Meulaboh, rebuilding itself

"Would you like to go to Meulaboh or Nias?" This request came from the Singapore Red Cross on the same day when our holiday plans fell through. Together with two other volunteers, we became the sixth team departing for Meulaboh. We worked closely with the Palang Merah Indonesia (PMI), or Indonesian Red Cross medical team, visiting campsites and villages daily for a week.

This was to be a working holiday for us. If God gave everyone a stamp card to gather life experiences, this was one stamp I would not forget. Since the fateful day when the tsunami struck, we have been inundated with pictures of the havoc and devastation wrecked upon the lives of our immediate neighbours almost on a daily basis. Yet, when we saw the destruction firsthand, we could not remain unaffected.

We were able to establish good rapport with the PMI team from day 1, and soon fell into routine quickly. We were fortunate to be able to follow the PMI medical team every day to the campsites. We treated an average of 80 patients per day at each site.

Yet, it was not all work and no play, since the PMI team had graciously showed us the hidden treasures of Meulaboh on a lazy Sunday afternoon.

Quick Tips:

Dress conservatively as this is a Muslim country. Light-colored khakis or cargo pants are best for the weather, as it can be oppressively hot and humid.

Avoid wearing dark clothing as it may attract insects. Also, bring clothes that can be easily washed and dried quickly.

Insect repellent in any form is a must, preferably one with sunblock of SPF 60. That, and be sure to immunise yourself against malaria, typhoid, tetanus, and hepatitis A/B at least 1 week before heading there.

Leave your perfumes, etc., at home as again, insects are attracted to the scent.

Water from taps is meant only for washing and bathing. Drink only from properly sealed mineral bottles. This applies to cooking as well; use only mineral bottled water.

You can purchase almost all necessities in town, from slippers and shoes to clothing, food, and canned sodas. In short, pack light.

There is little entertainment and no nightlife, so bring your favorite music/books, etc.to keep boredom at bay.

Bring lots and lots of wet wipes. Don't leave home without 'em. Even though water is available, it is still a precious commodity there.

Best Way To Get Around:

The best way to get around is by hiring your own vehicle and driver. The roads, particularly on the outskirts of town, are in a bad state, so be prepared for a bumpy ride.

The town of Meulaboh is small and can be explored by foot. Alternatively, you can hire a trishaw to bring you around.

Most importantly, bring a pair of sturdy shoes or slip-ons. Visitors are expected to remove their shoes when entering a building or tent.

With 30 branches across Indonesia and Bali, Wong Solo is the place to be for a taste of Indonesia. The famed Ayam Bakar (grilled chicken Indonesian style) did not disappoint. This is their signature dish, so do not leave the resturant without tasting it. We also ordered sambal kang kong (stir-fried water spinach in chilli sauce), black pepper beef, fried tahuh (tofu), stir-fried brocolli, tempeh (local deep fried dhal) and brinjal; accompanied with plain rice and 3 different types of chilli sauce(from sweet and sour to fiery hot). The cost of this satisfying meal set each one of us back by only S$5 (US$3).

The restaurant itself is a double-story traditional Acehnese-styled building. Diners can choose between private function rooms (but be forewarned, the electricity tripped quite frequently, shutting down the air-conditioning, so the rooms could become stuffy) to traditional low-table dining (much like the Japanese on the tatami mats) that is partitioned discreetly for some privacy or at the open dining area, with its long wooden benches and high tables near the balcony.

Cats roamed openly under the tables throughout the restaurant, waiting to pick up the leftovers. Service was surprisingly quick, although the waitresses and waiters spoke only minimal English. Still, ordering the dishes was no trouble as the menu is in both Bahasah Indonesian and English. If all else fails, just point to the photo in the menu.

Tipping is not necessary, as service charges are incorporated into the bill. You need to request cutlery if you are not used to eating like the locals--with your hands. My only regret was that I could not take any pictures, as my camera was out of action. However, you can drool over the pictures at their website, (here.

Teuku Umar was the chief of Aceh in the early 19th century. He was regarded as a hero that fought along and against the Dutch for the independence of the Acehnese.

