My time in Aceh...

My water bottle fell off the table and the pictures on the wall bounced around.

Immediately I grabbed my purse, unlocked the door, went outside, only to find most other people in the area had also done the same. Yes on my last day, I experienced my first earthquake tremor in Indonesia, which lasted several seconds. It was relatively minor but since the tsunami, everyone is mindful of taking these simple precautions.

My time in Aceh has too quickly come to a close. As I waited at the airport for my flight to Medan, a young man named Husaini struck up a conversation with me and asked me what I thought of my trip.

Where to begin? Each day I have been struck by the kindness, resilience and tenacity of the survivors and the progress made since last year. They have survived not only the tsunami but also what appears to be the end of an internal conflict, which lasted for several decades and resulted in tens of thousands of deaths. In December, Aceh held its first elections in many years and swore in their new governor this week. That they’ve been able to end a conflict so quickly gives me hope for around similar situations around the world.

Husaini told me that during the conflict he had been held at gunpoint and the streets of that are now home bustling markets and restaurants in Banda Aceh were very unsafe. He lost his home and many family members during the tsunami. I could feel a lump starting to form in my throat.

Despite the incredible loss, he called the tsunami a “painful but valuable gift from Allah.” The disaster and the outpouring of support from around the world to help them rebuild, also helped nearly every one realize the importance of peace and security - enough had already been lost.

Husaini and his remaining family members now have a new home. His next challenge is now trying to convince his very reluctant parents to let him accept a scholarship to a university far away in Sydney, Australia. As they announced the call for boarding, our conversation unfortunately had to come to an end.

While progress is largely measured in terms of number of homes, schools, health clinics, water taps, and latrines – we can’t forget one of the most important markers.

Last year survivors in Aceh understandably focused on loss, and while they cannot ever forget that tragedy, there is an undeniable change this year in their hopefulness and optimism for what lies ahead.

A long and winding road

Our drive to Lamno in Aceh Jaya begins early in the morning.

It is close to a three hour drive, even though it is not even 80 kilometres away along a winding road that hugs the beautiful coastline and empty beaches of Aceh. Last year the drive took more than four hours, but the road has been significantly improved since then. We won’t be able to spend very long in Lamno as we have to be back in Banda Aceh by a 6pm curfew in order to be back by dark.

This is a strictly enforced rule as a Red Cross delegate from Hong Kong last year suffered non life-threatening injuries after being shot at in her vehicle on this road. They never found out who fired the gun.

The communities in Aceh Jaya are among some of the hardest hit areas from the tsunami, as they were much closer to the earthquake’s epicenter. It is also home to some of the poorest areas in Aceh province. In Calang, another community where the Canadian Red Cross is helping to rebuild further down the western coast, 80 per cent of the population died during the tsunami in a city of 25,000 people. The only structures left were the partial remains of just seven buildings.

Last year I flew over this area by UN helicopter as the roads were too bad to drive on in many areas. You could see from the air how the tsunami’s water chewed away large chunks of the coastline. Parts of the former road now head directly into the sea and pop out a few hundred metres later. At a military checkpoint, part of the old road that now leads to nowhere has now creatively been turned into a makeshift volleyball court.

The foundations of several homes still peer out through the water, which has never receded back. The families who lived in these areas, and there are many, need to be relocated. There are multiple steps involved in relocation, such as community consensus, establishing land tenure ownership, and environmental assessments. There have even been Sumatran tiger sightings in areas where we are rebuilding – another consideration to take into account. Due to all of these factors, Canadian Red Cross has built over 1,800 transitional homes for survivors.

These steel framed wooden structures, which were used as permanent homes in Vietnam, give families a more comfortable place to live while allowing for their communities to be properly planning and built. They can even move the homes to use as additions on their new houses. It’s amazing to see how communities have expressed themselves and personalized them with gardens, window shutters, and colourful paint.

We stop along the road to speak with some staff that is doing water and sanitation work. Thousands of families have benefited from these activities. I found out that we’re about to visit a village that used to have to travel three to four kilometres for a clean water source, and now they have one right in their village.

When we get there, several families are at the taps bathing their children and washing their clothes. But I soon get distracted by several pairs of eyes peeking around a transitional home. A group of kids were curiously and cautiously watching us. Perhaps it was because we were with the Red Cross or quite possibly my shockingly pale skin which has been covered up with winter gear in Ottawa was now blinding them.

One of the best things about kids is how universal it is to amuse them. After a few minutes they were chasing after me and then breaking out into fits of laughter as they ran away when I surprised them and turned around to start chasing them. As my glistening dewiness in the hot afternoon sun quickly turned into buckets of sweat pouring off me, it was with some relief and sadness that I was told we had to leave for the next village.

