The first Bali Bomb

We stayed in Sanur and woke up, startled by an enormous bang. We thought it was an earthquake and ran – naked – into the garden. Nothing further happened, so we went inside and fell asleep. The next morning the phone didn‛t stop ringing. The people in the Netherlands were informed earlier than us. Everybody was very worried and they informed us about the drama. Later, our Balinese friends woke up and told us the whole story. Oka and Sita were already at the hospital and reported from there : “ Last night, bombs exploded in Kuta. There are hundreds of people dead or wounded. They still are being brought here and it is total chaos. Tourists wandering around looking for their friends. This is the biggest drama, ever, in Bali. The wards and corridors are filled with people moaning and groaning , suffering from severe burns. Sita is at the computer, registering as much as possibleand I am busy on the telephone, because the whole world starts to call I‛ll tell you more, later”.	We walked on the beach, It was Sunday morning and the tourists were sunbathing, still ignorant of what had happened. Walking along the restaurants, we saw the televisions were on,. everywhere and everybody was crying : “Now we will lose our jobs “, they all said. “Now no-one will ever come to Bali again…” On the radio they asked for blood, especially blood-groups AB and B, which are uncommon in Asia. We had a friend, visiting us, who had this blood-group and he, immediately, went to a station to give some. Outside there was a deadly silence and the airspace above Bali was closed down. The ferries to Java and to Lombok lay idle in the harbours. But that night it begun… Large Hercules planes entered Bali with medicines and equipment to help the wounded And with body-bags for the dead. came also rescuers and police officers. The next days the sky buzzed with planes and ,within three days, all fifty-thousand tourists were evacuated. A travel ban was issued by nearly all the countries in the world. When all guests were taken off the island , the beaches and hotels on Bali, were completely empty and every Balinese cried…

Later we heard how the disaster had happened : a suicidal terrorist had walked into Paddy‛s Bar and had blown himself up. People on the other side of the street, ran outside to see what had happened, and – at that moment – a van with a car bomb detonated amidst all those young people, who had left the bar to watch. The whole street was strewn with dead, mutilated bodies and moaning people. The dead were taken away with trucks and so were the wounded : only twelve ambulances were available… They were brought to all the hospitals of Denpasar and there chaos ruled. The mortuary could only hold about ten bodies, because the Balinese always take their dead directly home And the whole world was phoning that night but only three lines were operable… Within an hour, Oka had thirty more lines . He had worked with a Food Import Industry, owned by Westerners, and , from them, he had wrangled cooling containers for the dead who were already identified and also for the unknown dead. And for the body-parts, they didn‛t know what to do with.. Australia offered medical assistance, without distinction.	And the worst victims were flown to Australia, back with the same Hercules planes. And the Balinese grieved for the dead… The night after the evening when the bombs fell, when one knew – in all likelihood -, that Muslim terrorists were to blame, all high priests of Bali were – in great haste – called to Denpasar. The Police asked them to hold temple ceremonies, at the same time and in all banjars, all over Bali, to ask the people urgently to stay calm and to turn to prayers and not to violence. And Bali prayed.. Luckily, nothing more happened in the next days. Bali did not become a second Ambon.. On Monday, my workers, who were building my house, People from Lombok, Java, and Sumbawa, were back, all nice men, all Muslim. A few didn‛t show up. They had gone back home for a week and were not allowed to enter Bali again…

Oka, who all the time, had been at the source of information, told that there had been far more dead, than the two hundred, reported. A big cremation had been held for all the body parts, that could not be identified, a container full… In Kuta, on a Saturday night, one finds – in the busiest part of the town – everywhere the sellers. Kaki lima‛s ( food carts ) and a swarm of hookers, all from Java. Their parents do not know their whereabouts, because you will never tell that you are a prostitute… In all the restaurants, we ate, we were often the only guests. The staff were allowed to keep on working, for half days, half salaries Usually the tips helped out, but those had finished. Poverty loomed, so we gave a bit more… Their was no travel ban issued for New York, neither for Moscow, Madrid or London, but there was one for Bali and for a long time…. why, oh why… In Ubud,on a Sunday morning out of every street of the village, the children streamed to the football field.	Thousands and thousands, holding flowers in their hands, everywhere there were flowers. But the tourists were gone, all of them. Bali was so quiet… Later, a large ceremony was planned on the beach at Kuta and we went to attend. Kuta resembled a fortress, with police and soldiers all over the place, their stenguns ready to use. They were everywhere.., but looked very friendly. We went to the beach, which was completely deserted for as far as we could see. We walked trough the main street, which we only knew as crammed with parked cars and crowds on the pavements on either side. And now we saw trees, that we had never noticed before. It had changed into a deadly quiet street, a 1ime-tree avenue, completely empty, completely silent, deadly silent.. We walked then to the spot, where the calamity had happened and already one kilometer before, people were praying, kneeling on bare knees. Thousands and thousands, holding flowers between their fingers.

On the asphalt and on the pavements, The road was overcrowded, only one meter was kept free to be able to pass. Thus we arrived at the spot Where the bars had been.. It was now an open space, with blackened, collapsed walls. We saw our Ambassador and the Consul and joined them, so we could get closer. Nobody said anything, nobody… And, also on the other side of the spot, people were praying, kneeling on bare knees. Thousands and thousands, holding flowers between their fingers. and swallowing their tears. On the asphalt and on the pavements, One victim on crutches legs bandaged, standing in a porch, gazing ahead, saw other images…	A priest uttered strengthening words, in only one language. More where not needed … Those people were gone. This moving scene touched us to the core. These people were innocent, but now bewildered and sad. And the only thing they could do was to pray… We went back to the beach, where now thousands and thousands of people had gathered, all in traditional dress. T-shirts were distributed with the text : Bali cinta damai, Bali loves peace. Everywhere high stages were erected on which the High Priests sat, praying and chanting and everybody joined in, softly, melancholically, very softly, everybody… Never, never, had Bali been so quiet. Never, never, such an immense prayer had risen in such a silence... Bali cinta damai…
Thanks a lot Anne Termeer for translating this...