Volcano Survival Stories from a Ghost Town

I have been haunted by this 'ghost town' ever since our visit (figuratively speaking, of course). The short story: citizens abandoned their family homes to survive deadly eruptions from a reactivated volcano. Now it's an eerie ash-covered memorial of their past.

Click here to see amazing eruption images (opens a Google Image search in a new window).

Mt. Sinabung lay dormant for about 400 years until 2010 when it reengaged with reckless abandon. Within those centuries of peaceful existence, people settled near its base and farmed its nourishing volcanic soil. Now it erupts 2-5 times a day, with a couple strong eruptions every year. All people living within in the government imposed "red zone" (4 km radius from the volcano) were forced to relocate.

I hoped to get a good vantage point from the top of a neighboring (but less active) volcano, Mt. Sibayak. Mt. Sinabung was covered with clouds almost the entire day, so this is the only clear shot I got of a small eruption (even though there are 2-5 eruptions a day).

The Pantomimes of a Local Survivor

Driving in, I was surprised to see some of the locals still there. We met about a dozen that were tending to fields and animals. We learned that the villagers are allowed to return in the day, but are forbidden to sleep overnight. One lady (below) engaged with us. I initially interpreted her approach as a signal that she didn't want us snooping around her tragedy. It turns out, it was quite the opposite; she wanted to share her story with us. And we REALLY wanted to hear it.

Unfortunately, we don't know Indonesian. She spoke as if we'd miraculously learn it before the end of her story, but that didn't happen. Her charades conveyed a few basic facts: she ran from falling ash and made it out alive. But since I had already assumed these details, this conversation left me seriously wanting. She had survived something incredible; her story was right there for me to take, yet I couldn't grasp it! I desperately wanted to offer some sense of heartfelt connection, expressing sincere interest her experience, and I lacked the language to convey it with words. This seriously frustrated me.

This man can't live here anymore, but he's allowed to return in the day to work his fields. Some of these people who return daily to farm their lands now live over an hour away since being displaced. So, not only did they lose their homes and community, but will also lose 2+ hours out of every day, indefinitely.

A Narrow Escape
Earlier in the day, while watching a small eruption through binoculars atop a neighboring volcano (less active), we asked our guide about Mt. Sinabung's dangers on a day-to-day basis. He told us that a few years back he and his best friend from childhood were hiking the active volcano. When an eruption came, he miraculously survived by finding shelter "under a big rock" just as hot debris pounded the area. Sadly, though, the volcano took his friend, which understandably has been difficult for him to process. He had survived, but his best friend didn't. He carefully guarded his emotion, subtly implying just how deeply the experience still affected him.

Our guide considers the cloudy mountain's destructive power while standing on a 3-foot tall mound of ash. The village used to extend down the ridge to this area. Now there are no traces of civilization here.

Victory
In many cases, these abandoned homes and land had been in the family for generations. One kind man invited us into his family home just as he was leaving at dusk. He thankfully spoke a little English.  As we walked in, he lit a small candle and showed us around, pointing out the religious pictures on the wall. The inside was previously covered in a carpet of ash (still noticeable around the edges), but he has cleaned it up nicely. I thought he takes very good care of the house considering that no one can ever live in it again. He proudly showed us around.

This man's grandfather helped establish the village many years ago, which only increased the emotional difficulty to leave. This is his home; I believe it's where he grew up. He had survived, but still longed to be here even though the government forbids it. In much of the world, there is a strong connection between the land and identity (something some of my fellow Americans don't quite grasp; we have a relatively short history, high mobility, and plenty of land). Take land away and these people lose a piece of themselves. This theme is at the core of many domestic and international disputes.

When I asked this man's name, he said: "Victory." How powerful! True, though being a survivor is not the same as being a victor (I mean, how does a farmer defeat a volcano?). His real victory comes from defeating his internal struggles resulting from his displacement and loss. I have so much respect for him and his family and am sincerely thankful he was willing to share a glimpse of his family's survival story. What a meaningful education that sank deep into our hearts.

Conclusion
This is the real world, my friends. There are amazing people hidden all around us who have experienced something incredibly difficult, and survived. This sometimes painful world mass-produces "survivors" through our human experiences with natural disasters, sickness, addiction, accidents, injustice, mental illness, among many others. Whether the stimulus comes from a volcano or just making it through another day in middle school, to be human is to be a survivor. The basic instinct to survive is in our genetic makeup. Furthermore, surviving creates depth in our character as we become victors over the pains of our human experience.

While most of us don't have a deadly volcano in our backyard, we have a lot in common with these inspiring people. I think this is why I feel such a strong attachment with this remote ghost town--they inspired me. In the moment, our hardships may seem unbearable. However, life goes on and we find a way to make it through, though changed.

Bonus Pics

Take note of the caked-on layer of ash, burn designs in the wood siding (from the hot ash), knocked out piece of roof, and some remains of a melted plastic banner on the side of the house.

There was a big difference in the condition of tile homes and wooden homes. Tile can be wiped down clean with minimal visible damage to the outside, often revealing some bright colors. The wooden ones--even if brushed off--looked like they had been uninhabited since the 1800s (not unlike gold rush 'ghost towns' I have visited in the western US).

The state of the homes and belongings was so deteriorated that it was hard to believe this was a prosperous, flourishing town only a few short years ago.

Charlie's favorite part of the abandoned town was treasure hunting (if you've read the Our Family section of the blog, you know he aspires to grow up to be Wall-E: a collector of trash treasures). Our guide kept trying to sell me on the idea of giving Charlie this rusty old oil lamp as a souvenir... I insisted that a picture would suffice.

The big sheets of material in the left picture are pieces of the ceiling that had caved-in.

Here's some other left behind remnants of the eruptions. Notice the deformed/melted plastic, layer of ash on almost all surfaces inside and out, clothes still out to dry (just as they were left), and other belongings that seem untouched. 

This must have been a magnificent banyan tree. It burned down in the big eruption in May 2016. I would have loved to see it while alive, but I was 1-year too late.

Apparently this is a nice NEW (expensive) moto. The assumption is that the owner used government relief funds intended for other use (housing, food, etc.). Without remembering the details of the story, I could tell there is some animosity toward this individual's behavior, whether or not the funding assumption was true or only perceived.

I dare say this scenario could be played out in almost any country where there's a perception of unequal distribution of government resources (OK, all countries?).

The edge of civilization. I was told that houses used to line small stream below, but now there is nothing left. You can only see the very bottom of the volcano--the rest is hidden by clouds.

Here's a large mound of compressed and hardened ash. It's amazing to think of the force needed to blow this much material out of that mountain... Ash flew 12,000 ft in the sky.