His grave is situated 40km from Meulaboh on a hill, off Desa Meugo, surrounded by primary forest. It is well-tended by the locals. It is said that the grave is guarded by a tiger that usually appears after sunset. Certainly, it is treated with the utmost reverence by the Indonesians. Foreigners are not allowed to go near the grave. In the recent earthquake and tsunami, the grave remained untouched.

Of special interest is the tree that stands across the grave. It is said that the water that sprung from the hole in the tree has healing properties. A small ladle is hung by the side of the tree trunk for locals to scoop the water. The PMI team took turns to wash and drink the water, and many even poured the water into bottles to bring back to camp.

We spent an idyllic time there, although we were hushed several times by the caretaker for being too noisy. The foliage offered shade from the oppressive heat. A short trail leading upwards and around part of the forest offered a panoramic view of the countryside before ending at the "carpark".

The drive there and back gave us different picture of Meulaboh. We passed by sleepy villages that had escaped the tsunami, padi fields where water buffloes wander about, goats, hens and other farm animals wander brazenly across the narrow road. It reminded me of the kampongs commonly seen across Southeast Asia of Malaysia and even remote areas of Singapore. Meulaboh has not lost all its charm.

The IFRC or Federation camp was to be our home for the duration of our attachment. Run by the Danish Red Cross's Max and chef Meera, this camp would have garnered a four-star rating. Five-star if all the tents came with air-conditioning and built-in toilets. It is situated next to a farm and a mere 15-minute walk into town.

We had prepared ourselves for the worst prior to our departure but were pleasantly surprised when we arrived at the well-equipped camp. From hot water showers to clean toilets (with a choice between squatting and seating toilet bowl) , a well-equipped kitchen that dishes out delicious meals and housekeeping by the locals to a laundry area with a washing machine and a lounge to hang out and chill, we felt as if we have landed into a resort instead of a camp. We were pampered.

Our tent was sturdy and comfortable, if not sparsely furnished with foldable canvas beds, mosquito nets, a fan, and an extra socket for charging our assorted electrical appliances (i.e., handphone).

By day three, the camp's goat herd of six seemed to have adopted our tent as their favorite hang-out. That and the neighbour's cows, separated only by a barbed-wire fence, seemed to have attracted some unwelcome visitors in the form of flies and cockroaches into our tent. Still, we have no complaints. It could be worse.

Meals are served strictly according to schedule. Breakfast is from 7 to 8am, lunch 12 to 1pm, and dinner from 7 to 8pm. The chef seemed particular about punctuality and took pride in serving the meals piping hot and fresh. Breakfast was an assortment of cereals, oat porridge, scrambled/poached eggs, sausages, and pancakes. Lunch usually consisted of an assortment of vegetables, rice and soup while dinner varied from spaghetti to pizza to stews. All meals came with the chef's home-baked wholemeal bread and fluffy potatoes. We had planned to use this opportunity to lose some weight, alas, our plans were thwarted time and again by a well-meaning chef who seemed to know what we wanted to eat. Outside of mealtimes, coffee and cookies were available round the clock.

The camp was well-lit even at night. Night time, however, was also when the creepy-crawlies turn up in full force, from the black-horned beetles to speckled toads, cockroaches that do not hesitate to bite (and boy, are they painful), and huge moths that flocked towards the light. It's a bug collector's dream world.

Fortunately for us, we were blessed with rain every evening for the duration of our stay. It was a welcome respite from the oppressive heat, although there were times when we thought our tent would be blown off by the strong gust of wind.

We soon established ourselves into routine. Our day began at 6am when our team leader woke us up (and probably the whole camp) with her very loud alarm. We took turns to conduct our ablutions and trooped down to the kitchen, coupons at hand for breakfast just before 7am (the chef was very particular about punctuality...that and we were hungry too).

After breakfast, we would depart for Temasek House (rented by Mercy Relief of Singapore)in town to get our medication supplies before zipping back to camp to wait for the PMI team to get ready. By 9am, we would be on our way to the camps together with the PMI Medical team.

Our activities would wind down by 1pm and we would return to camp in time for lunch. Then, we would return to Temasek House to store and prepare the medication for the next day before heading back to camp in the late afternoon. Back in camp, we took turns to shower and "parasite" as Ms E would say of our catnaps, ridiculous gossip and jokes which we exchanged while waiting for the dinner "gong".

