Research: Earthquake Disaster

Indonesia, like other Southeast Asian countries, is often pictured as a place where people always smile. After the quake, however, the smile on many faces here has been replaced by despondent expressions. Having worked as a clinical psychologist in the past, including volunteering for the psychosocial intervention unit of the Red Cross, I am worried about the emotional damage the disaster has caused. The experience of the earthquake itself and the fright at the rumors of an advancing tsunami afterwards has left a colossal psychological toll. Now that the most acute needs--food, water, and shelter--have been dealt with, more and more stories of psychological distress and mental disease start surfacing. Most survivors are deeply traumatized, and many suffer from acute stress, insomnia, severe depression, and anxiety. Even people living in houses that were untouched by the temblor are refusing to sleep inside at night, despite reassurances their houses are structurally sound. They are remaining in tents, at makeshift shelters, or camping out on their terraces. In addition, some of the volunteers involved in the relief mission have been psychologically affected and many show signs of burnout.

Several relief organizations included psychiatrists and psychologists among their teams deployed to the devastated areas to offer trauma recovery and psychosocial support, and to help quake survivors recognize early the symptoms of mental illness among themselves or their family members. Because there are only a limited number of mental health professionals in Indonesia, local volunteers are receiving crash courses in counseling. Many villagers have turned to spirituality for support as they strive to recover from the disaster.

As many as 50 Muslim preachers from Muhammadiyah, the country's second biggest Muslim organization, have been sent to quake-hit areas to help ease the victims' psychological burdens. They provide people with both religious preaching and psychological counseling. There have also been various mass prayers, organized by Muslims as well as Christians or followers of kejawen (Javanese mysticism). During those events, some religious leaders asked repentance for what people had done in the past that might have contributed to the disaster.

The earthquake did not end when the ground stopped shaking. Survivors will continue to feel its emotional impact for weeks to come. However, the morale is slowly growing again. Here and there, one can spot banners bearing confidence-boosting slogans across the areas hit hardest. Most people have resumed their daily activities. This is important, because the danger of becoming aid-dependent is always imminent after a disaster. Besides, the time has come to start harvesting the rice (and there are no non-governmental organizations to take care of that). In addition, there is the soccer world cup in Germany that offers the distressed minds a welcome distraction. I hope that it will not take too long before the smile returns on all faces here.

The Power of (Not) ‘Being There’
July 2, 2006

Being here: What's left of our supermarket

One of the assets of socio-cultural anthropologists is their in-depth knowledge of a particular place, culture, and people. The longer an ethnographer stays somewhere, the more prudent he or she becomes when making general statements. After all, the reality of life ‘in the field’ is as multifaceted as life back home (if not more). For a person who spends months trying to grasp the cultural complexity of another country, it is highly frustrating to watch others simplifying and even misrepresenting it. It is all the more painful when this happens by people who are not even at the place they are talking about. Yet, this is exactly what happened after the Jogja earthquake. In the emotion of the first hour, foreign correspondents reported from Indonesia’s capital about the gravity of the situation. The ones who arrived on the scene did not get a clear picture of the scale of the disaster and failed to pass the local accounts through a cultural filter. As a result, the first media accounts were widely exaggerated and inaccurate.

As far as tourism to Jogja is concerned, these first reports had far reaching consequences. Foreign embassies, concerned about the safety of their citizens residing in the region or potential visitors, relied on the media to issue travel warnings. Given the grotesque stories (e.g. CNN’s “Indonesia earthquake” series), the advisories were extremely negative and extended to regions far beyond the disaster zone. Many foreign tourists and travel agencies immediately cancelled their trips to Jogja or other parts of Indonesia. People working in the local tourism industry slowly start realizing that, now that they need extra money to rebuild their houses, they will probably have only a minimal income during this year’s high season.

One month after the disaster, the reporters have long returned to their home bases and the quake has almost completely disappeared from the international news radar. While there is plenty of reconstruction work in the countryside, life in the city has returned to normal. Unfortunately, the travel warnings are still there and people who do not have access to local information sources are convinced it is impossible to visit the region. One of the reasons I decided to write this blog is to offer a more accurate story, one told by someone who is still ‘there’. As I have written before, this is truly a beautiful place, one worth discovering. The earthquake might have caused havoc, the resiliency of the people is strong and everybody is eager to receive guests again, to share the splendor of Java’s natural and cultural heritage.

