After Indonesia Quake, Grandmother Rebuilds Life Around Orphaned Granddaughter
A grandmother in Indonesia recounts how her son-in-law died shielding his daughter in a quake, and her struggle to care for the child.
Debrina Kelu, a grandmother of five, remembers August 15 as the day her quiet life in Manggarai, East Nusa Tenggara, was shattered. A powerful 7.7-magnitude earthquake struck off the coast of eastern Indonesia at 5:58 a.m., killing at least 71 people and collapsing buildings across the Flores region. A tsunami warning was issued and later lifted.
Kelu and her husband, Martinus Sali, survived, but their home was badly damaged. The greater loss, however, was personal: her son-in-law, Daeng Supriyadin, died when his own house collapsed as he tried to shield his young daughter, Fitri.
"We all survived, but my son-in-law, Daeng, died after being struck by the rubble of his house while trying to protect his daughter," Kelu said.
Fitri survived, but witnessed her father's final moments. Kelu recounted how the girl kept calling for her father, seeing his hand still holding his cellphone beneath the rubble. He had covered her with his body, but as she called, he grew heavier and stopped responding.
"That was when she realized that her father had died," Kelu said.
For a young child, grief is confusing. Fitri now asks, "Daddy Daeng, Daddy Daeng, where did Daddy go?" The family has taken her to his grave, where she tried to care for him in her own way, picking flowers and preparing water.
"Grandma, these flowers are for Daddy, and this water is to pour on Daddy's grave," Kelu recalled her saying.
Back home, the walls are cracked and belongings lie scattered among the ruins. For Kelu, rebuilding means more than repairing a house. She worries about the two young children left without a father, and her own ability to care for them.
"As their grandmother, I feel worried and uncertain about how I will take care of these young children, especially since I am no longer young myself," she said.
For Kelu, the earthquake is no longer measured in magnitude or collapsed buildings. It is the empty space left by someone who will not return, and a child still asking where her father has gone.