Bali's struggle for survival

By Rosie Goldsmith

Leniasih is 25 years old. She has two children. She is stunningly beautiful and smiling like an angel.

But at the same time, a tear rolls down her face. Her husband was killed in the Bali bombing last year.

And what has happened in Jakarta has brought it all back. The island is in a state of shock.

More than a third of the victims were local Indonesians

It was a Saturday night in October. Perfect weather. The Kuta beach resort was dense with Westerners - the usual mix of surfers and backpackers.

None of the locals went there to have fun - they went to work.

Leniasih's husband was a bartender in the Sari nightclub.

It was a good job. It brought money home for the family.

That night, the Sari Club, Paddy's Bar opposite and the whole seething street were blown to pieces.

My husband was identified by his shoes - he had no arms and no head Bali resident Leniasih

As she nurses her baby, Leniasih calmly describes how eventually she found her husband.

"I went to the hospital. I couldn't find his body anywhere so I decided to consult a local holy man.

"Let's call up your husband's spirit," he said.

"And so his spirit appeared and spoke to me: 'My head is not on my body,' it said. 'Go back to the hospital and you'll find that I am in a plastic bag with four other people's body parts. They've mixed up people's limbs up'."

"So," she said, "I went back to the hospital and it was all as he had told me. He was identified by his shoes. He had no arms and no head."

Local toll

More than a third of the victims of the Bali bombs were local Indonesians.

They were mostly young men like Leniasih's husband who had left their villages to make a living from tourism.

The Balinese call the bomb site Ground Zero, likening it to the New York tragedy a year earlier.

There are no eager international architects drawing up plans for memorials or new buildings

I can see two neat craters partly cordoned off by ramshackle corrugated iron. There is no security.

There are no eager international architects drawing up plans for memorials or new buildings.

A Hindu shrine miraculously survived the bombing.

Bali is 95% Hindu in the world's most populous Muslim country.

The other suspects still being tried in connection with the bombings are Muslim.

Everyone I meet is watching the trials on TV, reliving the tragedy.

But there's little anger. This is not how Bali works.

"Our religion and our traditions are helping us," Leniasih tells me.

Tourism hit

As I walk through deserted Kuta I'm not dodging tourists, but the daily streetside offerings to the gods of rice and flowers.

Before the attacks, Bali was one of the world's top tourist destinations.

The white sand, the surf, those perfect beaches fringed with palm trees - they are still here, but the tourists are staying away.

What happened here in Bali, this tragedy, it's our destiny Bali resident Dewa

I buy four bright beach bags from four different shops vaguely hoping I'm doing something to help the Balinese economy.

"We are so sorry!" Dewa is apologising to me. "You foreigners were guests in our country and we didn't take care of you."

It is Dewa who has brought me to Ground Zero, where he was seriously injured. Today he is almost blind. He has cuts and burns all over his body.

Dewa testified against convicted Bali bomber Amrozi.

During the trial, Dewa heard him say: "What would have happened to Bali if I hadn't bombed it? The morals of Indonesians would be ruined by Westerners."

I ask Dewa whether he is angry with Amrozi. "What happened here in Bali," he replies, "this tragedy, it's our destiny."

Paradise under threat

Now hundreds of young men like Dewa have left the half-empty hotels and shops and returned to their villages, the spiritual heart of Balinese life.

They were the first generation to leave home. Now they are going back there.

Balinese are working hard to return the island to normal

They enjoyed the most spectacular economic growth in all Indonesia. Now they sit idle.

These are people who only know tourism. The whole island is dependent on it.

Their mothers and fathers are the farmers who used to supply the tourist trade with fresh fruit, vegetables and fish.

"What can we do? Tell us!!" Made, one young villager, pleads with me.

"Soon there won't be enough food in this village to feed us all. Soon I am afraid we will become criminals. How else can we make money? Help us to bring the tourists back!"

I hear this plea all over the island. But at this time of crisis, can this tranquil, exquisite place remain peaceful?

I see malnourished children and old people. I see the first signs of ethnic tension in the mixed Muslim-Hindu areas of the north.

A market place was burned down - the rumour is by Hindus in retaliation against Muslims.

This is not the Bali any one who has been here will recognise.

Back on Kuta beach, they are selling T-shirts with the slogans: "Terrorism won't stop us!" and "Osama doesn't surf!".

After the Jakarta bombing, they are probably giving them away.