Flexible Fieldwork: Research Before, During, and After the Quake
July 8, 2006


Observing a tourism planning meeting

Not too many people are familiar with the kinds of data and research methodologies upon which anthropological writings are based. Socio-cultural anthropologists commonly spend an extended period (ranging from a couple of months to multiple years) researching a particular group, organization, or setting, in all its complexity and situating it in its wider context. Scholars use these elaborate ethnographic studies to help discover and understand more universal socio-cultural characteristics. This holistic approach produces valuable insights that are hard to obtain through other, less time-consuming, research methods.

My idea to do research on tourism in Jogja did not come out of the blue. I had traveled around the region as a tourist in 2000 and my preliminary research in 2003 had given me a relatively clear idea of what I was to study here. I wanted to understand how Indonesian guides creatively adapt their narratives and practices to tourists from various cultural backgrounds. An elaborate research design, a prerequisite to receive funding for the project, functioned as my blueprint. However, the Bali bomb in October 2005 (a month before my arrival), disrupted my original plan because less tourists would travel to Indonesia. In order to get a better sense of the situation, I started interviewing guides and other players in the local tourism industry. The relative absence of tourists made me focus on how people in Jogja are trained to become guides. I visited several tourism schools and observed aspirant-guides practicing their skills during study tours.

At the end of May, everybody was getting ready for the tourism high season. Hopes were high because more bookings than expected had been made. It was right then that disaster struck in the form of a large earthquake. In the first month after the quake, I monitored as much as possible how the local tourism sector was reacting to the tragedy. I collected as many media reports as possible, attended many relief and recovery planning meetings, and joined damage assessment teams to the various tourism attractions in the region. I also had long talks with some guides and travel agents, listening to how they perceived the situation and how they saw the future. In tune with the reality on the ground, my research focus is slowly shifting from a study of tour guiding under normal conditions to a study of the resilience of tourism service providers in times of crisis.

The Unpredictable Work Week of an Ethnographer in the Field
July 10, 2006


Visiting a tour guide at home

It is very hard to describe how a regular “day in the field” looks like for me, because every day is different. I usually start the week with a blank agenda but end it feeling exhausted from so much activity. Because I am working in a tropical climate, it is good to start the day early, when temperatures are still bearable. Locals do the same and I my research assistant or informants start contacting me from 6:30 AM onwards. My key informants are a varied group of people: a person working for the provincial tourism department, a local travel agent, an Indonesian tourism researcher, and several freelance and site-specific tour guides. These gatekeepers are the ones giving me entry to the world of local tourism, informing me when there are events or meetings.

Since the earthquake, I receive regular invitations to attend planning meetings with various tourism stakeholders. These give me a good opportunity to understand the dynamics of the local tourism industry and network with its key players. At the same time, the meetings enable me to practice my comprehension of the Indonesian language. At least once a week, I try to visit both the Kraton (Sultanís Palace) and the Prambanan temple complex, the two major provincial heritage attractions. I spend quality time talking with the guides and, when there are tourists, I join them on tours to observe the guide-tourist interactions. I also regularly have the opportunity to join city and village tours as observer. In the evenings, I spend several hours processing and storing the information gathered during the day. This blog gives me an extra opportunity to reflect on what I am doing.

As a result of my interest in tour guide training, I have been doing things I had not planned to do. Thanks to my key informants, I was invited to participate in training programs for junior guides, both at a local tourism school and a travel agent. In exchange for the privileged access, I agreed to give some guest lectures on the anthropology of tourism in both places. When there are no meetings or activities, I spend my time scanning the local media for tourism-related information. I use the casual chats I have with Indonesian friends or locals I meet to double-check my interpretations of the local culture and its links with tourism. Meetings with people that are not closely linked to my research sometimes produce interesting food for thought and often widen the lens through which I am looking at everything happening around me.