Just before dinner, we would fumigate our tent by spraying baygon (insecticide)liberally to kill any unwelcomed insects that had decided to camp in our tent for the night. It was back to our tent after dinner (the alternative would be to passively inhale secondhand smoke from the volunteers who usually lit up after dinner in the dining area) and like clockwork, the rain would begin after we have snuggled into our sleeping bags to sing its lullaby.

Camping has never been so much fun out here.

Meulaboh is the capital of Aceh Barat Regency and the liveliest town on the west coast. This changed when the tsunami struck on Boxing Day, 2004. Since then, progress to rebuild itself has been slow, hampered by poor infrastructure that isolated them further.

Our first sight of Meulaboh from the plane was that of the altered coastline. Travelling into town, we passed by debris-strewed farms juxtaposed with fields of watermelons, UNICEF tents, and multicolored houses built from savaged planks. There were signs of destruction everywhere, from the uneven road to uprooted trees; the force of the tsunami was most prominently revealed in the remains of the prison - only the skeletal watch towers stands - what must it have been like for the prisoners trapped in their cells when the waves hit?

Ground zero, where the most casualties were, was a surreal place to be. Although reconstruction has began in many other places, ground zero remained almost unchanged. Clothes, broken pieces of furniture, bricks, and tiles were strewn everywhere. For many, only the foundation and ground tiles of the houses remained unscathed. Wooden signs bearing names of the owners were placed where gates once stood. Some of these signs bore pleas for help. Even the mosques did not escape, as pillars that once stood erect are now bent at awkward angles. Red flags stick out against the rubble, signifying a burial site.

A tall steel tower stood next to a school closest to the sea. I was later informed that many clung to the steel tower to stay afloat. It was difficult to imagine that the now calm sea could rise to such height. Ground zero remains a sobering reminder of the awe and power of Mother Nature.

At a beach near Suak Ribee, locals and relief workers gather to escape the heat in the late afternoons and early evenings. The local children pander for their pictures to be taken and took delight in the simplest of things. Here, too, was where we viewed one of the most spectacular sunsets. Life goes on.

Medan is the third-largest city in Indonesia and the capital of Sumatra. It boasts a population of about 2.5 millon people and is more well-known as the gateway to Lake Toba.

What can one do in Medan for 6 hours? Eat and shop, of course! We flew in from Meulaboh to Medan at about 10am and were informed by our local ground logistics representative that we may be able to fly back to Singapore on that evening instead of the following morning. The flight on Susi Air was not the most pleasant, as we hit turbulence. We felt like we were on board a small boat on choppy waters. Now I understood why we were advised to bring vomit bags. After a quick stop and rest at our designated guesthouse at the University of Medan, we were off for lunch at the famed Wong Solo.

After one of the most satisfying meals we have had (we had given up on our dieting by then), we drove off to do some serious shopping at Medan's newer shopping malls, Plaza Medan Fair and Sun Plaza.

Plaza Medan Fair

Carrefour hypermarket is the anchor tenant. This mall and hotel was completed in June 2004 and seemed more family-oriented. It is situated in the heart of the business district and reminded us of Suntec City back home. We spent about an hour and half, mostly shopping in Carrefour to replace some of our stuff that we left behind at camp.

Sun Plaza

Located at Jl.H.Zainul Arifin, Sun Plaza is the newest and touted as one of the largest malls in Medan. It was opened in 2004, with Sogo being the anchor tenant. Other tenants include Ace Hardware, Starbucks, Mango, gift shops, small bakeries, pirated VHS, DVDs, and computer software, etc. The shops seemed to target the mid- to high-end shoppers. With some time to spare and feeling groggy after the heavy lunch, we headed for the hair salon on the 4th level for a good ole hair wash and trim. Half an hour later, we emerged S$5 poorer but refreshed to carry on shopping.

