Everywhere I looked, there were mosques, homes, businesses, hospitals, and entire towns—all reduced to rubble from the earthquake that violently shook northern Lombok on August 5th 2018. According to the Lombok government, the quake resulted in 620 deaths, with nearly 80% of structures toppled. Two weeks after the disaster, I find myself among ruins, heading north to reach the epicenter.

The entire region remains in a vulnerable state. Following the government's decision not to request international aid, the island's recovery has stalled. Many residents, without a roof over their heads, have clustered in makeshift refugee tent camps. Remarkably, life persists here, marked by positivity and smiles, especially among the children. The government has set up public tented areas functioning as hospitals, schools, and dining halls.

 

Still, an air of uncertainty lingers. Can these temporary shelters withstand the imminent rainy season in just two months? As residents continue to clear debris, salvage belongings, care for the affected, and build temporary homes, they live in fear of aftershocks that continue to jolt the island.

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Traveling through the hardest-hit areas, I meet three distinct families. They share their earthquake experiences, their current challenges, and their thoughts on forging ahead after such a devastating event. Just a few kilometers from Senggigi—one of the primary tourist towns in Northern Lombok—I encounter Adi Usuadi among the remains of his village. With unexpected hospitality, he introduces me to his family, and I begin to grasp the drastic changes they've undergone. The remnants of their former home still stand, awaiting demolition. Their new dwelling comprises four large tents fashioned from branches and cloth, serving as a kitchen, two bedrooms, and a more spacious living area. "It's about losing almost everything and persevering by reconstructing from what's left," states Adi. His most pressing concern, like many others, is the torrential rains typical from November to February in Indonesia. The makeshift shelters, barely above ground and lacking sturdy construction, are at risk. Many families dread the potential loss of their newly reconstructed lives. "The issue is..." a neighbor of Adi's comments, "for those of us who rely on tourism, how can we earn money to rebuild our homes? You're the first foreign tourist I've seen in days..."

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In other villages, homes may not be entirely destroyed, but the damages render them perilously habitable. Those who couldn't establish their shelters have relocated to refugee camps, where most residents now cluster. These tented communities line the roads leading north.

Venturing into one of these camps, mischievous, smiling children playing in the streets greet me. We're in one of the northern refugee sites, among the most affected areas of the island. Most of all houses here have been obliterated, with residents now settled in tented neighborhoods. With the collapse of many hospitals and schools, services continue under orange and red tents adjacent to these tent communities. In these makeshift hospitals, one can find the sick, mothers with babies, and those needing medical attention from earthquake related injuries, while in the schools, children play, laugh, and paint, as if untouched by the calamity, and following the true core of kids innocence and adaptation skills. 

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1 Dream 1 World's mission was to highlight the need for humanitarian and financial support to rehabilitate the community infrastructure following the devastating earthquake. With two weeks of diligent advocacy, we successfully garnered the commitment of two major international organizations and their associate partners. Their contributions encompassed essential resources including food transportation, tents, and medical supplies.

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Enclosed are the impactful photographs that played a pivotal role in raising global awareness of the devastation left in the wake of Lombok's 2018 earthquake.