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hoksukon, a subdistrict in North Aceh, has been flooded for days like many other subdistricts and towns in Aceh. The nearest town, Lhokseumawe, has also endured it on a lesser scale.

Although floods have made the residents suffer significantly, they certainly would get less attention nationally, as the regions are peripheral to major cities or other subdistricts in Java.

The floods struck exactly 10 years after the most devastating tsunami ever recognized in the world hit the west and east coast of Aceh.

As the coast without mangroves could do nothing against the mighty tsunami, the deforested hills and mountains are now no longer able to take up the water from the heavens emptying themselves.

Not to provoke sectarianism or any other divisive notions, this story from northern Aceh might help
remind us of what happened in many parts of our previously very rich country.

It is a story of how a region has given too much so that almost nothing is left for itself. It is a common story in a developing country that has used a militaristic approach to tame its own people.

Since the 1970s, the region had always contributed billions of dollars to the state. Liquid natural gas (LNG) was produced in Lhoksukon and nearby areas, piped to Lhokseumawe and exported. It was the LNG field with the highest production in the world.

Whether the money generated really went to the people or just to a small number of elites or other countries, the country must absolutely thank the subdistricts.

Yet, in Lhoksukon, Lhokseumawe and nearby areas, the billions
of dollars have not meant anything special.

No exceptional irrigation facilities line the vast paddy fields to help the peasants live better or channel water to prevent floods.

Few standard fishing boats are owned by the fishermen along the rich coast. Few standard roads are there in their kampong, which might only cost one-trillionth
of what had been extracted from their ground.

So, their paddy fields dry up in peak dry seasons and get drowned when the rain is irresistible.

The fishermen are stuck in the hundreds of coffee shops on stormy days or just mend their empty
boats and torn nets. They are in debt when there is nothing more to sell and are paid unfairly when they yield abundantly.

Amidst the murky weather, their prayers are an antidote to their aggrieved hearts '€” choired in the handsome mosques towering to the heavens from where the rain and dry come.

At a coffee shop during a school break-time, a fellow teacher
who is originally from Lhoksukon told us his story on the subject of the flood.

Despite his relatives being in trouble and that he should have returned home as soon as possible, he showed such a firmness that looked strange from our ordinary point
of view.

Raised in the time of the long-lasting conflict in Aceh, which was ended by the demolishing tsunami, he seemed to have become accustomed to more terrifying disasters.

Being threatened with bullets or torture by military men in his childhood and teen years '€” on the way to school in bright mornings or in the darkness of night '€” had given him the ability to remain calm that he perceived two- or three-meter-high water entering his house as less menacing.

And amidst the floods, my other fellow teachers and companions in the coffee shops were also used to not having undue hope that there will be political will in the local governments or the state.

War, tsunami, floods and other disasters have taught them to accept their fates and live in their
own ways.

If you are a newcomer or are obtaining news items from newspapers or television screens, you may be led to a misunderstanding of the Acehnese, their land and history.

Humans are humans. No medium ever represents them as they are. Language symbols used to represent them to a significant extent pollute the reality.

If you are a newcomer offering help or promising something, you might be asked to give more or to prove it. And you afterwards you may perceive and tell others that they are lazy, dependent, demanding or etc. Yet, are they exactly?

You will also absolutely be misunderstanding while thinking of them in binary oppositions: right or wrong, lazy or diligent, liberal or conservative.

Floods, tsunami, civil wars, corruption, sharia and any other things have been the ingredients that shape their past, present and very likely their future.

The Acehnese and their living complexities exist in a uniquely constructed social system so that comparing them to any other references might not help much.

James Scott might have helped us best by describing their situation as he wrote about Southeast Asia'€™s peasants in the 1970s.

They are the people who are accustomed to submerging to their necks so that a small wave may kill them immediately. That way, hope may rise before consciousness takes them back to reality.

As our empathy and hands go to the people living in the floods in the dried-up land, we should also ironically empathize with their political and religious leaders '€” who actually to a significant extent have enjoyed the economic concessions and donations given to Aceh in the post-conflict era, but trade them for nothing except the patriarchal, confining local sharia bills and promises of prosperity for their suffering constituents.