Jl Mojopahit

No sane visitor leaves Medan without buying the popular Kueh Lapis (multi-layered cake) and cake Ambon (honey-combed cake). We headed for Jl Mojopahit street, where bakeries jostled side by side, selling their cakes to visitors and locals. Our driver recommended Zulaikha at No. 62, Jl Mojopahit. This was where all Singaporeans come and buy their kueh lapis, he announced proudly. Unfortunately, we were not able to sample the cake there.

Business was thriving, and the cakes were selling as fast as they were baked, so our driver must be right. The cakes come in assorted flavours, from the traditional to prune, chocolate, pandan, and even durian. They are sold in halves or whole (at least 3kg each). We purchase assorted flavours in halves, and the cakes were packed in boxes convenient for travel (I had checked in the cakes at the airport, and they arrived intact). It cost us only S$4.60 for half the cake and S$7 for a whole cake (we did not even have to bargain, as they automatically discounted for us). The cakes were delicious and can be stored in the fridge for up to 2 weeks.

A yummy end to our little adventure.

Since the tsunami, the Singapore Red Cross has been sending medical teams of three or four volunteers on a 10-day rotation to Meulaboh and, most recently, Nias. While there, teams are expected to work closely with the PMI Medical team (Indonesian Red Cross).

Our team consisted of four volunteer nurses. The flight from Singapore to Medan on-board Silk Air took only one hour. From Medan, we departed the following morning via Susi Air, a small 12-seater chartered plane by the IRFC to Meulaboh. The uneventful flight was only 45 minutes.

At the small airport that consisted of a landing strip, two small buildings and some tents, we were met by our local representative, Mr Don Seow, a lean, grey-haired man with a dry sense of humour and a deadpan face to match. We soon dubbed him "Pappa Don" after the movie "Godfather". For the next week or so, he was our "protector" while in Meulaboh.

We were whisked into a van that was to be our main mode of transport for the next six days driven by a young local chap called Ruzal. He was an obvious fan of "Micheal Learns to Rock" and wasted no time in brainwashing us with the band's music; the "torture" continued till we departed on the 7th day. By then, everyone of us had the lyrics "25 minutes too late" swirling in our brains on repeat mode.

We were orientated to the camp and the town on our first day. We lost no time in getting aquainted with the drugs and medical supplies that we were suppose to dispense/use for the next week or so. We made short work of that and soon realised that we had too much time on our hands. We were so used to the fast paced city life that we found difficulty adjusting to the much slower pace that is Meulaboh. (Note keyword- slower pace).

That afternoon, Pappa Don had arranged for us to visit Ground Zero. Ruzal seemed to know where to stop for the most opportuned photogenic moment. It seemed like a routine for him, but it was a reality check for us: this was no holiday tour.

"We are there to help, to do what they want us to do and not what you perceive they need and want".

In short, when in Rome, do as Romans do.

We were introduced to the PMI team the following morning. It was awkward initially, as both sides sized each other up. However, as the morning wore down and heat began to build, we began to thaw and work more smoothly together on our first camp at Sumatiga. Communication was difficult as the PMI team spoke little English while we spoke even less Bahasa Indohnesian. Yet our enthusiasm more than made up for this lapse--that and a huge smile. Everyone was friendly, and our efforts to communicate drew lots of laughter among teammates and the villagers. It was a slow day; we saw only about 30 patients. The first day set the tone for the rest of the week. We separated into two groups--two assisted the doctors while the remaining two assisted in drug-dispensing or milk-powder distribution. We readily switched roles whenever needed.

For the next few days, we visited the camps of Bubon, Paya Panaga, Ujong Tanjong, Suak Gading, and Suak Ribee. Patient load varies from 50 to more than 100 patients, depending on the size of the camps. Camp sites were well-organised, with a village head overseeing the day-to-day operations. Upon arrival to each camp, the PMI doctors would greet the headman, explain the purpose of our visit, and identify an area to set up the mobile clinic. Most times, the mobile clinic would be set up in an elevated multi-purpose "hall". The village head would make an announcement while we set up our equipment/supplies on the floor. At some camps, tables, and chairs would be provided for the doctors.

