What used to be houses made of concrete has now turned into piles of rubble. Shacks made of triplex boards and zinc roofs now stand among the rubble, along with a scatter of green tarpaulin tents. At the center of it all, surrounded by all the rubble, shacks and tents, lies a thin slab of concrete that acts as the community square. A few steps away, there is a green mushola (prayer room), and across from it, a modest platform stands covered by a black tarpaulin roof. On the platform rests a table and a flat-screen TV.
This is Kampung Akuarium (Aquarium Village), and nearly two years have passed since the aettlement was torn by the Jakarta government on April 11, 2016.
Located at the edge of the Jakarta Bay in Penjaringan subdistrict, North Jakarta, it is home to 128 families, or 512 people, who choose to stay in the area after the demolition.
Prior to that, 386 families, or about 1,500 people, lived in Kampung Akuarium, most of whom have moved to city-owned low cost apartments.
Normally, its inhabitants enjoy the typical coastal weather, with the kampung basking in the sun during the day, and cooling off in the ocean breeze at night. Whenever the wind blows, the distinct smell of sea salt hits the senses. Despite living at the coastline, residents there can no longer see the ocean as a 5-meter-high wall now surrounds the kampung, separating the coast from the sea.
Dharma Diani, a resident of the original Kampung Akuarium, chose to remain in the area. Bu Yani, as Diani is known among locals, remained in her storehouse during the demolition.
"That night (before the eviction), I caressed the walls of my house, thinking that all of this will be gone the following day," she recalled.
Bu Yani has not only chosen to remain in the now demolished area, but she has also turned into an outspoken voice for Kampung Akuarium, approaching NGOs and government agencies as an advocate for her home.
Kampung Akuarium is among the communities in Jakarta that have fallen victim to non-participatory city planning. The eviction process lacked transparency, and after the residents were forced to leave, the city administration only offered them accomodation in low-cost apartments, without financial compensation.
"I was curious to know how cruel the (city) administration is, and they really are," said Kampung Akuarium resident Tedi Kusnadi, 57.
He lost everything in the eviction: house and the items inside it, including his woodcraft equipment.
Pak Tedi is known as a jack-of-all trades in Kampung Akuarium. He initially worked as a fisherman and craftsman. Later on, he managed to build his own house and then rented out some of the rooms. He was not particularly wealthy before the eviction, but since his house was torn down, his finances have dwindled.
Still, life goes in Kampung Akuarium. Children play in the afternoon sun while neighbors chat in the open space or in front of their makeshift houses. A warung (small shop) serving drinks and snacks is alive with chatter.
Like clockwork, the muezzin performs the call to prayers five times a day and residents flock to worship in the mushola.
One night, at the end for our Live-In program, smoke emanated a grill. Residents chatted while eating grilled fish with spicy soy sause. It is like any other kampung, except the fact that residents are forced to live on top of the ruins of their own homes.
Andi Muhammad Ibnu Aqil
The Jakarta Post/Jakarta
This is Kampung Akuarium (Aquarium Village), and nearly two years have passed since the aettlement was torn by the Jakarta government on April 11, 2016.
Located at the edge of the Jakarta Bay in Penjaringan subdistrict, North Jakarta, it is home to 128 families, or 512 people, who choose to stay in the area after the demolition.
Prior to that, 386 families, or about 1,500 people, lived in Kampung Akuarium, most of whom have moved to city-owned low cost apartments.
Normally, its inhabitants enjoy the typical coastal weather, with the kampung basking in the sun during the day, and cooling off in the ocean breeze at night. Whenever the wind blows, the distinct smell of sea salt hits the senses. Despite living at the coastline, residents there can no longer see the ocean as a 5-meter-high wall now surrounds the kampung, separating the coast from the sea.
Dharma Diani, a resident of the original Kampung Akuarium, chose to remain in the area. Bu Yani, as Diani is known among locals, remained in her storehouse during the demolition.
"That night (before the eviction), I caressed the walls of my house, thinking that all of this will be gone the following day," she recalled.
Bu Yani has not only chosen to remain in the now demolished area, but she has also turned into an outspoken voice for Kampung Akuarium, approaching NGOs and government agencies as an advocate for her home.
Kampung Akuarium is among the communities in Jakarta that have fallen victim to non-participatory city planning. The eviction process lacked transparency, and after the residents were forced to leave, the city administration only offered them accomodation in low-cost apartments, without financial compensation.
"I was curious to know how cruel the (city) administration is, and they really are," said Kampung Akuarium resident Tedi Kusnadi, 57.
He lost everything in the eviction: house and the items inside it, including his woodcraft equipment.
Pak Tedi is known as a jack-of-all trades in Kampung Akuarium. He initially worked as a fisherman and craftsman. Later on, he managed to build his own house and then rented out some of the rooms. He was not particularly wealthy before the eviction, but since his house was torn down, his finances have dwindled.
Still, life goes in Kampung Akuarium. Children play in the afternoon sun while neighbors chat in the open space or in front of their makeshift houses. A warung (small shop) serving drinks and snacks is alive with chatter.
Like clockwork, the muezzin performs the call to prayers five times a day and residents flock to worship in the mushola.
One night, at the end for our Live-In program, smoke emanated a grill. Residents chatted while eating grilled fish with spicy soy sause. It is like any other kampung, except the fact that residents are forced to live on top of the ruins of their own homes.
Andi Muhammad Ibnu Aqil
The Jakarta Post/Jakarta
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