INDONESIA: It's a daily struggle to deliver the news

Photographer of Serambi Indonesia, Bedu Saini, recalls his tsunami nightmare and the struggles of the newspaper post-tsunami

The Jakarta Post
Friday, January 28, 2005

By Mafoot Simon

Banda Aceh -- The moment he received word that a supermarket had collapsed in town, newspaper photographer Bedu Saini did as he had done so many times before - he grabbed his Nikon camera, jumped on his motorcycle and sped to the scene.
 
Uppermost on his mind was bringing back pictures for Serambi Indonesia, the only daily in Banda Aceh, the provincial capital.

The news tip-off came on a Sunday morning, his day off. He left his wife, Khalidah, 35, at home with their three children - daughters Nisrina Alifa, six, and Qatrum Nada, four, and a four-month-old baby boy they had not named yet.

Within hours, everything would change, because that was Dec 26, the day a powerful underwater earthquake off Sumatra was followed by the fearsome tsunami which brought untold death and destruction to Aceh's shores.

Mr Bedu, 38, survived, as did his wife and their middle child. But their eldest girl and baby boy went missing.

Many of his colleagues were also among the thousands who did not make it.

Out of 250 employees, 51 are still missing, said chief editor Syamsul Kahar, a veteran with the influential Indonesian daily Kompas, who was instrumental in setting up Serambi in 1989.

The missing include the broadsheet paper's managing editor and 10 journalists, one fifth of the editorial staff.

Its two-storey building was damaged severely, its two printing presses tossed out and wrecked. Worse off was the housing compound next door, where many employees lived. It was levelled, explaining why so many workers and family members are now feared dead.

There was no newspaper for four days before Mr Syamsul decided Serambi had to appear again.

'There was a lack of information for the community. So I decided to gather all my colleagues to begin the work,' he said.

He set up a temporary office in nearby Lambaro, an area not affected by the tsunami, and began the tough task of tracking down his missing people by telephone, SMS and word of mouth.

He found 10 journalists prepared to resume working, despite the enormous tragedy at their doorstep and personal grief.

Among them was photographer Bedu, shattered by the loss of his two children. 'At least I still have a job,' he said.

Mr Syamsul, his deputy, the chief reporter and his assistant all survived. Seven journalists were brought in to help, from other parts of the newspaper group.

They started getting their stories and pictures, working with minimum equipment. Sometimes, people would simply break down in tears.

On New Year's Day, Serambi was back in circulation, and all 10,000 copies printed were given out free.

'Cholera is threatening our refugees,' said the banner headline. That edition had news about the shelters for survivors, useful information for victims, and an urgent appeal to the newspaper's staff to come back.

The print run has since climbed to 22,000 copies. It used to be between 34,000 and 40,000 a day.

These days, it is a 12-page paper, four pages fewer than before, and sells at 1,500 rupiah (27 Singapore cents), three-quarters its cover price.

The newspaper is now running with 28 journalists, and is looking for a new building so that it can get back to normal. 'We hope to be able to do it in six months' time,' said Mr Syamsul.

The effort made by Serambi's staff to put out their newspaper again despite staggering odds was praised by the Paris-based World Association of Newspapers.

It put out an e-mail appeal to members worldwide for donations to help the newspaper's employees 'who are continuing to do their job of informing the people in this devastated area, under the most appalling conditions'.

Serambi is a subsidiary of the Kompas Gramedia Group which produces many of Indonesia's provincial newspapers, including the Batam Post, Srivijaya Post and Bangka Post.

The tsunami disaster was not the first occasion when it was forced to stop printing.

It did not appear for 12 days in 2001, after 10 of its delivery vehicles were set ablaze.

The separatist movement, the Free Aceh Movement (GAM), was the prime suspect at the time, said the paper's Medan bureau chief, Mr Parlaungan Lubis, 44, who has been on the staff since its launch.

'They were angry because they thought our reporting was biased, in favour of the TNI,' he said, referring to the Indonesian armed forces.

It was not easy to run a newspaper in conflict situations, he said, pointing out that the military authorities were also displeased when the paper quoted GAM commanders in its reports.

'We get messages passed to us that the TNI are not happy because they consider us pro-GAM,' he said. 'That's not true. We are an independent press.'

Meanwhile, back in Serambi's temporary office, the survivors are pressing on.

Mr Syamsul said: 'Things are not back to normal yet. Many employees are still experiencing post-tsunami trauma.'

Despite returning to work, photographer Bedu, for one, relives his personal nightmare when he recalls what happened that Sunday morning.

He had just arrived at the wrecked Pante Perak supermarket and begun snapping away when he heard people yelling: 'Air naik! Air naik!' ('The water is rising! The water is rising!')

'It was chaotic. Everyone was running away,' he said. He followed the crowd and started seeing people being swept away, especially women and children.

Now fearful for his family, he headed on foot for his home a kilometre away only to find the water wreaking havoc. He spotted his wife clinging to the fence of their neighbour's house, their two older girls holding on tightly to her. The baby had already disappeared.

Then Madam Khalidah lost her balance, and the eldest daughter was swept away as both parents watched helplessly.

Some people on the second floor of the house pulled Madam Khalidah and her remaining child to safety.

The next day, Mr Bedu took his wife and daughter to Sigli, a town about 110km from Banda Aceh, and left them with relatives.

Since returning to work, he has found it hard to photograph children at the camps that dot Banda Aceh.

'They always remind me of my own children,' he said.

But he knows others have fared worse. 'At least I still have a family.'

Date Posted: 1/28/2005