JuanitaB

I followed the reporters from a local magazine I was interning with as we climbed a makeshift staircase. I felt the rocks slip away as I stepped on them and reached forward as if reaching for an imaginary handrail. In front of me, I watched as an old women and her family helped her make her way up. I couldn’t see what lied on the other side of the hill but understood that that this humble road stop held a deeper meaning.
As I reached the top of the hill, which I realized was a dam, I stopped in my tracks. It was windy and raining but the weather was nothing compared to what was in front of me. Before me was the largest expanse I had ever seen. I had stood before oceans and jungles but this was the most striking sight I had ever taken in. It was similar to an ocean only it was an ocean of mud. Thick swirling pools bubbled up with pops of Methane gas. In the distance I could see small eruptions of mud shoot violently with steam before dissipating into the grey clouds above.
I was surprised at first when we stopped at what appeared to be a ghost town. A reporter later explained to me that that was essential what happened back in 2006 when a roague drilling accident led created the mud volcano which led to the displacement of hundreds of families in the small town. Now, Sidoarjo she explained was more or less a living graveyard where people came to pay their respects.
The mudflow was beautiful because it was so vast and powerful but it was also very sad because I know how much it has destroyed and how dangerous it still is. When we left, the train was coming by. It’s still hazardous because there is still methane gas seeping out that can cause an explosion with the ignition of something as small as a cigarette butt. This could only remind me of the paradox of Indonesia itself where the beauty and power of a country still hangs in such a delicate balance.