Reflections on the 2004 tsunami

By Roni Bintang

26 December 2024, Newcastle, Australia.

On this day 20 years ago, when the 2004 tsunami occurred, I was in Simeulue, where I was born. I had been back on the island for several months and was planning to return to Java, where I had been living and studying. But the earthquake and tsunami changed those plans.

The night before the earthquake, my friends and I stayed up late, and I didn’t go to sleep until very late. On Sunday morning, around 8am, I felt a violent jolt. I wasn’t sure whether I was awake or dreaming. I quickly ran out of the house, still in my shorts, and found that people had already scattered outside. They were unable to stand and were sitting on the asphalt road. I heard the loud crash of glass breaking from a nearby shop. Behind our house, there was a hill, and I saw a large tree swaying violently. 

Sinabang, where I was, is located in a protected bay, so the tsunami had minimal impact on the housing and residents. However, just 20 km away, huge tsunami waves, reportedly 10 to 15 meters high, swept through. Fortunately, the residents had fled to the hills before the tsunami hit. 1700 houses were swept away by the tsunami. In our local language we call a tsunami a smong*. 

Communication lines and electricity were completely cut off in Simeulue. We didn’t know what had happened in Aceh and the surrounding areas until several days or even a week later. We had no idea. Twenty years later, I still have questions. Like - how prepared are we to face similar natural disasters in the future? Is the early warning system effective? Last month, I returned to Simeulue and Aceh to find out more. 

Banda Aceh

Visiting Banda Aceh now, it’s hard to imagine that 20 years ago, one of the most devastating events in human history took place here. The markets and coffee shops are lively, and busy streets have returned to a landscape that was once washed away. But there are still reminders. When I visited areas directly affected by the disaster, I saw houses and sites preserved as monuments. Places that are frozen in that terrible moment.

I was in Banda Aceh to work with a crew on a TV documentary about the tsunami. We attended the UNESCO-IOC Global Tsunami Symposium. As part of the event there was an earthquake and tsunami drill to show participants the community’s readiness in the event of a future disaster.

A young BMKG employee was tasked with sounding the tsunami warning alarm that afternoon. With a cellphone connected to a video call, he walked toward a building equipped with a sound system designed to broadcast tsunami warning signals through loudspeakers on the tower. He had to unlock the padlock on the building, then set up the equipment and wait for the signal to activate it. 

It was just a drill, so he was relaxed. But I wondered, what if this was a real earthquake? Should our warning system really depend on a public servant finding a key and manually sounding an alarm?

Early warning

I also had the opportunity to meet Professor Syamsidik, the head of the TDMRC Tsunami and Disaster Mitigation and Research Center. In an interview with The Australian newspaper this week, he said, “People are more aware now of what to do after a big quake, unlike in 2004. But we are not in a better position in terms of spatial planning and emergency infrastructure.” Professor Syamsidik wants the government to invest in proper tsunami warning systems, with buoys in the ocean that give more time for people to evacuate. 

Of course, there is better awareness of tsunamis now. Who could forget?  I asked teenagers who were not yet born in 2004 for their thoughts on it. They often said that they would be better prepared if a similar event were to occur in the future. "We hear about it from our parents' stories and see it in pictures and TV programs aired every year.” But awareness without warning does not equal survival.

There was another earthquake in April 2012, which caused panic in the local population. Sirens that should have sounded as a warning signal did not work at all. It turned out that numerous sirens were damaged and unable to alert people in coastal areas. That time, fortunately, there was no tsunami.

Local wisdom

From December 2004 to 2009, I was involved in the emergency response and post-tsunami rehabilitation and reconstruction projects with international NGOs, both in Simeulue and other parts of Aceh. I witnessed several projects that did not meet expectations and failed to run as planned. These projects cost a lot of money but were ultimately neglected.

I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had been in Banda Aceh 20 years ago, instead of Simeulue. Would I be alive? 

Last month I met Ahmadi, another man from Simeulue, who was working in Banda Aceh when the earthquake struck. When he saw the river water slowly receding from the bridge, he remembered the story his grandmother had told him and shouted, “Smong, smong, run! Run!” But no one paid attention. They likely didn’t understand. He rode home, as quickly as he could.

“If it weren't for my grandmother's story about smong, I might not be here with you today,” he said.

There are many lessons we still must learn from the tsunami. Not all of them are about planning and technology. Some are about the wisdom we have possessed for generations. The knowledge of smong helped to reduce the number of fatalities on my island to seven lives. Something I just learned last month is that in the 2004 disaster, people in Banda Aceh thought Simeulue had sunken into the sea and gone. We had survived, and we keep going.

Today I’m grateful to my ancestors, and all people who keep this knowledge alive. I pray for all the victims and survivors. The Acehnese people are still in mourning, and the world shares in their condolences.

*Simeulue Island is situated 40 km south of the epicenter of the December 26, 2004, 9.1-magnitude earthquake, which triggered the Indian Ocean tsunami that resulted in over 200,000 deaths across 14 countries. However, in Simeulue, only 7 people died. This is largely due to a story passed down since the last major tsunami in 1907. In the local language, a tsunami is called "smong." One of the ways this knowledge is passed down is through song (nandong), which teaches the people of Simeulue that if there is a massive earthquake followed by the water receding, they must move to higher ground. Nandong is a spoken tradition that shares lessons, tales, and humor, highlighting the distinctive culture of the Simeulue community. Today, local wisdom continues to be passed down through nandong. In Simeulue, children are taught these stories, and there are competitions for the best nandong performance. This tradition is unique to the island.

See images from this trip to Simeulue and Banda Aceh in November 2024 at Getty Images.