The air was filled with the sweet fragrance of plumerias. White, puffy clouds floated across the sky. As the evening sun shone gently on red roof tiles, a cluster of pigeons fluttered from their perch on a roof up toward the sky. At a railroad crossing, trishaws and pedestrians waited patiently as a train crawled through. Not far away, horse-drawn carriages clip-clopped by.

Lights lit up one by one. Roadside stalls selling batik clothing and handbags, silver ornaments and lacquerware awaited the patronage of tourists. More and more food vendors pushed their carts out into side alleys ready for another night's business.

From the perspective of an outsider like me, the earthquake that hit Yogyakarta half a year ago did not seem to have damaged the beauty and leisurely ambiance of the city. Advertisements for the upcoming mayoral election adorned the streets, and road signs that directed tourists to scenic spots were everywhere to be seen. The tourism industry, the city's economic backbone, took a heavy blow from the tremor, but it was obviously beginning to revive as Western tourists could often be seen strolling around the city, appreciating its world-renowned cultural beauty.

However, even though Yogyakarta was well on its way to recovery, the earthquake did leave indelible traces and it still affected the lives of many people, especially those who lived in the rural districts. These people lost families and homes to the catastrophe, but they were powerless to do anything except quietly accept their fate.

Look on the bright side

Our car stopped at Beran Village in Bantul, south of Yogyakarta. Walking towards a group of tents erected under the shade of trees, we were warmly greeted by a gray-haired woman dressed in red. Ny Ikem, 60, cordially embraced us as if she had known us for a long time, and she immediately began babbling in nonstop Javanese, a language we did not understand.

Her right leg was injured during the earthquake, and when Tzu Chi set up a free clinic in the disaster area, she was treated by our doctors. She seemed to have recovered well, as now the only visible trace of her wound was a small scar on her leg.

She lived alone in a tent that her fellow villagers had put up for her. In the cramped living space, the only things that could be seen were a bed, a blanket, some clothes, and a pair of crutches no longer in use. Her face beamed with gratitude as she poured out words in a rapid flow. It was a pity we did not understand what she was talking about. Huang Rui-hua (黃瑞花), a Tzu Chi volunteer from Jakarta, observed, "Although it's the first time we met her, she must have recognized us by our blue-and-white Tzu Chi uniforms. That's why she treated us with such warm cordiality. The volunteers who took care of her before must have been very nice to her."

After we stepped out of Ny's tent, 47-year-old Murdilah walked up to us with a baby in her arms. Like Ny, Murdilah was injured in the quake--her left leg was fractured--and after receiving treatment from our medical team, she was hospitalized for 21 days. Fortunately she had also completely recovered. "Now except for some occasional soreness," she said with a smile, "I can feel nothing wrong with my leg."

"My youngest son is in elementary school and my oldest is in college, but I'm already a grandmother," she said, referring to the baby she was holding in her arms. When she saw the look of surprise on our faces, her face showed a mixture of pride and shyness. Despite having to live in a tent, she was apparently content and happy in her present situation.

After leaving Beran, we came to the village of Tangkil. We stopped before a brick house in front of which stood a canvas tent and a pile of rubble on which some clothes were drying in the sun. We entered the tent and were greeted by the smiling face of the master of the house, Patri Wardi, a 50-year-old farmer walking with a crutch.

Patri was afflicted with polio when he was a child, so his right leg was atrophied. His condition was further aggravated when his legs were crushed in the quake. Fortunately, after our Tzu Chi doctors operated on him, his injuries healed, although he still needed to rely on a crutch to get around.

Out of 350 houses in Tangkil, only two remained standing after the temblor. Most of the villagers were still living in tents or prefabricated houses. Patri was one of the few who had finished rebuilding their dwellings. His new house had a small storeroom, a bathroom, and a bedroom with small openings in the walls that allowed for ventilation and for streaks of light to peek through.

"After I was discharged from the hospital, I immediately set out to rebuild my house," said Patri. "It took six million rupiahs (US$640), three workers, and 20 workdays to have the house built." He was obviously proud of being able to do it within such a short time. "The bricks, door frames, and beams were all salvaged from piles of rubble. I only needed to pay for the other building materials like cement, sand, and nails, and the workers' wages." Although the house was completed, it was still too small to accommodate a family of six, so some of his family members still spent their nights in the tent.

