1998, I was 10. And unfortunately, I was in Indonesia living in fear with my family trying to have as little encounter as possible with the majority locals.
Everyday, there are news about riots, students protests, students killed, and more riots erupting in major cities in Indonesia. We lives in a small town called Tanjungbalai and we knew that it’s just the matter of time before the riot will start in our town.
Though there is no riot yet, it was a scary situation. Children (especially Chinese) are occasionally skipping school because of the fear of the riot that can happen any time. There are stones thrown into our windows every now and then. We try to leave the house as little as possible. We were scared.
One day, when the situation has gotten to its worst, we fled to Malaysia. Few days after, the riot started in my town. My father and one of my sister are still there and they witnessed the whole horrible scenes. Breaking houses, burning, stealing. All targeting the Chinese. Fortunately we had a nice neighbor who happen to be non-Chinese and help to talk to the rioters to not enter or damage my house. My father and sister were saved.
Though I wasn’t there to witness the riot, I was in fear for months. Even after the whole thing had calm down, we were still scared to go out at night. There are still kids throwing stones at our windows sometimes. And I had nightmares.
I dream of being chased in a jungle. I felt powerless, I can’t move. It’s the most horrifying thing I’ve ever had. Even though it’s just a dream, it felt so real. I’ve never felt that way in my real life, but it happen in the dream as if it’s real. I felt down and my legs felt like jelly. I wanted to run but my leg just won’t straighten up. I can’t run, I can’t move. But I’m scared, but I have to run. But I woke up.
In response to today’s daily prompt