Bali its Bombs, Jogja its Earthquake, and Pangandaran its Tsunami
July 18, 2006


One disaster is enough to cope with

This week of fieldwork began promising: perfect weather and a unique opportunity to do some participant observation. After having obtained permission from the tour leader, I accompanied a group of young European tourists on a special tour to Bantul, Jogja's most affected district after the May 27 earthquake. The group was not planning a gloomy kind of disaster tourism, but had decided to alter their original travel scheme to help disaster victims clear the rubble around their houses (almost two months after the quake struck, there is still plenty of debris). I observed the activity while myself lending a helping hand. I returned home feeling pleased but tired. It was late afternoon and I desperately needed a mandi, an Indonesian-style bath in which you splash water all over you using a water scooper. However, my beeping cell phone forced me to think of other things. A short SMS from my younger sister, who is currently on holidays in Bali, inquired whether I was doing all right after the tsunami.

I first thought it was a bad joke, but immediately checked the Internet. I guess the recent events have made me feeling more insecure than before. Although I had not felt any tremors, there had indeed been a tsunami near Pangandaran, a beach resort in southwest Java popular with domestic as well as international tourists. The tidal wave killed dozens of people and destroyed tourism infrastructure and houses. Remembering the chaotic situation in Jogja in the hours after the quake, I could imagine people fleeing in panic and despair. Some of the relief personnel currently based in Jogja were immediately dispatched to the affected areas. Later that evening, I heard on the news that also the coast of Bantul had been hit by the tsunami and that some people had died there as well.

Having had to deal with the aftermath of the quake here, I feel absolutely no need to travel to Pangandaran and experience some more devastation. The island of Java, once thought to be the “Garden of Eden‚” seems to be plagued by a never-ending chain of natural disasters. I had never anticipated being involved in a situation like this. So far, I have survived the calamities with only minor material or psychological damage. However, after every disaster I have to reassess the direction my research is taking. Fortunately, ethnographic fieldwork allows one to be flexible. If I want it or not, this latest calamity will have its indirect toll on my work as well, as even more tourists will cancel their trips to Java. Ironically, the unexpected events offer me an anthropological gold mine of exceptional data. I increasingly see it as my ethical duty to create some products out of this fieldwork that will benefit the Indonesian people around me that have no other choice than to endure one misfortune after the other.

After the Facts: Normalcy for Some, Daily Survival Struggle for Others
August 4, 2006


Waiting for work

It already seems so long ago, but hardly two months have past since Jogja was struck by disaster. While everybody who experienced the quake is attentive to the frequent aftershocks, visitors to the city do not even feel them and barely notice that anything bad has happened. Even the Merapi volcano has turned silent. Some foreign tourists are disappointed because they had expected to see more spectacular damage (as shown on TV). In the poor villages down south, however, people are still living in tents, and will continue doing so for the foreseeable future. Most international relief workers have moved on to other zones of disaster. Predictably, the local distribution of recovery funds is laden with corruption, collusion, and nepotism-the triumvirate that has been ruling over Java from time immemorial. Life continues, for the better or the worse.

Many people, including myself, seem less self-centered and more attentive again to what is going on in the world outside Jogja. The Israel-Lebanon war, for example, provokes many commentaries from worried Indonesian Muslims. It is also one of the hot topics in the chats I have with tour guides and other tourism service providers although They are wise enough not to mention any of this when dealing with tourists. Telling tales about Java’s glorious past, the guides masterfully avoid politically sensitive topics, telling A thousand and one different stories. By visiting the same sites and attractions with diverse groups of tourists and guides, I get a clearer picture of how important narratives are in bringing heritage to life. The topic of the recent catastrophe is only tangentially mentioned, when the eye of the attentive tourist demands some explanation to interpret what is seen.

Although there are fewer tourists than usual during the high season, those who arrive in Jogja are greeted and treated warmly. Ironically, the low number of clients helps me uncover the local politics and poetics of tourism. Most local guides work freelance and are contracted by local travel agencies when there are clients. Given the abnormal condition, new guides or those who are poorly networked have virtually no work this summer. Understandably, travel agencies prefer to rely on those guides who have proven their worth. In other word, customer satisfaction prevails over post-quake solidarity. For site-specific guides, like those working at the Prambanan temple, the situation is dire. The management decided not to lower the entrance fee, despite the fact that tourists are not allowed to enter the temples. Under these circumstances, almost nobody is willing to pay the extra cost of a guide. The message the guides are giving to all visitors is clear: Please consider taking a guide. You also help the victims of catastrophic earthquake.

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~Noel

Noel B. Salazar
Ph.D. Candidate in Anthropology
Department of Anthropology
University of Pennsylvania
www.javacrisismediacenter.com

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