Our "pharmacy" was usually set up on floor mats and surrounded by locals who looked on with curiousity. Occasionally, a patient would request for an empty container, "to put coffee powder", said the Ibu. By day 2, we had worked out a system with the PMI nurse Bas. We would prepare the medication and hand it over to him who would counter-check and dispense it to the patient. Often times, we had to replace one drug for another whenever supplies ran out.

Patients walk up directly to any available doctor, and documentation was basic and privacy practically nil. The drug prescription was written on pieces of scrap paper, and drugs dispensed were sufficient for 3 days only. There were no subsequent follow-up visits.

Incision and drainage of pus-filled infected wounds were done with instruments medically sterilised. For some unknown reason, bruises and hematomas sustained during the tsunami were not resolved as normal but had became infected and formed abcesses for some patients. One woman who had sustained a gash since the tsunami had since become infected and pus-filled. Yet she carried on her daily activities and sought consult only when she found difficulty in sitting down. Her stoic resilience typifies the people of Meulaboh.

The most common complaints were of insomnia, headaches, rashes from fungal infection, and giddiness. Many were too afraid to sleep at night, and some had recurring nightmares, as a result, they develop headaches and giddiness during the day. Drugs prescribed were usually antihistamines, vitamins, painkillers (panadol), and lots of TLC (tender loving care).

The people of Meulaboh were friendly, warm-hearted, and simple. We were touched by their stoic resilience in the face of adversity and personal loss.

Life goes on.

"We're going to a village to perform circumcision on Sunday," said the lovely soft-spoken Dr Pocut (who, by the way, was Miss Indonesia in 1997). Even though Sunday was supposed to be a rest day, we were chafing to go. Our chef coincidentally cooked us a breakfast of cocktail sausages ("willies anyone?"), scrambled eggs, and pancakes. We were joined by the French medical team as well.

The coastal village of Aranwang was a 3-hour journey from our camp through some bumpy roads and rickety bridges, with beautiful views of the countryside and sleepy villages. We had to travel inland in a roundabout route due to poor road conditions to reach that village. Alas, 1.5 hours into the journey, we came to a halt, as the road had become congested - a traffic jam in the middle of nowhere? We soon found out that the PMI ambulance had become stuck in a deep rut just before a washed-out bridge. The storm from previous night had worsened road conditions and made that particular bridge impassable. With the help of several locals and the French team, the ambulance was finally pulled out of the rut.

The alternative route to the village was deemed unsafe due to the presence of the Acehnese rebels. With much reluctance and frustration, the entire team was forced to turn back.

We returned to the camp disheartened. "What are we going to do for the rest of the day?" we asked ourselves. We were already feeling bored from the enforced inactivity, and the oppressive heat made us feel even worse. Had we known we would have so much time on our hands, we would have brought our facial masks and pedicure and manicure sets and pampered ourselves in the tent with an impromptu spa treatment. Better yet, we would have gone around offering the locals free manicures/ pedicures and facials. We would have been known as the team that beautified the people of Meulaboh. Grandioso talk, yes? Well, we were that bored. Strangely, I did not miss television and/or other modern entertainment that was lacking in the camp (although I was curious about who was voted/booted out from the American Idol/Amazing race/The Apprentice, etc).

Lunchtime came, and Pappa Don strode purposefully towards our table. "Due to popular demand, you are wanted by the PMI team this afternoon," said Pappa Don. We whooped with joy. The PMI team had decided to pay their respects to the local war hero Teuka Umar and had invited us along. Suddenly, we were energised again, ready for anything. The day ended with a visit to the local beach just 15 minutes drive from the camp.

By the end of our stay, we had "bonded" so well with the PMI team that we were calling each other by nicknames and reluctant to leave. We had nicknamed Dr Hepi, a.k.a Dr Wo Ai Ni ("I love you" in Mandarin), an apt nickname since he was the Casanova in the group (who also possibly taught everyone in the PMI camp how to say "I love you" in Mandarin) and Gunawan, aka Milkman, because he was in charge of distributing milk and talcum powder to the children in the camp. I was Vit C girl because I passing out vitamin Cs to everyone, while our team leader became Ah Girl because she was the baby in our team. I wished I had brought some souvenirs with me to give to them.

The feedback we received from them at the end of our stay: we had worked hard with them but we had also played hard together.