I saw some food provisions piled up in the storeroom, so I asked Patri how long the food would sustain them. He held up three fingers. "What will happen when the food is eaten up in three months?" I pursued. "We'll need to buy more." "Do you have money to buy it? "No," he said, still smiling brilliantly.

Patri went on to say, "Compared with the other villagers, we're already in pretty good shape. Some of them still have to make do with tents, but we already have a house to live in. I'm more than contented." Before we left, we took a picture of Patri, his wife, and his daughter. There were no signs of worry on his face, only gratitude and contentment.

Prefabricated houses

Like Patri said, some survivors still lived in tents six months after the earthquake. But things were beginning to improve. With the help of charitable organizations, prefabricated houses were going up one after another, providing a more decent and dignified way of living for the survivors.

On a road in Dusun Village, near SDN Jonggalan elementary school, some students cycling home after school whizzed by a row of prefabricated houses built of bamboo, canvas, and corrugated steel sheets. "IOM"--three big letters made of braided rope--were attached to the outside of one of the houses. We approached a family sitting in the shade of a tree enjoying the cool air. The head of the family, Menik, explained to us, "These houses were built for us by the International Organization for Migration (IOM). Each unit costs two million rupiahs (US$210) and takes about one week to complete. We all pitched in to help."

IOM taught local villagers to build the prefab units with locally available materials. The bamboo poles and coconut tree trunks that make up the frameworks of the prefabs are transported from West Java, and the walls are made from gedek, a kind of bamboo matting. Waterproof tarpaulins and corrugated steel sheets cover the houses and the base is paved with concrete. According to IOM, these prefabs, designed to last at least two years, are economical to build because of the easily obtainable building materials and the short construction time. With the rainy season just around the corner, they will definitely make better shelters than canvas tents.

"We're very thankful to IOM for building the houses for us," said Menik. "They're more spacious and allow a lot more privacy than the tents. The only downside is that it gets very hot inside the house when the sun is strong. So we often have to come outside to enjoy the cool air."

Menik is a construction worker, and now he makes a living by working in the village reconstruction projects. He said that Tzu Chi volunteers came to the village twice to distribute food to them. "The food was all eaten up. But now we can rely on our own strength to make money."

As we walked around the villages, we saw many different styles of bamboo prefabricated houses funded by various organizations. To be able to move from tents into prefabs was good news, but what was even more uplifting for the survivors was that the government had finally set its reconstruction plans into motion.

Return to normal

Mixing cement with sand, adding in water, and churning and stirring the ingredients together--some young men were working hard under the scorching sun. Somewhere near them, other workers were building walls by carefully putting one brick over another. With the government's reconstruction projects finally under way, the locals were one step further towards returning to normal life, even though they had waited for this day for half a year.

In Beran, we ran into Vialjiaman, a maintenance mechanic at a sugar refinery. He was one of the men in charge of the government reconstruction project. He explained to us how the project worked.

For every 15 households, the government set up a head supervisor, who was charged with the responsibility of overseeing and organizing related construction work. Every family, regardless of its size, was allotted a plot of land of 36 square meters (391 sq ft) and 6 million rupiahs for the reconstruction. "The money was not enough, so we needed to salvage usable materials from the ruins," said Vialjiaman. To speed up the reconstruction work, younger workers were hired to build the houses, and they were paid with the subsidies provided by the government. "We also decided to build first for disadvantaged people like widows and elderly people who live alone."

Looking at the young men dripping with perspiration as they worked hard under the hot sun, Vialjiaman said in good spirits, "I'm not the village head. But when the government announced its plan to rebuild, I was elected as one of the persons in charge, so I naturally took on the responsibility. My house didn't suffer any damage in the quake, so I won't be benefiting from the rebuilding effort. But I'm still happy to be engaged in the project. It's nice to see one house after another going up."

Vialjiaman also expressed thanks to the many philanthropic organizations that came to the disaster areas to distribute relief supplies after the earthquake. "Thanks to their help, many of my fellow villagers who were injured during the earthquake have been able to get through this difficult time. Now most of them have recovered from their injuries and are returning to work. I believe life will gradually return to normal." Hearing what Vialjiaman said, we sincerely prayed that the survivors would soon get back on their feet and put their lives back together.

