Entranced and “Going to Hell”

Kuda Lumping isn’t something you see everyday and it is not a very Acehnese ceremony. It is a distinctly Javanese festival and I have never seen one before but from the sound of it, it has to do with horses (‘Kuda’ means horse). Perhaps it was my lucky day because today in Damai, a small village along the coastline of Western Aceh, I was invited to attend.

Arriving in the village I could see the gamelan (orchestra) gathered under the shade preparing for their march along the road into the center of the village. Out ran a dozen young men with fake, flat horses. They were all wearing dark shades, pink shirts and traditional hats. The gamelan rushed to their feet and the two-step march began.

Then out came the Barong (a mask attached to a large cap with two people underneath) doing the same two-step. Arriving in the village center there was a dramatic end with the Barong mask biting violently with a sharp clapping sound. We sat down and the speeches began.

The speeches were incredibly formal and not many people listened. Each speech was also interrupted by a prayer and this was the first time I got to see the Muezzin perform his piece. It was actually rather calming and made me think about how this tune has entranced followers into one of the largest religions in the world. At that point the woman next to me turned to me and asked, “are you a Muslim?” After politely saying no she went on. “You should come move into the community, become a good Muslim and learn how to pray like we do. I mean you don’t want to burn in hell, do you?”

I had never heard of Muslims talk about hell before and I had never been approached that way by a Muslim before; nor have I ever heard of anyone being spoken to in that manner by a Muslim.

I chose not to think about it anymore. Finally there was more dancing. The youth did some Acehnese routines to some electronic music and then the Kuda Lumping started up again. This time, I could see people’s attention being drawn to a person who appeared to be violently shaking. He was Mabuk (lit. dizzy/drunk—but with the connotation that he had fallen into a trance and “been infiltrated by Setan—demons”). He had fallen into a trance. He seemed to have lost his senses and had taken on the form of an animal, licking the air and staying very close to the ground. He then got on the ground and began rolling around in the mud. It seemed like a very set ceremony as the people knew exactly what to provide him and they were dousing him with water as well. Finally the “entranced” demanded makeup and lipstick. He started acting like a girl and doing other funny things. Some of the non-believers I was with, said that this was just an opportunity for people to express themselves—because within Sharia’a law they are never allowed to do such things. I chose not to take sides.

Then another of the Kuda Lumping dancers fell into trance. He was shaking violently and grabbed a whip and started running around. Apparently if you were wearing red you weren’t supposed to get close. Even with my white T-shirt, I decided to stay in the back anyway.

Getting to and from Kuala Lumpur

I went to Kuala Lumpur last weekend. Ah what a nice break to be out of Aceh, and a lucky hiatus from the underwater coastlines of Meulaboh. Getting to KL however, proved to be quite an ordeal; getting home wasn’t easy either. Fitting that Kuala Lumpur actually means “Muddy Port.”

The waves were huge the day before I left. I mean, they get massive during these westerly seasons and the rip tides are vicious. These particular tides were especially strong and overnight the waves had reached over the beaches and flooded past my house. Water was up to the floor level and people were wading up to their hips in seawater on the streets and around their houses. Worried about what to expect when I came back, I was also really glad to be getting away.

Getting out of Meulaboh is not easy. My bus ride (more like a van) was leaving at six that evening and I was really chasing time to make it to my flight from Medan the next morning. Yes, the ride generally takes 14 hours!! The drivers drive like they are in a NASCAR race and I had to look away at certain points the way these guys were taking the curves. He was blasting Dangdut pop and random classics like “Summer of ’69.” The man in the front seat seemed to be vomiting the entire time. After about 10 hours of cramped knees and discomfort I finally felt at ease that I would make it to my flight in time. And I finally was able to doze off.

Apparently everyone had fallen asleep because next thing I knew, we had smashed into a tree. Yes the driver fell asleep too. We were lucky that he was going up hill as he veered deep into the forest. When I opened my door the road was nowhere to be seen and it was all very dreamlike. I peeled myself off the lap of the man in front of me I had been launched into, and started to panic that there was no way I was making it to my flight in time. Oh, at least we were all safe. “It was the summer of ‘69…”

Climbing through the steam of the jungle we made it up the hill to the road. Could we push it out? We tried but it sank into an even more difficult position. Finally a truck drove by and tied a rope (that looked like it would snap immediately) to the kijang van. Surprisingly he yanked us right out and before I knew it we were back taking those curves more violently than before. Maybe it felt like it because the van was a mess and all the shocks were gone. Thump, another bump, and no more sleep but I actually made it in time for the flight.

