TAPANULI TENGAH — The rain may have stopped. The river current may have calmed. But for residents of Tukka Subdistrict, the wounds left by the flash floods are far from healed. Mud still coats the walls of their homes. Lost belongings will never return. And most painfully, for days, no assistance managed to reach their isolated villages.
Only on Thursday (4 December 2025) did the DT Peduli team and volunteers from Sisisa finally arrive, carrying a glimmer of hope. They were met by exhausted yet resilient faces at Masjid Jami, Bona Lumban, where humanitarian aid was centered. Clothing, instant noodles, snacks, hygiene supplies, 1.7 tons of rice, cooking oil, sugar, biscuits, baby diapers, sanitary pads, and trauma-healing services were delivered using six pickup trucks and one private car for 650 affected households.
“We’ve arrived in Tukka Subdistrict. This is an isolated area, and this is the first aid to reach the community. Alhamdulillah, after overcoming many obstacles, we made it here. Insha Allah, we will set up a communal kitchen together with DT Peduli North Sumatra and Sisisa. We still really hope for continued support from the public to help our brothers and sisters affected by floods and landslides,” said Sani, a DT Peduli volunteer at the location.
When Medicine Becomes a Luxury
Amid the distribution, volunteers were confronted with a harsh reality: many residents had begun falling ill. Standing water mixed with mud and decaying debris had created a foul environment. Children developed fevers, elders coughed endlessly, and health complaints grew by the day — a looming threat overshadowing recovery efforts.
It was at this moment that one of the most heartbreaking scenes unfolded. Sani recalled it with a trembling voice. A mother broke down in tears the moment she saw the relief team.
“We came from far away. We brought so many supplies. But when the mother asked for just one thing… we couldn’t give it,” he said softly.
The woman was not asking for food, clothing, or household items. She only wanted fever medicine for her infant, who lay weak at home. Her husband, paralyzed, could not move — let alone carry their child to a clinic.
“She begged for medicine for her baby. Her husband is paralyzed, and her child is sick. But we didn’t bring any medicine — only food supplies. She cried, saying, ‘Do you have fever medicine for my child, Dek?’ And it broke me to answer, ‘We don’t have any, Ma’am…’” Sani recalled, his voice cracking.
Volunteers brought dozens of aid items, yet none of them mattered when what was needed most was the one thing they did not have. Sani promised her that medical supplies would be included in the next delivery.
“Insha Allah, for the next distribution, we will bring medicines. We will inform the community and donors that the residents urgently need medical supplies,” he said, holding back tears. It was more than a promise — it was a commitment etched deeply in the hearts of the volunteers.
Smiles of Children Amid the Mud
Even in moments of despair, Allah grants small pockets of joy. The arrival of volunteers rekindled laughter among the children. They ran, giggled, and played in puddles, refusing to let disaster steal their sense of childhood wonder.
Mothers, their eyes filled with worry, tried to smile as they shared stories with female volunteers — of school uniforms swept away, kitchens destroyed, and the fear that rises whenever clouds gather.
The fathers, who would normally be working in the fields, helped unload the aid packages. Their participation was small but meaningful, preserving dignity and their role as providers in the family.
But the hardest moment came when the volunteers had to leave before sunset, moving on to other villages still waiting for help. Tears flowed. Hugs lingered. Hands waved hesitantly as if unwilling to let go.
Some residents tried to delay the volunteers’ departure — perhaps to make sure they would return, or simply to hold onto a moment of safety before the darkness of night arrived.
The volunteers walked away with heavy steps, wading through flooded paths, carrying stories and sorrow that must now be shared with the wider world. That day, laughter, tears, and prayer blended together in one place — a mosque transformed into a sanctuary of healing.
The floods had taken so much. But not everything. Care remained. Compassion remained. Humanity remained. In Tukka, amid the mud and debris, the spirit to rise again — together — continues to burn.
Editor: Agus ID