Yogyakarta's hidden wounds

By Lucy Williamson
BBC News, Jakarta

When dawn stains the low houses around Yogyakarta on Sunday, Erna will be thinking about her life a year ago - about the daily routines she had, about the plans for her upcoming wedding, about the closeness of her community - unremarkable and familiar.

Then, at five minutes to six in the morning, the moment when it all changed.

Erna was inside her house when the earthquake hit - an earthquake measuring 6.3 which killed more than 5,700 people and flattened almost everything in its path.

People are struggling to come to terms with last year's quake

Erna's memories of that moment are painful, and vivid.

She told me it began with a shaking movement. She thought at first it was because she was feeling a little dizzy, so instead of running outside, she sat down and closed her eyes.

"Once I opened my eyes," she said, "all I could see was the wall falling and hitting my lower body, and at that moment I felt my tail bone snap. I knew my spine was broken because I couldn't feel my legs and there was no pain.

"My sister came in and tried to help, but I was piled in so deep that she wasn't strong enough to lift the weight.

"Then another tremor followed and more wreckage came down on top of me - it covered my whole body from the back to the front, leaving just my head free."

Suicide attempts

Erna lost the use of her legs, and with that, she says her life changed 180 degrees.

Suddenly she was no longer independent, no longer accepted by her fiance's family, and alienated by many people in her village.

She has tried to commit suicide three times in the past year. The reasons are simple.

"First, the unbearable pain. Second, the fact that I felt so helpless and didn't want to spend my life paralysed in bed.

"After the operation on my spine, the pin shifted and punctured by back. The doctors said if I didn't have another operation I would spend the rest of my life in bed paralysed, but the NGO funding my operations said the money was all spent.

"I thought to myself, if I have to spend the rest of my life in bed paralysed, I'd rather die."

Erna got her operation, and can now move around in a wheelchair, but she struggled to rebuild a life for herself in her village.

And the cancellation of her wedding by her fiance's parents caused another bout of depression, and another suicide attempt.

As she describes it, "I was in so much pain, I just lost hope."

Community spirit

The story of people like Erna has sometimes been lost amid the good news story of the rebuilding effort in Yogyakarta.

The hardest thing for me to do is to get involved in society again Erna

In the past year, according to the World Bank, more than half the 280,000 houses destroyed in the quake have been rebuilt, along with roads and water supplies.

The World Bank's acting country director has described the speed of the reconstruction as setting "a new international standard" - something he has described as a testament to the community-driven approach used in Yogyakarta.

It is often said of Yogyakarta, and the areas around it, that the community spirit there is among the strongest around.

There is a name for it: gotong royong.

And it means that members of a village will share whatever aid they receive, will work together without question, and will preserve the welfare of the group above any one individual.

But growing up in a society like that can make it even harder when you are excluded.

The Red Cross estimates that more than 1,000 people suffered spinal injuries during the earthquake, leaving many of them unable to move around freely, or take part in the activities of the community.

Radio connection

Red Cross workers in the worst affected districts noticed a rise in cases of depression and attempted suicide among these victims, and they came up with a new idea.

People are similar in similar situations and peer support is the most important thing - to talk to someone else who knows what you're going through; someone else who was there Oystein Larsen Red Cross delegation head

They began providing two-way radios to people like Erna, to help them stay connected.

Every morning, a health worker will call in to check how she is feeling, there are information broadcasts and daily Koran readings for those who cannot get to the mosque.

But more than that, Erna has felt the benefit of just being able to talk to other people in her position.

"The hardest thing for me to do is to get involved in society again," she said.

"I used to daydream a lot, and think about my condition to the point where I would try to commit suicide.

"But now when I get lonely I just call my friends. We share stories or experiences, or just chat about anything - personal problems, the work, the pain. Sometimes in the morning I go online and just sing, and eventually someone joins in."

The radios are expensive by local standards - around $30-$40 (£15-£20) each - but it is an idea the Red Cross is thinking of expanding to other disaster situations.

"People are similar in similar situations," according to delegation head Oystein Larsen, "and peer support is the most important thing - to talk to someone else who knows what you're going through, someone else who was there."