"As long as we are still safe and sound"

It did look as if everything was returning to normal: People were recovering from their injuries, new houses were being built, and factories were opening up. But for some pottery shop owners in Kasongan, a village known for its ceramics, there was still some way to go before life could really return to what it used to be.

Terracotta vats, ceramic works, woven bamboo vases, and statues of the Buddha sat in rows in a display area built of corrugated steel sheets. The original exhibition hall had been demolished in the tremor, so the proprietor set up a temporary display area with steel sheets. We walked into the shop and saw the proprietor discussing prices with a customer. After exchanging greetings with us, she described to us how her business had suffered after the catastrophe.

"My customers are mostly from Europe and Malaysia. Business was booming before the earthquake. But the disaster inflicted a heavy blow on my business--both my factory and shop collapsed in the tremor." She suffered a monetary loss of more than 250 million rupiahs (US$26,510), and had to borrow 150 million rupiahs from her relatives and the government to rebuild her business. "It took me four months to borrow that much money, during which time I also had to negotiate with my foreign customers about giving me extensions on the delivery deadlines previously agreed upon."

She said with a wry smile, "My house didn't suffer any damage, but my employees weren't so lucky. Among my 17 employees, 15 lost their homes to the temblor. Fortunately they all emerged uninjured out of the earthquake--that's what's most important." Now with government loans to pay back and outstanding orders to fill, she had no time to worry about the future. "What I need to do now is work harder, not allow myself to indulge in worry and dismay."

Along the main road in Kasongan, 80 percent of the pottery shops had been restored to their former condition. But quite a few smaller workshops were still struggling to get back on their feet. "Some of the workshop owners lost not only their shops but their homes too," said Waluyo, who runs a pottery factory. "They don't even have the time and money to rebuild their businesses. When a farmer loses his home, he still has his farm to work on. But who's going to help us after our shops have collapsed and our equipment has been damaged?"

With almost all his worldly possessions gone, the only thing Waluyo could fall back on was a group of healthy employees and their exquisite skills. "I used my savings to buy new materials and tools, and I asked the factories which had sustained less severe damage during the quake to subcontract some of their work to us. That way, we could at least make some money."

Recently, some good news had uplifted the hearts of Waluyo and the other survivors: The government had started distributing subsidies to help the survivors rebuild their homes. "When our houses are finished, our future will be full of hope again." Looking at his shop and house lying in ruins, Waluyo laughed, "At first we were really at a loss about how to pick up the pieces. But I gather that as long as we are still safe and sound, there is always a way to work things out. Rather than worrying, I choose to work harder--after all, I still have to pay my workers their wages."

Many survivors in Bantul had chosen to return to work to forget the pain brought about by the disaster; besides, work could bring them money. The slogan "Kapok ngemis" written on a wall--meaning "I don't want to beg anymore"--was a reflection of their feelings. They did not want to depend on help anymore. They wanted to stand up on their own.

Prefabricated classrooms

The massive earthquake not only demolished houses and businesses, but it also caused great damage to schools in the disaster areas. While people were working hard to return to a normal life, schools were also doing their best to reduce the impact of the catastrophe on their students by providing lessons in tents and prefabricated classrooms pending the construction of new classrooms.

There are more than 120 universities and colleges in Yogyakarta, Indonesia's educational stronghold. Unlike the tourism industry that was rapidly returning to its former glory, most of the universities were still in the process of reconstruction. In addition to the institutions of higher learning, over 200 elementary and secondary schools were also affected by the earthquake, and more than 10,000 students were forced to attend classes outdoors.

"One week after the earthquake, we started conducting classes in tents set up on the playground," recollected Hanggeng Waluyo, who teaches at SDN Jonggalan elementary school, as he stood outside an empty, roofless classroom.

"After the earthquake, enthusiastic organizations provided tents so that we could continue giving lessons to the students. But there are many drawbacks to having classes in a tent, one of which is the unbearable heat. Both teachers and students find the heat too much to stand."

