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TSUNAMI IMPACT
Fishermen worry about the future Tsunami leaves local fishing communities staring at the uncertainties ahead
by Anil Netto
Aliran Monthly Vol 24 (2004): Issue 11/12
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As the days turn into weeks, much of the joy of having cheated death has given way to uncertainty over the future among residents of Kampung Masjid, a cramped fishing village of plank houses on the narrow coastal stretch of northern Penang Island. Sandwiched by the sea on one side and the coastal road that rings Penang Island on the other, Kampong Masjid looks desolate. A few wet, sorry-looking chickens walk gingerly along muddy, narrow paths, inspecting the scene of the devastation. Located near the upper middle-class surburb of Tanjong Bungah, Kampong Masjid was one of several fishing settlements in northwest Malaysia badly hit by the Dec 26 tsunami. Several hundred villagers have lost their homes – about 16-20 out of the 39 houses here were damaged - and are now wondering whether their fishing communities will ever be the same. Here at Kampong Masjid, some residents worry that developers might be eyeing some of the state land (Temporary Occupation Licence) where they have lived for generations. Many of the fisherfolk in Kampung Masjid are ironically descended from migrants from Aceh in Sumatra, which suffered the worst devastation from the tsunami. ‘‘My grandfather from Sumatra was a fishermen here in Kampong Masjid,’’ says Salim (not his real name), also a fisherman, with a distant look. ‘‘He died three years ago at the age of 109.’’ A few fishermen told me the tsunami first struck Langkawi Island farther north at around 12.30 pm to 1 p.m. They said the beach boys at Langkawi alerted their counterparts at the beach hotels in Penang, who in turn warned hotel guests to stay away from the beach. The giant waves, they said, only struck Penang between 1.30 p.m. and 2.00 p.m. – ample time for warnings to have been issued. But not everybody was listening. ‘‘We heard that two fishermen at sea noticed unusual wave patterns and raced seven miles to shore in their 60-horsepower boats to alert some picnickers along Pantai Miami (Miami Beach, on the north coast of Penang Island) but they refused to listen.’’ Many of the dead were out-of-town visitors to the island and picnickers. Up to 5,000 fishermen in the state are affected, and 90 percent of some 1,600 boats were damaged or destroyed, and fish prices are expected to rise. A new boat (RM10,000) together with an engine (RM8,000) would cost close to RM20,000 while repairs to a damaged boat or engine could set the owner back RM1,000-3,000. ‘‘Where do we get the money for this?’’ wonders Salim. ‘‘Our houses have been damaged and we have nowhere to go.’’ Out of 100 fishermen at Kampong Masjid, about half are members of the local fishermen’s association. ‘They only promised aid to their members,’’ Salim laughs, derisively. ‘‘In contrast, the Buddhists didn’t care whether we were members when they gave us aid.’’ Clearly unhappy that the government bureaucracy took so long to reach them, the fishermen instead paid tribute to the Buddhist Tzu Chi group and church volunteers for their prompt response. ‘‘It took the government machinery about a week to get going while these groups were on the spot almost immediately.’’ At a relief centre at a school in Tanjong Bungah, Sree, a permanent resident from Indonesia who works at a food-processing factory in Batu Ferringhi, stares in space with a worried look. ‘‘I am not sure what to do,’’ she sighs. ‘‘My home has been badly damaged.’’
Some of the fund-raising initiatives carried out by prominent firms and media corporations in Kuala Lumpur have already collected hundreds of thousands of ringgit for tsunami victims. But a few evacuees in Tanjong Bungah told me that by 2 Jan 2005, they had only received around RM700 (RM500 from the state’s Social Welfare board and smaller amounts from zakat and the Buddhist Tzu Chi relief group). “We have to wait and see if there’s more to come,” says Salim. Some fishermen claim that aid is being channelled to victims via ruling coalition politicians and they wonder how much of it will go to the genuine cases. Aziz Kassim, a trader from the same village, looks annoyed. ‘‘Aid should go directly to the victims wherever they are in Malaysia,’’ he insists. ‘‘We don’t want what has happened here to happen elsewhere.’’ Meanwhile the state government says it will look into ways to help the fishermen regain their livelihood. The relief centre in Tanjong Bungah houses about 50 families or some 200 evacuees from Kampong Masjid. The evacuees believe they might be given temporary housing in a longhouse but some want to return to their village. They worry that the temporary housing might be too far away from the seashore. The fisherfolk in Kampong Masjid are also concerned about speculation that the state might use this opportunity to clear the land where their village stands and “develop” the area. ‘‘We must be based in our fishing village in Tanjong Bungah,’’ insists Salim, adding that they don’t want to be outside their fishing area, where they earn about RM700-800 a month. ‘‘They can redesign the village but we want to move back.’’ ‘‘I am wondering when all this will be over; it has disrupted my work,’’ he sighs. ‘‘In the short-term we are okay, but what is worrying us is the long-term – whether we will get the money to buy new equipment and return to our way of life in the fishing village we know.’’
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