Kuala Lumpur was actually a rather lame town. Not much to do except for see the incredible twin towers. It doesn’t seem to have a real personality (seems like it’s trying to chase Singapore’s reputation) but the food was amazing, diverse, and cheap. The people I was hanging out with knew the town and were great company as well. That’s really all I needed and on top of that I got the best massage of my life. All the knots from that 14 hour bus ride were not easy to straighten out.

The weekend ended rather quickly and I was excited to get back to Meulaboh. Was my house still flooded? As I got to the airport to get on my plane however, I was told that my ticket was for the wrong date. No way was I going to accept more transportation issues and after having a heated exchange with the head of the airline in the Medan airport, I was on my way again. The plane was full of UN and other international NGO employees. Back to Aceh again…

Imagining the Tsunami

I went down to the beach the other day. It’s about a stone’s throw away from the place I am staying. The sea was really angry. Cement blocks designed to stop the creeping, eroding coastline, stand blockading this portion of the beach. The water was crazy. These thick, tall, and angry waves were crashing against each other, and then smashinto into the rocks.

A friend of mine told me the other day that she used to love the beach. Then one morning, over two years ago, she saw a big black wall in the distance.

“I thought it was the end of the world. People were panicked and running in every direction. It looked like a giant snake standing tall and coming towards us, like a cobra its head spread and ready to strike. It slithered, gained volume and strength emerging like an oncoming dark cloud. The next thing I knew it was crashing through us. We were suddenly flooded. I was dragged by the water. My three children, all in primary school were washed away. I never saw them again. I got stuck in a satellite dish, barely hanging on. After several minutes I heard someone calling my name. Up in a tree behind me, I saw my husband. People were dragged several kilometers. It was hours before the water subsided. The coastline was completely changed. The entire infrastructure was gone. Our town was missing and so were much of our families. All that was left was a mess of debris covered thick in black mud. I don’t go to the beach anymore. I don’t like the ocean either. I can’t even look at it.”

As another wave crashed down onto the rocks I thought this might be a fraction of what those three crazy, successive waves during the tsunami looked like. The mass and power of the big waves I was looking at were hypnotizing. I can’t imagine the overwhelming sense of Armageddon the waves two years ago must have felt like. Ten minutes after the quake, water was initially sucked out. Some ran out to collect fish flapping around in the suddenly dry land. Then the waves came. The third, and most powerful, was said to reach up to 100 feet massive in some areas.

The sun was going down; I could hear several mosques sounding off for maghrib, the evening prayer. Both sides of the path back to the house I could see construction all along the beach. The rebuilt house I’m staying at, stands next to half a house and across the street all that remains is a staircase.

I thought back to my drive along the coastline from the northern tip of Sumatra, the capital Banda Aceh, down to my current home, Meulaboh. The drive covers over some 200 kilometers of stunning beauty, but also the fresh history of an unimaginable disaster.

As our vehicle traded between climbing up and down cliffsides and flanking beach straightaways, I witnessed a landscape I had never seen before—the contrast of natural beauty with the imprint of natural disaster. Through the forests, I saw monkeys and truly unique wildlife, and along the beaches were picture perfect cliffs, islands nestled among coconut trees. Some of these rural communities have rebuilt, evidenced by the regeneration of agriculture and a semblance of the previous fishing industry.

At one point the road split. One section was being rebuilt but the other half strangely led directly into the ocean. I asked the person next to me about the road. She pointed out to the ocean. “That's the old road. See that structure out there. That used to be a bridge. The village used to be there." She pointed out to the ocean. Sure enough I saw the ruins of what possibly was a town. There were still some coconut trees growing far out at sea. I tried to reconstruct what this might have looked like. The tsunami completely changed the landscape. In some areas there are bays further inland from deposited sea water that became land-locked after the tsunami. Some have gone so far as to say weather patterns have also changed.


My neighbor in the van went on… “The earthquake was unbelievable. You fell on your knees; you held on to the ground.” Before the waves even struck, one of the highest recorded earthquakes in history (measuring 9.1 on the Richter Scale--one of the highest ever recorded) thrashed these areas. “I saw cars being flipped upside down, rolling, somersaulting down the street. After several minutes of violent shaking, I thought I was safe. But I could sense the panic. Then the waves came and dragged me several kilometers. I lost about half of my family. I was saved by a floating log that I grabbed on to. I still have scars from tumbling through the mayhem; see...” I saw the scrapes. “You can’t imagine the panic. I never believed how I made it. I still ask myself why. I lost my wife and child. But, I just got remarried and my wife is six months pregnant.”



Through so much loss there is incredible trauma and the psychological and physical damages will take a long time to heal. Almost everyone has a powerful story connected to the tsunami. They speak about the experience with such frankness. I still have a hard time reacting to such tragedies. The tsunami is embedded as a part of everyone's lives here. It is a piece of them.