With no clear distinctions between the four seasons, it is hot all year round in Indonesia, and the high during the day can be over 30 degrees Celsius (86 Fahrenheit). Although the tents provide shelter from the sun and rain, the heat trapped in them is infernal. Poor sound insulation is also a problem. After offering initial emergency aid, many organizations began to think of ways to improve the situation. UNICEF, for example, started building prefabricated classrooms for schools. Three such classrooms were built for SDN Jonggalan elementary school. Although the classrooms were unable to accommodate all the students, Principal Subadi was happy enough.

Building schools, building hope

"I'm really grateful to UNICEF for building the prefab classrooms and providing uniforms, textbooks, school bags, and other supplies for our students," Subadi remarked, as he showed us around the school. Although the earthquake had caused a great deal of damage, the outpouring of kindness from many different organizations had made the path to recovery a lot easier to travel on.

"I also want to thank Tzu Chi for helping us rebuild our school. Now we no longer have to worry about the reconstruction problem." The principal was referring to the school reconstruction project that Tzu Chi had undertaken in Yogyakarta. After careful assessment and evaluation, the foundation had decided to finance the reconstruction of five schools in Yogyakarta, including SMAN 1 Jetis, SMPN 1 Jetis, SDN Jonggalan, SDN 1 Jetis, and SDN Trimulyo. The plan is to repair the less severely damaged SMAN 1 Jetis, and construct a two-story U-shaped building that could house the other four schools. Scheduled to be completed in half a year, the new building will be located on the campus of SMAN 1 Jetis. With a total of 48 classrooms, it will be able to accommodate 1,450 students.

After leaving SDN Jonggalan, we came to another school Tzu Chi was helping to rebuild--SMPN 1 Jetis--and we saw students having classes in tents erected in an open area. Principal Damiri greeted us enthusiastically. In the reception room, he told us of the difficulties the school was going through. "When the new semester began and it was time to hand in school tuition, many parents came to us and said that their homes had toppled in the quake and that they had lost everything.... After discussing it with our teaching staff, we decided not to collect tuition and let our students continue receiving lessons."

Did the government consent to that? "No, they did not," the principal answered with a smile. "But the government has provided subsidies to us, so we're doing our best to make do."

After visiting several other schools, we found that they were all in the same financially strained situation. Fortunately most of them had been able to get help from charity organizations, and teachers were also doing their best to help students apply for government scholarships. In the villages near SMAN 1 Jetis high school, 90 percent of the houses had been destroyed in the temblor. Many parents asked the school if they could pay their children's tuition in installments. Having no other alternative, the principal could only agree to it. "After all, it's a tough time for all of us, and we need to work together to pull through."

The principal thanked Tzu Chi again for rebuilding the school for them. "The help of charity organizations has gone a long way towards easing our burden. We really appreciate what you have done for us. We'll do our best to run the school properly when the new classrooms are completed."

The groundbreaking ceremony

On November 14, 2006, ground was broken for the school reconstruction project launched by Tzu Chi in Yogyakarta. Governmental officials, school principals, students, and Tzu Chi volunteers from Indonesia gathered together to celebrate the joyous occasion.

At the ceremony, Idham Samawi, the regent of Bantul, provided the keynote address. "We are really happy that the Tzu Chi Foundation can rebuild these schools for us. I hope the school principals will lead their students in prayer every day for the new schools to be completed as soon as possible. When the schools are finished, the principals should work even harder to cultivate talents for our society."

Sugianto Kusuma, vice-CEO of the Tzu Chi Indonesia branch, brought with him blessings from foundation volunteers from around the world. "We hope that teachers will inspire love in students so that when the students grow up and become the pillars of our society, they will do their best to help those in need."

"Indonesia, my native land, my place of birth...." The national anthem of Indonesia sounded, and the students sang aloud in chorus. In the faces of these children, we saw hope for the future.

Half a year after the earthquake, Yogyakarta was well on its way to recovery. Thanks to help from international aid organizations and the efforts of the survivors themselves, the city was emerging from the shadow of the disaster and greeting the future with perseverance and courage. We believe that with so much love and support from all over the world converging on the city, Yogyakarta will soon rise from the debris and completely regain its former glory.