Slow recovery for tsunami orphans

BANDA ACEH, INDONESIA - The 2004 tsunami obliterated Pipit's village, wiped out her family and swept her through churning waters, cascading debris and hurtling bodies.

On her first night as an orphan, at the age of 13, she slept next to a row of corpses.

Five years later, she still has moments of sadness, especially during holidays. But like many of Indonesia's more than 5,200 known tsunami orphans, she is making a life for herself. She has enrolled in university, plays the violin and plans to tackle German.

"Most of the time, I don't think about the tsunami," said Pipit, who lives in a comfortable orphanage in Banda Aceh, the capital of Aceh Province and close to the epicenter of the earthquake that unleashed one of the worst natural disasters in history.

"I'm trying to be strong," said Pipit, who like many Indonesians uses just one name.

The December 26, 2004, quake was at least a magnitude 9.1, and unleashed towering waves that leveled communities from Indonesia to Thailand, India and Sri Lanka. About 230,000 people died, more than half of them in Aceh on the island of Sumatra.

More than $13 billion in donations poured in from around the world, nearly half for Aceh. In some Indonesian communities, only the mosque was left standing. They have been rebuilt. Destroyed homes have been replaced by sturdier ones, new schools have gone up and freshly paved roads crisscross the region.

The emotional recovery of the orphans hasn't been as complete. Some continue to struggle with loneliness and anger, and founder in school.

Eight-year-old Arif Munandar lives in a picturesque neighborhood, at the water's edge and ringed by mountains, that has been completely restored with help from international and Indonesian donors.

He lost his parents and two sisters in the tsunami and was adopted by his mother's sister, Jamilah. They live in a family compound teeming with aunts, uncles and cousins who share three adjacent houses.

Arif has trouble concentrating at school and often gets into scuffles. Jamilah tries to teach him about the Qur'an, but he doesn't want to listen. "I don't know what to do," she said.

In the immediate aftermath, Arif cried for his mother all the time. It took his aunt a month to work up the courage to tell him his parents were dead.

"Five years later, they've almost forgotten it happened," said Nurhayati, the vice principal. "They look cheerful again."

Only a handful, she said, are still clearly haunted by it, including Arif.

"He's a loner," Nurhayati said. "He daydreams a lot."

The count of 5,200 orphans may seem low, considering more than 100,000 people died in Aceh. That's partly because so many children died, and partly because many were taken in by family and left out of the official statistics.

Most seem to be coping well, said Justin Curry, a psycho-social technical adviser for the American Red Cross tsunami recovery program. "The great thing about kids is that they are resilient," he said. "They can handle a tremendous amount."

At her orphanage, the 93 females, all of them clad in Muslim head scarves, appear to be well-behaved and happy, needing only four adults to supervise the two dormitories. The facilities include basketball and volleyball courts, an outdoor cafe and a mosque.

Pipit's close friend, Intan, chose to live in the orphanage, funded by a Turkish nonprofit, because she found it more appealing than living with her strict grandmother, who took her in after Intan's parents died.