Jane Perlez and Evelyn Rusli, Kling Meria – Like many of the hundreds of thousands of survivors left homeless by the recent tsunami, Mohamed Adan, his wife and their six children confront an unpalatable choice about where to go now. But here in Aceh that decision must be made at the intersection of natural calamity and civil war.
The couple has returned several times to the shards of their house, and as they contemplate the landscape of loss, they wonder if they will ever be able to come back. "Who will rebuild it?" asked Mr. Adan, 60, of the brick, tin-roofed home he built with his own hands, where his wife tended a garden of lush mango trees and brilliant bougainvillea.
They could stay in a neighboring village with one of their grown daughters but are afraid of the added burden on her. Or they could go to one of the 24 resettlement camps that the government has started to build for some of the displaced.
But the notion of large numbers of people in close quarters guarded by soldiers raises sour memories – and some real fear – in the Aceh region of northwestern Sumatra, where the government has fought an insurgency for nearly 30 years.
In various phases of the long-running civil conflict, the government has herded people into relocation camps, often after houses were destroyed by the army. Under the banner of security, the government used the camps to keep separatist rebels from mixing with local populations.
Some Indonesian aid agencies say the new camps could end up serving a similar purpose, and local people share the concern.
"I am worried that this is another kind of martial law," said Livia Iskander, a psychologist and a member of an Acehnese aid agency, Recovery. "The relocation camps should not be controlled by the military. They should be given back to the community, so people will not live in constant fear."
The government has already begun construction of two resettlement camps, which it prefers to call centers, that it will administer with the United Nations high commissioner for refugees. The first two camps, one near the Banda Aceh airport, will consist of 10 barracks-style buildings made of wood and metal sheeting, said the site supervisor, Adi Putra.
"Of course we will have soldiers there," said Maj. Gen. Bambang Darmono, the officer in charge of the operation.
The United Nations refugee agency says it is not opposed to the army's presence at the camps if it is to provide security and is for the purpose of "law and order," said the deputy representative for the agency in Southeast Asia, Stiphane Jaquemet. But he added, "If it goes beyond that and its purpose is to control the people, we may have questions."
United Nations officials say they are also trying to insist on refugees moving voluntarily to the new centers. "The idea is that there will be no forced relocation," said Michael Elmquist, the head of emergency assistance for the United Nations in Indonesia.
But for those like Mr. Adan and his family there may be little choice. Mr. Adan said he wanted nothing to do with an official resettlement camp – in part, he said, because he knew that a camp would be a long way from his daughter Masaran. "I would like to stay here near my daughter," he said. "This is my soil."
But Masaran's own resources are depleted. She is already looking after her father's other children. Her house was spared by the tsunami, but her rice field is flooded under dirty saltwater that washed in from the ocean. The field was her only source of support. "I don't feel comfortable living off my daughter forever, but I don't want to move," Mr. Adan said.
One of the concerns of the refugee agency is that the large centers could become permanent features in Aceh, leaving families isolated from their home communities and extended family relationships.
To try to limit the number of people in the new refugee centers, the United Nations refugee agency says it will assist victims whose houses can be repaired. "We will start helping people rebuild their damaged houses by providing materials," said Mans Nyberg, a spokesman for the agency.
To complement the government-built camps, the refugee agency said it had started to distribute 10,000 lightweight tents, made for tropical weather, to provide shelter for 100,000 people.
About 200,000 survivors in Aceh are believed to be living with relatives, and while many prefer that arrangement over moving to one of the big centers, they are clearly becoming an increasing financial burden on their host families.
Mr. Adan's wife, Rusmini, said that with a little investment she could make a go of it for her family in Angan, the village bordering Kling Meria where she and her husband have temporarily settled.
She says she will do everything she can to avoid life in a camp. "I want to own a becak and sell vegetables at the market where many of my friends are," she said referring to the small motorized vehicles that villagers use for transportation. "There is hope for this, but I have no money right now."
Officials of the United Nations refugee agency say it is concentrating on housing for now and has not tackled the question of offering small loans to help survivors get back on their feet.
In the meantime, frictions are emerging in the small villages like Angan that were left unscathed but now have become makeshift refugee centers and must cope with housing the homeless.
Many of the displaced survivors sleep in a small open-sided tin-roofed hut usually used as a public meeting place. A makeshift kitchen has opened on the side of the shelter, and vats of steaming rice are readied at lunchtime.
The 370 refugees staying with relatives in Angan are too much of a burden for the families, said the village leader, Surya Darma. Already it is too difficult for to guarantee a steady supply of relief food.
Most of the food aid that has flooded into Aceh has gone to the makeshift refugee camps, bypassing families that had taken in their own kin, said Mr. Darma's wife, Yulisma, who is the self-appointed aid coordinator. "Maybe there is food from the military and the government, but we haven't received it yet," she said.
Where there is limited food, there is also limited patience. Mr. Adan and his family and the others had better move on, Mr. Darma said, adding, "They should move as soon as possible – the faster, the better."
[Ian Fisher contributed reporting from Banda Aceh for this article.]