internally displaced people whose villages were burned by the military? Who will provide houses for all those million refugees living abroad? In Aceh evidence of human rights abuses was lost when Tsunami victims were dumped in previously existing mass graves. Will the Junta blame Nargis for all the poverty and abuses? Can the foreigners break through the wall? Will foreigners finally also know that a promise from the military regime doesn’t mean anything? When will the people of Burma know what is happening in their own country? When will my friends be free?

Monday, May 26, 2008

New Horizons

One month ago I left Mae Sot, I left the house of my Burmese friends, my brothers and sisters, and travelled non-stop to the south to cross into Malaysia on the day my visa expired. I arrived in Buttersworth where a man gave me two options: a train to Kuala Lumpur or a ferry to Penang. The latter brought me to Georgetown, the capital of the Island. I was back on the road without the daily delicious fresh Burmese food, the talks with my friends and their Burmese songs I so much loved. Four months had been about Burma and suddenly I found myself roaming through a totally new environment. Loud Indian music accompanied my stroll along the colorful sari shops and food stalls. Calls from the mosque, the strong smell of incense at the beautiful old Chinese temples and the Indians in their own unique clothes welcomed me in this peaceful multicultural country. I knew that also this time route indicators would become visible and along the way this country will show itself to me. I would leave again with a hunger to know more, with addresses and memories.

I stayed a few days in Georgetown before heading to a small fisherman village where I met Ahwy Lim, a Chinese-Malay in his forties. I spent 6 days on the fish farm his younger brother Amin rebuild after the Tsunami destroyed most of it in December 2004. It was my first time to see the remnants of this storm and to talk to its victims. It was exactly when cyclone Nargis hit Burma. Sai, 24 from Rangoon, lives also on the fish farm, earning money for his family in Burma with the water sport facilities Amin runs on Monkey beach. He has been hiding from the police both under the fish farm and in the jungle behind the beach. He left his family in 2005, speaks fluent Malay, plans to apply for a passport, to officially exchange his Buddhist believes to become a Muslim and marry a local girl he fell in love with. Or going back! His heart is torn. Only 5 days after the devastating storm he was able to contact his sister. Sai became part of the family Lim, just like me during that week. We would visit father Lim at his house near the harbour, 5 minutes by boat from our floating fish farm, who cooked for us the most delicious fish I have ever eaten. Also Ahwy has friends in Burma, in the northern Shan state. His Chinese-Malay friend runs a rubber plantation after he quit dealing in opium and amphetamines. Ahwy spent 7 years in jail and miraculously was not executed like his friends. Counselors have brought him from a very destructive and wrong path to who he is today, a kind man who knows and values life. We became good friends and talked for hours. He builds houses and refuses new offers of his mafia bosses. I woke up every morning witnessing amazing sunrises from my hammock on the fish farm, during the days I reflected. I was welcome to stay as long as I wanted but an Estonian friend in Singapore awaited me.

It’s late in the evening when I buy samosa ‘at the corner’ back in Georgetown; “Where do you come from? How old are you? What do you do tomorrow?” In Asia you get used to these questions, I answer with my usual: “No plans”. “Do you want to go for dinner tomorrow?” “Fine”. I met Kamal the next day at 20.00 ‘at the corner’. He takes me for Tandoori Chicken but doesn’t eat himself. Kamal is a skater who used to attend world competitions, he sells his fantasy drawings for local media and has just written a 400 pages thesis to get his master degree in sociology. A diploma that will give him a better position at the United Overseas Bank where he worked after his bachelor studies in business administration. His interest in politics and sociology on the other hand led to a meeting via his uncle to talk about a position as a university lecturer. Kamal had lost his girlfriend when he went for drinks on the Batak Ferringi beach. This was on December 26th in 2004. Another evening I ran into Kamal’s friends Darsh and Fadzil ‘at the corner’. We talk about religion, values, life and dreams. Darsh shows me the jewelry stall he runs every evening with a friend in front of the old Indian theatre. Many Asians make their living with many small things but Malaysia also has its shiny shopping centers, big roads and modern buildings which surprise me a lot. I went to the movies, which felt like home, found a Body Shop and realized I also finally had entered a space where our alphabet is used.

On the morning I set of for Singapore I meet Matt ‘at the corner’. Matt is Australian and we had spent some time together in February in Mae Sot. I delay my departure and we set off for a tour around the Island. We investigate the World War from Malaysian perspective at a museum and enjoy the tropical nature. Funny little world, “See you in Australia”, I shout.

Even after the theatre of wealth I saw in Penang I could not help it and stared at Singapore, its buildings, people, shops and attitudes. Annika, my Estonian friend who lives in this city state, and I talked and talked until we suddenly left for Sumatra, another new world, with new people, stories and views along the roads. We entered into the world of a group of young guys whose lives turn around lake Toba, fish, deep family roots, few tourists, frustrations, palm wine and dreams of Bali and education. Pung found us at the harbour in Parapat and brought us to Juan’s guesthouse. We were the only and first guests. Another place that was hard to leave.

With the help of Mardinal, an old man from the tourist information at Medan airport, I reached Banda Aceh where I met Lieselotte and Guido from the Netherlands. I know Lieselotte from a training on development in Prague in September 2005. Many things I hear, read or see I relate to Burma. I am interested in learning about the special autonomy Aceh got after the conflict ended with the tsunami and about Indonesia’s transition to democracy. At the same time news from my Burmese friends in jail and others hiding in the jungle, the suffering of the cyclone victims and the result of the referendum make me feel … I don’t know how to describe it. I am curious what Indonesia will show me more. My visa expires on the 15th of June. Yesterday for example we drank beer from a can that was covered with a coca cola can. I am in an extreme Islamic place under the rule of the sharia law, the locals however are not so fanatic as Jakarta told them to be.

Monday, May 12, 2008

My friend arrested in Burma

Saturday evening one of my very good friends inside Burma was arrested by the SPDC (the brutal inhuman army). His dream to be free seems further than ever before. As one of the most active youth leaders in the region he was a hope for many, helping hundreds of young people with education. The latter is what the regime did not want him to do.
His friends don’t know what to do. We can only hope he stays alive.
I feel very sad