We have been invited to a community meeting to discuss the progress of our activities. Village members greet us warmly and the Canadian Red Cross program manager for the area, Gizachew, speaks to the group about the importance of involving women. As he speaks, I see the women present smile shyly amongst themselves, happy that their contribution is being publicly acknowledged and incorporated into the rebuilding of their community.

Before we leave for Banda Aceh, we meet up with the incredible field staff based in Lamno. Many of them are from the area and have been affected themselves by the tsunami. Some of them even remember me from last year – when unfortunately I was bedridden for several days with some “gastro-intestinal discomfort”, and tease me that I don’t look as nearly pale this time but that I’m still pretty ghostly. It’s nice to know that my liquid paper-coloured legs can transcend language and culture to be a source of laughter on both sides of the Pacific Ocean.

Home Sweet Home

Driving into Kadju and its sub-villages from Banda Aceh takes about 20-40 minutes depending on traffic. The tsunami wiped out the structures in this densely populated area clean in almost a matter of minutes, like an eraser on a blackboard. Thousands of lives were lost here.

But today the sight across the landscape is of thousands of new homes or the construction of them. My eyes are inevitably drawn to the hundreds of distinctive bright yellow homes that we frequently pass on both sides of the road. These are the Canadian Red Cross homes, made possible by donations and funds from the Canadian International Development Agency.

We turn off the main road and drive into one of the villages where we are working. When I get out of the van, it is clear that more than just houses have been built here – it is a thriving new community.

Janette Ryan, the Canadian Red Cross field manager for this area, points out the drains along the road, the wells and the electricity lines hooked up to each home. While survivors could choose any colour for their home, most have chosen yellow because of the optimism it reflects and solidarity as a community.

I’m eager to see inside the homes, but do not want to impose. But my opportunity comes at the next village we visit. As I walked down the road, a woman excitedly waves at me and motions me towards her house. She proudly shows off the hand stenciling on the walls throughout her new home. I later find out that she is taking care of two children in her family who were orphaned by the tsunami. When asked if she likes her house, she beams a huge smile and nods her head.

It may sound a bit corny but I wish that everyone who donated to the tsunami could have shared that moment in time. While it is difficult to fathom what her family had lost and survived, it is inspiring to see how this woman continues to rebuild her life with such optimism.

Arriving in Banda Aceh

Two years ago the tsunami devastated this part of the world. It’s been 13 months since my last mission in Indonesia. Last year, the pain and impact of the disaster on survivors and their communities were still undeniably raw and apparent. Conversations with someone from Aceh would often heartbreakingly include them mentioning casually how they almost drowned and lost many, if not all, of their family members. What would it be like this time?

As I drove away from the Banda Aceh airport, one of the first things I noticed was the overwhelming number of cars and trucks. Last time, scooters swarmed the road amidst the NGO vehicles. Entire Acehnese families holding onto two or three children could be seen zipping around on the bikes through traffic and now many of them were sitting comfortably in cars and mini-vans. It would certainly be a good time to own a car dealership here. But I found out that scooters still have a very distinct social advantage for young people.

Although the Sharia police are enforcing Islamic law less strictly than last year, the scooters provide one of the only acceptable ways unmarried couples can touch in public. After the driver points this out to me, I can’t but help to smile every time a scooter speeds past us with a young woman on the back firmly holding onto the driver. And my smile returns when many of the couples circle past us again. It’s a practicality of dating in Banda Aceh.

As the sun sets on the drive into the city from the airport, I can see construction everywhere. Last year construction certainly dotted the area, but now it was in every direction. Something interrupts my train of thought and I realize that the Acehnese radio station has been playing a Celine Dion marathon for the entire drive. Is her appeal really that universal? Then we drive past a large sign written in Acehnese advertising a rock competition. My jaw drops. Is this really the area that was under martial law before the tsunami in December 2004?

I turn on the television to watch the news before calling it a night. The top story is about the flooding in Jakarta. Hundreds of thousands of people are homeless and millions of people have been affected. Cholera and dysentery are widespread concerns. Not even Indonesia’s capital city is immune to natural disasters. While tsunami recovery is well underway, the country still experiences 30-40 disasters every year that we would consider major in Canada.

It is a somber reminder to leave my shoes, purse, and keys by the door before going to sleep in case I have to leave suddenly in the night. Aceh stills experiences frequent earthquakes and tremors and they could happen at any time.

I turn off the light and crawl under the mosquito net – a precaution against dengue fever and malaria carrying mosquitoes, and quickly fall asleep.