Saving Childhood After the Floods in Sumatra

Three weeks after flash floods swept through parts of Sumatra, the tragedy has largely faded from national headlines. In several areas, floodwaters have receded, roads are reopening, and humanitarian aid continues to arrive.

Yet in many villages, recovery remains incomplete. Mud still coats house walls, household items have not been replaced, basic services remain unstable, and perhaps most quietly—but most critically—children’s daily routines have not returned.

Images from flood-affected areas show children standing along roadsides, waiting for assistance. Some wear worn clothing, others clutch food packages, and many gaze silently at passing vehicles with tired eyes, as if waiting for something they cannot fully name.

These scenes serve as a stark reminder: while adults calculate property damage and economic loss, children are reckoning with something else entirely—the loss of safety, the disappearance of play spaces, and prolonged absence from school.

This is where an urgent warning must be raised: children must not become the second victims of disaster.

The first victims are those affected directly by the floods—homes destroyed, belongings lost, access disrupted. The second victims suffer the less visible aftermath: interrupted schooling, unstable nutrition and health, emotional distress, and the absence of safe spaces to process fear and trauma.

Ideally, three weeks after a disaster, children should be returning to school. In reality, many are not. Some schools remain unusable, teachers and families are still displaced, access routes have not fully recovered, and some parents keep children at home due to safety concerns.

As a result, some children have not returned to school at all. Others attend physically but not mentally—they sit restlessly, struggle to focus, and appear calm yet startle easily.

Children experience disasters differently from adults. They often lack the language to articulate fear, anxiety, or grief. Instead, distress emerges through behavior: sudden anger, unexplained crying, fear of rain, sleep difficulties, separation anxiety, or withdrawal.

In close-knit Sumatran communities known for resilience and mutual aid, children are often encouraged to “be strong.” But healthy resilience does not mean silence; it means recovery with proper support.

The challenge is that, during early recovery, families themselves are overwhelmed. Parents have lost income and are busy securing aid, cleaning debris, repairing homes, and managing documentation. In these conditions, children often absorb adult burdens—caring for siblings, assisting with household tasks, standing in aid queues, or suppressing hunger to avoid adding stress.

They may appear fine, but many are quietly carrying emotional weight.

Post-disaster recovery in Sumatra must therefore prioritize children in concrete, not symbolic, ways. Three steps are especially urgent.

First, schools must be restored as safe spaces as quickly as possible. Temporary schools are not merely places for academic instruction; they are psychosocial anchors that provide structure, social connection, and a sense of normalcy.

If school buildings are unusable, learning can take place in community centers, houses of worship, village halls, or properly equipped learning tents. What matters is consistency, safety, and predictable schedules—not luxurious facilities.

Second, teachers must be supported as frontline recovery agents. Early childhood and primary school teachers are often the most stable adults in children’s lives after parents. Yet many teachers are also disaster survivors.

They need simple psychosocial guidance, contextual learning materials, and peer support networks. Recovery activities do not need to be complex: storytelling, drawing experiences, role-playing, singing, breathing exercises, and cooperative games help children process emotions and regain readiness to learn.

Third, children must be protected from layered vulnerabilities—school dropout, malnutrition, and violence. Post-disaster environments increase risk when families are under pressure and private spaces disappear.

Aid distribution must be child-sensitive: referral mechanisms for children showing severe distress, access to basic health and nutrition services, and community oversight to ensure children are not left unattended in public spaces for prolonged periods simply to queue for assistance.

Children should never become the “cue keepers” of crises they did not choose. Sumatra possesses strong social capital—solidarity, kinship, and resilience. These strengths will be far more meaningful if recovery efforts place children at the center.

Three weeks after the floods, it is not enough to ask how many homes have been cleaned. We must also ask: How many children have returned to learning? How many can smile without pretense? How many are still waiting by the roadside when they should be in safe spaces to play and learn?

Disasters may take many things, but childhood must not be among them. Allowing children to become secondary victims means allowing the future to erode quietly. True recovery is achieved when villages rebuild—and at the same time, children regain their most basic rights: safety, education, and hope.

This article was originally published in Kompas, Friday, December 19, 2025.